“I am still here. The only reason I am not rushing up there is because I can’t, I will give you some space but we will be having more of these conversations. I am not giving up on your or us. I need you and so does your son.”
I don’t even say goodbye, but instead I hand the phone over to Patrick. I push through the door of the NICU, now hell bent on getting my son and getting the hell out of here.
Christmas came and went this week. My Dad came up to D.C to spend it with me but left yesterday. I haven’t spoken with Emily much. I did call her to wish her and Shane a Merry Christmas and it was one of the hardest things to do. I missed my son’s first Christmas.
My rehab has been going as expected. I am still in a wheelchair while my residual limb heals. The swelling from the amputation has gone down a bit from the shrinker sock but the pain is still there when I attach the prosthesis.
My physical therapist, Brianna, says that I am making great progress, but I am impatient with the process. I have been able to stand using the parallel bars and learning to weight shift. I have been able to take one hand off the bar so far and stand straight but walking has been very limited.
Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve and all I can think about it what a year it has been. This year has been fucked up in so many ways, losing Jackson in March, and then getting shot. Then I think about what has been perfect about this year, Emily and me and, of course, Shane. Such a mix of emotions.
Laying here in bed, staring at the ceiling I am afraid to close my eyes. Lately, the nightmares of the shooting come flooding back to me. While I still don’t remember everything, the pieces of the puzzle are starting to form. My doctor prescribed an anti-depressant, but I have yet to take it. I am not against taking an anti-depressant, I just have always hated the way medications have made me feel.
Sitting up in bed, I reach for my phone. My Dad has sent me several pictures of Shane. The kid is perfect, unlike his old man. I shake my head. I feel as though I have a personality disorder. One day I feel like I can do anything, and this fucking amputation will not break me, but then the next day I feel as if I just want to give up.
Blowing out a long breath, I focus on a picture of Emily and Shane. They are in the NICU and she is holding him in her lap so that she can look at him and he can look at her. The smile on her face lights up my world, it always has. I know that she will be the best mother. Emily has always been a caring person, gentle, and loving. She has also always been a fierce protector. It is one of the things I love about her most. She is a strong and passionate woman.
I know that I am the luckiest man on the planet but sometimes I feel like I should push her away so she doesn’t have to worry about me. If I were a better man I would probably do that, but I need her too much. I don’t want too, but I do.
I must have drifted off to sleep while looking at the pictures because the next thing I know, I wake to find my phone is dead. I don’t get or make many calls; my Dad and Daniel are the ones who I speak with the most. Emily will text once in a while to check in.
It isn’t light out yet, but I need to charge my phone. My room is dark but there is some light coming in from the hallway. Still half asleep, I move myself to the side of the bed. Suddenly, I feel a pain in my foot, like a cramp. Forgetting about my amputation, because the pain is so real, I try to stand up and immediately fall to the floor.
Son of a bitch. I will not call for help to get back into bed. It may take me the rest of the night to get there, but I will do it myself. I pull up to a leaning position on the side of my good leg. I try to get it underneath me, but the way I have fallen I am in an awkward position.
I turn myself inch by inch on my hip, rotating so that I am facing the bed. It’s a good fucking thing that I have kept up working out my upper body. It takes about fifteen minutes to get myself into a good position to pull myself up. I reach for the sheets, hoping they are tightly tucked in so I don’t end up on my ass again.
I think the exercises that Brianna is making me do have helped. During therapy, I have to lay on my belly so that my hip flexors stretch, and my hamstrings don’t tighten up.
I pull my good leg up as much as I can, trying to get some leverage for my upper body.
Praying the sheets don’t give way, I pull myself just enough to get my chest onto the bed. This is going to be a test of the strength in my good leg. Once I am able to shimmy my leg under me, I pull myself up on the edge of the bed. I can tell that I am going to be pretty sore tomorrow, but I feel like I accomplished something.
