Trusting You

by Ketley Allison

  Dr. Hurwitz’s words hit my ears, but it’s hard for me to understand them. Pulmonary embolism, he says. A blood clot to the lung. Likely formed by all the times he lay prone, not exercising, after multiple surgeries, and his expedition today likely loosened a clot in his leg enough that it traveled to his lungs and stuck there.

  A life-threatening occurrence. More deadly than not.

  “Is he all right?” I ask. Lily makes noises about wanting to be let loose, but I hold her close.

  “We’ve done what we could, and all signs are pointing to yes,” Dr. Hurwitz says. “He’s awake. Bruised and weak, but alert. You can go down and visit him.”

  I glance down at Lily.

  “I’m afraid she’ll have to stay up here. Babies in the ICU…well, you can see the obvious there.”

  I’m torn to shreds between leaving this vulnerable little girl in a hospital crib and making sure Locke is okay. Before, when I hated Locke, the choice would have been easy. But now, with all we’ve shared and the very close chance of losing him, I simply don’t know what to do.

  The same nurse that assured me before walks in while Dr. Hurwitz is discussing my options.

  She says, with much better communication skills than the doctor, “How about you wait until she falls asleep, honey, then sneak downstairs. I promise I’ll watch her like a hawk.”

  Lily seems to like Nurse Avery, because every time she bends down to listen to Lily’s heart, Lily’s taken with the color of her pink scrubs and yellow duckies printed all over.

  I squeeze Lily, then say, “Thank you. That sounds like a great idea.”

  “It’s settled then.” Nurse Avery winks at me, then makes herself busy in the room. Dr. Hurwitz nods his good-bye before departing.

  Within the next twenty minutes, Lily’s eyelids are getting heavy again. She’s not used to the constant wakings and is getting crankier each time it happens. Part of me is secretly grateful I’ll miss the next one, now that there’s relief she’s perfectly healthy.

  When Lily starts her light snores, I lay her down gently, whispering another thank you and good-bye to Nurse Avery, then begin the short walk into another unknown.

  31

  Locke

  Goddamn.

  Goddamn, I hurt.

  Each breath is like an icepick being driven into my chest, so I don’t gasp too deeply, keep my breaths shallow. I’m unwilling to feel that kind of stabbing pain on repeat.

  The nurses won’t let me leave my bed. My left leg is hanging from an all-too-familiar strap, remaining elevated to reduce swelling.

  I’m lucky, the doctors say, I didn’t sustain further damage to my mostly-metal kneecap. I’m lucky, they continue, I didn’t break my neck.

  You’re right, I only dropped my eleven-month-old down an entire flight of stairs. So lucky. So fucking lucky I did that.

  The docs cleared their throat at that. The nurses couldn’t look me in the eye.

  “It’s not your fault,” one nurse dared to say.

  Now it was my turn to look away.

  When I came to the first time, the ambulance rocking my body in the worst way as we hit every pothole to the hospital, they had to restrain me. The agony in my chest bit at me with every exertion, every hoarse cry for my daughter, where was she, tell me where she is, take me to my daughter—my knee spiking with damage at each movement. But I didn’t care. Don’t care. All I want to know is what happened to Lily.

  My Lily.

  I want to die. Just fucking curl up and wither away like an old man as soon as I regain consciousness in this hospital room, the lights so bright the mere act of blinking brings tears to my eyes.

  Where’s the black, I want to ask. Take me back there. If Lily’s hurt, take me to the black with her. I don’t want color anymore. Fucking erase the light.

  A few minutes ago, I was assured Lily’s okay. Carter’s in the room with her. Carter—

  And Lily is being well cared for and will likely be discharged by morning.

  Me, however, I have a few days left in this gurney, both because of my knee, my fall, and oh, yeah, the blood clot we’re waiting to dissolve in my lung.

  None of that matters, though, because I hurt my daughter.

  She’s been admitted to the hospital, and it’s my fault, and she’s not even a year old. And I’ve only been responsible for her for not even a month. Two and a half weeks was all it took to fuck up epically.

  My jaw clenches. The machine monitoring my heart starts beeping rapidly, and I tell myself to calm down. I’d only just gotten rid of the constant barrage of hospital staff and prefer the chance to further wallow alone.

  “Locke?” a tentative voice asks at the door.

  “Go away,” I say with a rasp. I frown at how much weakness is in the tone. “I’m fine.”

