Heartland

by Tricia Andersen

  Wasn’t it?

  A voice echoed in his ears. It wasn’t a voice from his childhood or a voice from this hospital. But it was a voice he cared about. A voice he would fight for. It was the voice of a brother.

  “You need to fight, Sloan. You can’t give up now. Fight this, brother. She needs you. Now more than ever, she needs you. Fight for Abbey.”

  »»•««

  Abbey sat in the hospital recliner, her legs tucked underneath her. Her arm, embedded with an IV, stretched across the hospital bed. Her fingers gently caressed those of an unconscious Sloan. She propped her head up on her hand as she watched him.

  Guilt turned her stomach inside out. Her newborn daughter was in the neo-natal intensive care unit. She should be sitting by the baby’s bassinet. Instead, her mom and Gordon were keeping vigil beside the infant. Abbey had grabbed her IV stand and found her way to intensive care. She couldn’t pull herself away from Sloan’s bedside. The surgeon said it would be touch and go. With having to be resuscitated three times and the loss of oxygen…

  She squeezed his hand tightly as she wiped away tears. She wasn’t ready to tell him goodbye.

  She studied him. Despite the beeping machines around him, the breathing tube that made her shudder, and the tubes and wires running in and out of him, he was still a massive amount of man. The skin of his chiseled, angular face was pale. His wavy, ebony hair was a sharp contrast to his flesh and the pillow.

  Abbey glanced up as a nurse stepped in with a couple of warm blankets. She offered one of them to Abbey with a gentle smile and then tucked the other around Sloan. The nurses of the ICU had been wonderful to Abbey.

  Her obstetrician was furious with her for not staying in her own bed in the maternity ward. He was so disgusted that he refused to discharge her. Abbey knew that if she just followed the doctor’s orders, she could get rid of the IV.

  She shrugged. My husband is here. My daughter is here. What’s the point of going home?

  Abbey straightened in her recliner, concern flooding her face. She had felt something brush the hand wrapped tightly around Sloan’s fingers. She examined the bed around them. It was one of the few places without tubes and wires.

  Not finding anything, she tiredly stretched her cramped fingers against his. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched Sloan’s brush hers. He recaptured her hand in his, wrapping his fingers tightly around hers. She twisted her face to the head of the mattress. His ice blue eyes gazed at her through hazy slits.

  She scrambled to find the call button embedded to the bed rail closest to her chair. A voice crackled across the speaker.

  “My husband is awake! Come quick!” Abbey cried.

  She hovered over him, gazing at his weak eyes watching her. She pressed her lips against his forehead. “Sloan, I thought I lost you. I love you so much.”

  She looked down as she felt his fingers brush against her considerably flatter stomach. A look of concern resonated in his face.

  “She’s fine, Sloan,” Abbey assured. “She’s in the neonatal intensive care unit. Mom and Gordon are with her. I named her Amelia after your mother.”

  His eyes softened. He wrapped his hand around hers for several long moments. Abbey could see the surge of emotion in his exhausted features. He gazed at her as he squeezed her hand tightly. I didn’t realize how much naming the baby after his mom would mean to him. Then, he let go of her hand, brushed his fingers against her abdomen again, and then weakly pushed her away.

  “You want me to leave?” she asked.

  Sloan reached to touch her belly again and then nudged her away. She looked at him confused. Suddenly, her face lit up with acknowledgement when he did it a third time.

  “You want me to go be with Amelia,” she breathed. He nodded slowly. She smiled as she continued, “I won’t leave for long. And if it’s possible, I won’t come back alone,” she warned playfully. “If they will let me, I’ll be back to introduce you to your daughter.”

  Despite the breathing tube, a smile crept across Sloan’s face. Abbey bent over his bed and pressed a warm, sweet kiss against his cheek. She pressed her forehead against his as she hugged him carefully.

  “Thank you for coming back to me,” she whispered.

  She grasped the pole that held her IV tube and waved goodbye as doctors and nurses rushed into the room to examine him. She watched them protectively from the doorway for several minutes before she stepped into the hallway and made her way back to the maternity ward.