I manage to fall back to sleep quickly because the next thing I know Brianna is telling me to get my ass out of bed and ready for a great workout. The nurse comes in to help me. I manage to do a lot on my own even though I am more sore than usual.
I wheel myself down the hall to the therapy room after breakfast. “You ready to give it your all one last day this year?” Brianna asks.
I turn and look at her, “Let’s rock and roll.”
I am conflicted at the moment. I am about to leave my infant son so that I can go spend the day and night with Mac. He doesn’t know I am coming, but Patrick cleared it with the staff in D.C. while he was there.
Daniel and Chrissy are going to be staying at my house tonight to watch Shane. My flight leaves in a few hours and I should be there by 1:00 in the afternoon. I want to see Mac, in fact I need to see him, and I don’t care if he is pissed. I am tired of waiting for him to be ready.
I quickly pack my overnight bag. Chrissy and Daniel are in the living room with Shane. I have left them bottles, diapers and all the necessary phone numbers in case something happens. He has been a healthy, perfect angel since he has been home.
I wish I could take him to see his Dad, but he is still too young to be out, especially in a hospital setting. I have taken tons of pictures of him so that Mac can see how sweet he is. I am hoping this is the nudge he needs to get home to us soon.
Zipping up my bag, I walk into the living room where I see Shane sleeping on Daniel’s shoulder. It is a sweet picture, one that I hope to see soon with Mac. I feel bad that they are giving up their New Year’s Eve to help me out but they both insisted. I think it helps that neither of them is involved with anyone at the moment, so this gives them some brother-sister time.
“Thank you both so much for this. It means the world to me that I am able to go see Mac. Everything to keep Shane calm and entertained is on the kitchen counter, the bottles are in the refrigerator and the diapers are in his closet. All emergency numbers are on the table by the phone,” I say as tears well up in my eyes.
Chrissy comes over and hugs me. “Em, everything will be fine. You are only going to be gone for a little over 24 hours. All Shane will be doing in that time is eating, pooping, and sleeping. You need to go see your man and make sure he is ok, and I know what you are thinking. You think people will see you as a horrible mom because you are leaving your son overnight so soon. Let me tell you something, you have shown such strength and loyalty through all of this. I know you have struggled to not run to Mac’s side and to do as he wishes, but now it’s time for you to go be with him.”
Chrissy’s lecture makes me feel a bit better. I do feel guilty for leaving the baby, and I also feel guilty for going to see Mac when he said he doesn’t want me to see him like he is. At this point, I can’t take another day without him. I don’t care what he looks like or how he thinks I will react to seeing him. I am done relying on his schedule, and if that makes me a selfish bitch, then so be it.
I hug Chrissy and Daniel goodbye. I kiss Shane and tell him to be a good boy for his auntie and uncle until Mommy returns. He just sleeps through it all, and I pray that is what he does while I am gone just as I hope my flight is quick.
Physical therapy kicked my ass this morning. After falling out of bed last night, I am slower than usual. Brianna told me that I did a good job today, so I guess there is that. Since it is New Year’s Eve a couple of us are going to watch the New York City festivities in the communal room.
It’s not really the New Years that I thought I would ever have, but the guys here are great.
It is mid-morning and my mind wanders to what Emily and Shane must be doing to celebrate. If I know her, she is getting her Dad, Chrissy and Daniel together for dinner before they go out. Tonight is a busy evening for my Dad. MacAlister’s has always done well on New Year’s Eve. Of course, I wish I were there with him to help.
Planning to call Emily later, I make sure that my phone charged after last night’s fiasco. Turning to head out to see some of the guys down the hall, I see Brianna standing in my doorway.
“Hey, Bri. What’s up?” I ask her, and I notice that she has a grin on her face.
“Well…um. I was heading out, and I overheard a conversation that I thought you should know about.”
“Ok, that sounds interesting. Spill it.”
“Ok, so I was standing near the reception desk, and there was a woman who said that she wanted to see you. Mac, it’s your Emily.”