  “Okay.”

  I register a dark sweep of hair, a golden arm before it hits me. “Carter.”

  She stills with the door halfway shut. Her buttery eyes, framed by clumped, damp lashes, hover near the door.

  “It’s okay.” I usher her in with a clumsy hand, an IV shoved into the center with tubes trailing down. “You can come in.”

  “I don’t want to disturb you if you’re resting.”

  “You could never.” I clear my throat, demand some masculinity back. “You’ve seen Lily?”

  “I have. She’s doing great.” Carter moves closer to the bed, taking in every single part of me. She worries her lower lip.

  “I’m fine,” I assure. “I’ve experienced worse.”

  “You could’ve died,” she says, staring hard at my chest. “Just like that, you could’ve been snuffed out, because you’re not taking care of yourself. And you almost took Lily with you.”

  My body goes cold. “I’m well aware of that.”

  “Are you?” Her gaze skates to mine, all that melted butter going hard as stained glass. “Because the doctors tell me it was because you weren’t exercising properly after surgery, weren’t doing much, really, other than pretending to be fine, all the while your blood was working against you.”

  “I didn’t know,” I say honestly. “I had no idea the kind of danger I was bringing on. When you and Lily came into my life, that was all I could think about. I wasn’t concerned with my physical therapy, my fucking knee—”

  “Clearly,” she says. “All those times you carried her when you shouldn’t, you lifted the stroller when you shouldn’t—”

  “What did you expect me to do?” My breaths are going tight, but I’m ignoring it. The pain in my chest is nothing compared to the way Carter’s looking at me. “Not hold my daughter for the first time? Not learn to love her and play with her?”

  “Of course not. Don’t frame it like I’m telling you to stay away from Lily.”

  The stone of Carter’s expression, the sheer anger radiating from her gaze, is nothing I’ve ever endured before. Not when she first met me and despised me on sight. Not when she considered me nothing but a turkey baster. Not even when she knew she’d have to give Lily up to me.

  “You could’ve been honest,” she continues. “And let me know your limitations. We could have worked with it, made sure you were healthy while you got to know your daughter. Because, Locke, while you’re so busy living in the present determined to ignore any sort of flaw, I’m worried about Lily’s future. And she needs you in it.”

  My teeth grind, and I hate how her words sting. “I didn’t pretend to be macho just to look good. I wanted to be a father to Lily and not show any weakness for her—”

  “She’s a baby,” Carter practically spits. “She can't understand you’re weak.”

  “But she will,” I cut in.

  “What the—? Get off your fucking throne, Locke.”

  “What throne? I’m an athlete. I’m supposed to fight off pain—”

  “Right, because all the time you spent thinning your blood with alcohol, you were thinking of being the best athlete you could be—”

  “Oh, come on—”<
br />
  “Ironically, that’s what saved you, back then. But the instant you stopped drinking, you upped your risk of serious complications. And you didn’t give a damn.”

  “Don’t pretend you know anything about what I went through.”

  “You have a daughter. You’re responsible for someone other than yourself, and here I am, hoping that’s enough to get you to stop being Mister Macho Man—”

  “And what kind of dad am I, huh? One who wasn’t around for her birth, a guy who had no clue about Lily until she was plopped into my life, in a way where she could have no opinion on the matter. She was obviously better off with you. I didn’t start out so good with her, Carter. Don’t blame me for wanting to be better and stronger for my daughter.”

  “Strong and pigheaded are two different things.”

  “Give me a break! My whole life was upturned when you showed up at my doorstep. I’m navigating it as best I can—don’t you give me some sarcastic apology about ruining my life, I can see you gearing up for it—and I thought I could do more. Obviously, I fucking failed. Again.” I splay out my arms. “Lesson learned, all right? I’ve got no macho man left in me. You win.”

  “You nearly died, Locke.” Carter’s voice breaks. “I understand your injury making you question everything. Having your pro-athlete title stripped from you, making you feel like less of a man. But was that really enough reason to put your life at risk?”

  “I didn’t give a shit about my life,” I mumble.

  “I did,” she says, her voice trembling. I catch her eye, and she’s sparkling with tears. “I give a shit about you. And so does Lily. And maybe I should’ve been clearer on that.”

  I look at her closer. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”

  “I should’ve known,” Carter says. “All the times you complained about your knee. Or even those moments when you were wincing, pretending it didn’t hurt you as much as it did. Your growing stiffness. I should’ve caught on.”