  Chapter Eight

  Abbey finally played nice with her obstetrician and stayed in her hospital bed as she was told. It’s a good thing too, she contemplated. Her blood levels were nowhere near where they needed to be. Instead of going home later that day, it would be at least twenty-four hours. If not longer.

  She was very obedient and followed the doctor’s orders—to a point. There were the exceptions when the floor nurses snuck her into the neonatal intensive care unit to be with Amelia. The pediatrician was working miracles with the tiny baby girl.

  It killed Abbey, though, that she couldn’t hold her daughter. She could only gently touch the baby’s fragile skin. She did snap a cell phone picture of the infant and texted it to Sloan. If it tore her apart not to hold her daughter, it had to be destroying him not to even get to see her.

  She was amazed at the thick black hair Amelia was born with. And once, while Abbey was sitting next to the incubator, the baby had opened her eyes. They were ice blue. Amelia had inherited her father’s most striking, beautiful features. She would grow up to look like her Aunt Maggie.

  Abbey hated not to be near Sloan, not to be sitting beside his bed as he recovered. Her mind raced, wondering what his condition was. Is he still improving? Soon her fingers raced over the face of her phone, begging Gordon or Mary or Maggie or Bartholomew to check on Sloan and let her know how he was doing.

  It wasn’t long before her mother appeared at the door. Mary had just come from the intensive care unit. Sloan was fine, his breathing tube had been removed, and he agreed that Abbey stay put in her bed. As far as he was concerned, her leaving that bed was non-negotiable. She was relieved to hear that he was doing better. It didn’t stop her from missing him terribly.

  As the day wore on, she dozed off in a restless sleep. There is way too much on my mind. She woke up, startled. Her eyes widened as she found him standing next to her bed.

  Big, bad Robert.

  I wondered how long it would take for him to show up. She glared at him defensively.

  “What do you want?” she demanded.

  Robert chuckled. “I wanted to see if you were all right. Is that so wrong?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “If you were fine, you wouldn’t be sitting in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV, now would you, Abbey?”

  She huffed aggravated. “Just get it over with, will you?’

  “Get what over with?”

  “Blaming me.”

  “For what?”

  “For your best friend lying in the ICU.”

  “Did you pull the trigger?”

  “No.”

  “Well, other than dating a psycho at some point, I don’t see where you’re to blame for anything.”

  “I dated the psycho.”

  “Did you know he was a psycho?”

  “No.”

  “Then I rest my case.”

  Abbey glared at him silently for a few moments more before her gaze softened. “How long are you here?”

  “A couple more hours. I’m flying to Miami to cover some issues for Sloan.”

  “Oh.” She knotted her fingers together. “And he’s still all right?”

  Robert sat on the edge of her bed and smiled at her. “He’s Sloan O’Riley. He’s forgotten how he is. He’s worried about you and Amelia. By the way, Mary took me to see her.”

  “She looks like her daddy, doesn’t she?”

  Robert laughed. “The hair and eyes, yes. But I think even her daddy will agree—she looks mor
e like her mommy.”

  Abbey felt her cheeks flush. Robert patted her arm and then stood. He pressed a farewell kiss to her cheek before he said goodbye and strode from the room.

  Abbey settled into her hospital bed. Talking to Robert made her realize how ridiculous she had been. Her family needed her healthy so she could take care of them. She flipped on the television and relaxed, allowing the medication in her bloodstream to work its magic.

  Twenty-four hours of taking care of herself made all the difference. Abbey’s early morning blood draws came out perfect. The obstetrician had no choice but to release her from the hospital. Bartholomew drove the happy, excited, overly-chatty Abbey home to Mount Vernon to grab a quick shower and pack some clothes. Then he returned her to the hospital.

  She discreetly dodged doctors, nurses, patients, and visitors as she raced to the intensive care unit. She stopped short at the nurses surrounding Sloan as they disconnected his tubes and wires.

  “What’s going on?” Abbey demanded in a panic.

  Sloan’s head popped up from the bed. “I’m being moved out of the ICU, Abigail.”