I told Bri about Emily and Shane when she asked about my family. She told me in no uncertain terms that I should have her visit, that it would help with my therapy.
“What do you mean? You saw her here?” I ask with a sense of impatience.
“Yes, she is at the front desk right now asking to see you. Why didn’t you put her on your list of approved visitors? She looks heartbroken.”
“Fuck, I never thought she would come here.”
Who the hell am I kidding? Of course, I knew she would not listen to me. Now what I am going to do? I can’t send her away, but I am not ready to let her see me like this.
“You need to go see her. She came all this way from Florida. It will do you both some good.”
I hedge but only for a moment.
As I wheel myself out to the reception area, Brianna is behind me. Either she is afraid that I will chicken out, or she just wants to see Emily rip me a new asshole.
My bet is on the latter.
I can’t freaking believe this. Patrick told me that he spoke to the person in charge of putting me on the list of visitors for Mac, but my name is nowhere to be found. Apparently, the patient is the only one who can approve visitors, and that son of a bitch left me off the list.
“Please, you don’t understand. I know he really wants to see me, he is just being stubborn,” I beg the receptionist.
“I am sorry Ms. Mills, but I can’t give you a visitor’s pass unless you are on the list. Have you tried calling your friend?”
Bitch, please.
“Ok, number one Sean MacAlister is my fiancé, not just my friend, and two, of course, I tried to call him. It went straight to voicemail.”
I can hear my voice start to crack, and I am going to lose my mind soon if she doesn’t help me.
“Ok, let me call his room and see if he is willing to see you.”
He better see me if he knows what’s good for him.
She turns her back to me and dials the phone. It is taking forever for him to answer. I cringe at the thought of him struggling to get to the phone. Hell, I don’t even know what to expect really even though Patrick tried to prepare me for seeing Mac without the lower part of his leg.
I have lived long enough to know that my imagination makes things worse than they really are.
The receptionist turns turn to me and shakes her head. “He didn’t answer. I’m sorry. Maybe you can try again later or tomorrow.”
“I go home tomorrow.” Tears start to stream down my face and I am starting to hyperventilate. I really don’t know if it is because he will not see me or because I am so close. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Mac told me that he didn’t want to see me yet, I guess I should have listened.
I wipe the tears that are running down my face. I straighten my spine and thank the receptionist for her time. Walking to the door, I hear him call out to me.
“Emily, wait.” I yell after her. That’s all it takes before she is running over to where I am, and I can see how much she has been crying. Emily drops her bag in front and me, her hands at her side.
Tears start to fall down her cheeks again as I see her gaze run over my body. My eyes never leave Emily, but I can see she is processing what has happened to me. She chokes back a sob and then approaches me. I would give anything for her to be able to jump into my arms.
When our eyes meet, I can see that she doesn’t have pity in her eyes, but a look of relief. I am sitting in my wheelchair with my gym shorts on and I can see her look at my leg. She looks me in the eyes, and she winks. She winks at me. God, I fucking love this woman.
“So, I am not on your list of approved visitors, huh. If you know what’s good for you Sean MacAlister, you will remedy that pretty quick.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Is that all you have to say to me?”
She leans down to me and her nose is almost touching mine. “Oh, I have plenty more to say but I don’t think you want other people to hear me,” she says as she raises an eyebrow.
Before she knows it, my lips crash to hers, and I let out a moan that she must feel through her whole body. She responds just as I had hoped. Her hands go to the back of my head and she holds me to her.
Suddenly, I hear Brianna clear her throat. Shit. I forgot that she was behind me.
Emily pulls back, and I miss her lips as soon as she does it.
I watch as Emily looks over my shoulder at Bri, and I immediately recognize her expression. I have seen it before, suspicion. Before I can introduce Bri to Emily, she does it herself.
“Hi Emily, I am Brianna, Mac’s physical therapist. I have heard a lot about you.” She says as she thrusts her hand forward.
Emily thinks she has a poker face, but she doesn’t. She looks as though Bri’s hand is covered in shit, but she shakes it nonetheless.
“Nice to meet you Brianna.”
“Well, I should be going. I have another session in a few minutes.”
“Bye Bri. Happy New Year.” I say, feeling Em’s eyes fixed on me.
I turn to look at my fiancée. She is striking. “You are fucking beautiful.”
I take her hand in mine, and she looks down at me with the same desire that has haunted my dreams since the last time we made love. “Do you have someplace where we can go talk?” Her voice comes out in a whisper.
I nod, “Hand me your bag Emily.”
“Mac, I can carry it,” she says quickly.
I blow out a sigh, “Ok, we need to get a few things straight right off the bat. Yes, I lost part of my leg but that doesn’t mean that I can’t still be a gentleman. Hand me the bag and I will carry it on my lap. Follow me and I will take you to my room where I can only assume you are going to rip me a new asshole.”
Sean MacAlister is one sexy man. Losing his leg has certainly not taken away from the throbbing that I feel between mine when I look at him. I can’t help but wonder, as we move to his room, if he still finds me attractive. I’m sure that he has been concerned about how I see him, but I feel the same way.
The pregnancy was easy up until the end but having a c-section has not allowed me to lose as much weight as I wanted. I was curvy before having Shane and now, more so. Suddenly, I am feeling self-conscious.
Walking behind his wheelchair, I focus on a new tattoo on his arm. “These things we do, that others may live.” It is the Pararescue Motto. A lump forms in my throat just thinking about how much worse this could have been.
We arrive at his room, thank God he has a single. Sean places my bag on a table and he wheels around to face me. “I am sorry I have been an ass.” He looks down at the floor like he is trying to search for the right words. “I just wanted to make sure that you focused on Shane because he needed you and there wasn’t anything you could’ve done for me while I was in Germany.”
I’m trying to understand his feelings and give him reassurance. “I do understand but it was frustrating not being able to run to you,” I say, and I can feel the physical pain in my chest start to come back.
Th
inking about him being in Germany undergoing such a traumatic event literally breaks my heart. He must sense it because he wheels over to where I am standing, and he grabs my hand. “You have to promise me, Emily, that you will not listen to me when I try to push you away. The next few months are going to be hell for me as I try to become more independent. I have seen many servicemen and women struggle while adjusting to new ways of doing things.”
I move closer to him and sit in the chair next to the table. Trying desperately to keep myself from kissing him until we can’t breathe, I avoid his big brown eyes. Focusing on my hands that I am holding in my lap, I tell him the only thing that makes sense right now. “I love you so much. My life with Shane is incomplete without you. We are a family, and families stick together. I will never let you push me away again.”
I am about to take a significant risk, but I need to know my boundaries. I stand up and move to him, “It is ok if I sit on your lap? I miss having you hold me.”
I can see Mac contemplating my question. God, I don’t want to make him feel bad, so I try to let him off the hook. “Mac, never mind. I shouldn’t have suggested it. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Jesus, way to go Emily. I am a freaking idiot. I stand up to give him some space, but he grabs my wrist. His touch stops me where I am, and it is as if he is branding me.
“Emily, I can see how unsure you are about what to do. I don’t want you to ever be afraid to ask for what you want from me.”
He tugs my arm a little, “Yes, you can sit on my lap. I have missed holding you too.”
Giving him a relieved smile, I hesitantly move to sit on his lap. Not wanting to hurt him, I land awkwardly and almost slip off. “Emily, the only thing you could ever hurt on me is my heart. Now cuddle in closer so I can feel what I have been missing.”
As soon as the words come out of his mouth, I immediately straddle him, snuggling my face into his neck. “I have missed you so much. I was so worried that you would never make it back to me,” I say in a whisper against his warm skin.
Rescued Hearts Page 13