  Exhaling a sigh of relief, she crossed the room to his bedside. She pressed her lips to his. Her kiss lingered longer than it should have. She was never so happy to kiss Sloan. I thought I would never get to kiss him again.

  She gazed at his face as she pulled away. The display of affection didn’t seem to bother him as he flashed her his sly, cocky grin. She gathered a few of his personal belongings and stuffed them in her overnight bag. Abruptly, she stood straight as a thought crossed her mind.

  “Sloan is being moved to a normal hospital room?” Abbey questioned the nurse.

  “Yes,” the woman answered as she re-hooked the IV bag to the wheelchair.

  “Does that mean he can leave his room and visit other parts of the hospital?”

  “With an escort, yes.”

  Sloan’s brow furrowed. “What are you getting at, Abbey?”

  “Is there any way we could stop somewhere on the way to his new room?” She watched his eyes glow with excitement.

  “Where do you want to stop?” the nurse inquired.

  “The NICU.”

  The woman smiled and nodded. She motioned an orderly over. Together, they supported Sloan as he stepped out of the bed and settled into the wheelchair. Abbey gathered the rest of his things. She followed the nurse as the woman pushed her husband out of the room.

  Abbey walked beside the chair as her heart fluttered in excitement. Sloan couldn’t wait for their baby to be born when she was pregnant. She couldn’t wait now for him to meet their new daughter. She looked down as she felt strong fingers wrap snugly around hers. He gazed up at her. The anxiousness she felt, he felt also. She smiled at him warmly. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against it. He squeezed it tight, unwilling to let go.

  They stopped at the nurses’ station of the NICU. The department nurse, a silver-haired, heavyset woman with rosy cheeks, rose from her seat.

  “Mrs. O’Riley. I‘m so glad you’re here. We’re moving your baby from the incubator today. We have a long way to go, but you can at least hold…”

  The head nurse’s voice trailed off as her eyes fell on Sloan. Each of the other nurses had already found him, their whispers and lovesick sighs filling the room. Abbey giggled to herself. As usual, Sloan’s sweet sexiness charmed them all.

  “I see you brought a friend,” the woman commented.

  “I’m Sloan O’Riley,” he replied. “I’m…”

  “We know who you are. Follow me so we can get Mrs. O’Riley in scrubs and ready to see your daughter.”

  They thanked the nurse who had escorted them from intensive care to the NICU. Abbey pushed the wheelchair into the nursery. After they washed and Abbey changed into scrubs, she wheeled Sloan through the maze of bassinets until they reached Amelia’s.

  Sloan stared, fascinated, through the clear Plexiglas at the tiny infant. “Abigail, she’s beautiful,” he breathed. “Look at all that hair. And her beautiful eyes.”

  She leaned over the back of the chair, wrapping her arms around Sloan’s shoulders. “I know. She looks like her daddy.”

  “No. She’s a beautiful lass like her mama.”

  Abbey smiled as she kissed his cheek. They both looked up as the head nurse joined them. “Who wants to hold her first?” she offered.

  Abbey met Sloan’s surprised gaze. She nodded lovingly toward him. “You.”

  “Have you held her?” he asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Abigail…”

  “I carried her for a little over seven months. You can hold her first.”

  He exhaled nervously as he stared at his tiny daughter. “All right.”

  The nurse laughed. “With the baby being a preemie, you need to hold her kangaroo care.”

  “Kangaroo care?” he questioned.

  “Hold her against your bare chest. Your bare skin against hers will comfort her.”

  Abbey stepped back quickly as Sloan struggled with the hospital gown. She helped him to shrug the garment to his waist. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen him get undressed so quickly. Abbey smiled at the collective groans that came from the nurses at the sight of her husband without his shirt on.

  She watched as the nurse helped him pick up Amelia with trembling hands. He nestled her carefully against his bare chest. The nurse draped a warm, soft, thin pink blanket over them both. He studied Amelia as she stretched her tiny arms with all her might. The baby blinked her own blue eyes open. Abbey could see his face soften, his heart clearly melting as their daughter cuddled against him the best she could.

  Sloan glanced down as Abbey kneeled next to his chair. A thin trail of tears wove their way across her cheeks.

  “Abigail, what’s wrong?” he asked concerned.

  “You holding her,” she whimpered. “Everything I love is right here with me. Just a couple of days ago, I thought I was going to lose you both.”

  He secured a strong hand around Amelia. With his other, he reached down, wiping away his wife’s tears. She turned her face into his hand, pressing one kiss after another into his palm. She heard him heave a heavy sigh. She looked up to see his eyes glistening with his own tears. The three of them were together. They had made it through. Life couldn’t be more perfect.

  »»•««

  Maggie raced down the dim hallway to Bartholomew’s apartment. She stifled a yawn. She had just finished her overnight shift in the maternity ward, and there hadn’t been a dull moment. After the melee in the emergency room, Maggie had asked for an immediate transfer. She couldn’t stand one more moment being in the same department as Jackson and his stooges. What the bastard did to me and my entire family was unforgivable.

  Maternity was a refreshing change of pace. Instead of being faced with illness, injury, and near death every day, it was wonderful to greet new life each shift. To see the mothers holding their new babies warmed Maggie’s heart. And at least for now, she had an added treat.

  When there was a slow moment, she was able to spend time with her new niece. There was even a time or two when Sloan had snuck in for a visit in the middle of the night. Having her brother with her, just the two of them as they visited Amelia, was incredible. There hadn’t been much time alone with him.

  In the neonatal nursery, she got to spend time with the real Sloan O’Riley—not the world-renowned artist and billionaire, but the loving husband and father. In that nursery, he was the big brother she had missed for so many years, the big brother she had almost lost. She loved every second she spent with him and Amelia.

  Maggie knocked quickly on Bartholomew’s door. She was hungry. She was tired. She was hoping to lure the sweet, sexy hunk to breakfast. And she was really hoping he would let her sleep in his bed after they ate. The thought of being snuggled in his sheets, immersed in his scent, made her heart flutter wildly. And if he wanted to join me, I certainly wouldn’t turn him down.

  “Come in,”
she heard him call from inside.

  She opened the door and excitedly stepped across the threshold. Her excitement downshifted to confusion when she saw random piles of cardboard boxes lying lay scattered all over the apartment.

  “What is this?” she demanded, as she gestured to the clutter.

  Bartholomew glanced around at the piles and then put some books in the box on the kitchen table. “I’m officially unemployed. The ambulance service had no problem accepting my resignation.”

  “So you’re moving?”

  “Yes. I terminated my lease this morning.”

  “You’re moving to Mount Vernon?”

  Bartholomew shook his head. “Montana.”

  “Montana!” she screeched.

  “Maggie, I have no job. Not that I did very well at the ones I had. I sucked at being a paramedic. And a bodyguard? The man I was hired to protect is in the hospital recovering from a near-fatal gunshot wound.”

  “Thank you for reminding me.”

  “I’m best off going home. What’s here for me to stay for?” He turned away from her to pick up another stack of books.

  Tears stung her eyes. “Me.”

  He stopped for a moment and then turned back. She stood straight as frustration filled her, balling her little fists at her sides. She felt the tears pool in her eyes and slide down her cheeks. He dropped the stack of books, and in one stride, crossed the room to her. He cupped her face in his hands and pressed a long, soft kiss against her lips.

  “Maggie, there’s nothing left. It would take so much to start over,” he breathed.

  “Then we’ll do it together.”

  “How? You have school to pay for and rent and bills. How are you going to add me to the list?”

  “I will, all right? Just don’t leave me.”

  “Maggie…”

  “Please, Bartholomew. Please don’t leave me.”

  He sighed. “All right.”

  “So, you’ll go tell the apartment manager you aren’t terminating your lease?”

  “It’s too late for that.”

  “Then move in with me,” she offered.

  He laughed. “No. I said near-fatal. Your brother is very much alive, and if he knew I was living with you, he would kill me. Literally.”