  “I swear, lady, if you put this on yourself I’m going to be even more fucking angry than I already am.”

  “Don’t you dare be mad at me.”

  “I’m—” Oh, fuck, this is starting to hurt. “I’m mad at myself, Carter. Furious with what could’ve happened to Lily. And blame? I’ve got a whole boatload of that, directed at yours truly. I am not so prideful as to understand what I’ve done. And I don’t need you reminding me.”

  She closes her mouth, but she hasn’t finished her scrutiny of me. I don’t snap at her to stop, because I can barely muster the energy.

  “Even now,” she eventually says, so quiet I barely catch it, “you’re pretending to be stronger than you are.”

  I stare at her a while. “I will do whatever I need to so you don’t leave this room hating me.”

  She closes her eyes and shakes her head, tears trailing down her cheeks. “I’m far from hating you.”

  I’m stuck for words. That’s the last thing I thought she’d say.

  “You can break down with me,” she says. “You can trust me enough to show your cracks in the armor. I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” When I don’t say anything, she says, more urgently, “Okay, you asshole?”

  I nod. She reaches for my hand and squeezes.

  “You do not get to blame yourself for this. I’m sorry I came at you. There was just this…an overwhelming sense of…” she trails off.

  “You don’t have to explain it.”

  “You need to sleep, Locke. And do it well. And recover. And promise me, promise me, you will be there for Lily, always. That you will do what it takes to never leave her without a father.”

  Carter doesn’t have to say the last part. Because she no longer has a mother.

  “I promise,” I say.

  Carter notices the rough edge in my tone, the trembling of my fingers in her hand, and she backs up. I don’t want her to go, but I’m aware of her destination. She’s going back to Lily, and I want to be there with them. I want the three of us together.

  When Carter says some kind of good-bye and walks away, I watch her retreating back, and think, I want to do whatever it takes to be there for you, too.

  32

  Carter

  I’m a bitch.

  There’s a sick lurching in my belly every time I step forward, out of Locke’s hospital room, and into the group of people waiting to see him.

  “How was he?” Ben asks, flying out of his chair.

  “Is he doin’ okay?” Asher asks beside him. He lifts off the wall where he was menacingly leaning, crossing his tatted arms.

  “Did he seem alert?” Easton asks, standing in the middle of the waiting room, holding a Styrofoam cup of coffee.

  These three men barrel down on me. At any other time and if I were any other woman, I might’ve shrieked and run away.

  “I yelled at him,” I say instead.

  “You what?” Ben asks. Asher’s brows jump.

  “I yelled at him for being so stupid,” I repeat, then burst into tears.

  “Oh, boy,” Asher says.

  “It’s…don’t worry…” Ben says awkwardly.

  Easton comes up next to me and squeezes my shoulder. “Totally standard. It’s the only way we usually communicate with him, too.”

  I turn and bury my face in Easton’s leather, sobbing. “He can barely breathe in there, and I’m making him explain what happened, bringing up Lily as if he isn’t beating himself up about it, and you can see it, see the guilt all over him and how much he blames himself, and there I am, yelling that he’s an asshole—”

  “There, there,” Ben says behind me. He offers an awkward pat in the space where Easton isn’t rubbing my back.

  “This is stressful on all parties,” Asher pipes in. “Wait’ll his sister unloads on him.”

  “Yep,” Ben says. “He’s gonna have more bruises than he came in with.”

  “Hear that? Your yelling was nothing,” Easton assures. “His family will strip his skin off.”

  I raise my face from Easton’s chest, my cheeks hot in certain places and sticky with tears in others. “His f-family? As in more than Astor?”

  “Yeah, Astor and their dad are stuck on the FDR. Some kind of car pileup.” Ben glances at his phone. “Believe me, I’m hearing about it.”

  “He has a dad?” I say it before I think it through, breaths still hitching.

  “Uh, yeah,” Asher responds, but he’s regarding me in a where did this chick come from sort of way.

  “Locke doesn’t talk about his family very much,” I say as an explanation. And, I remember, neither do I, so maybe I deserve the lack of information. But it’s curious his dad hasn’t met Lily.

  “Probably with good reason. After his mom—”

  A cutting look from Ben shuts Asher up.

  “Anyway,” Asher says instead, “you’ll meet Papa Hayes soon.”

  I’m not pondering it too much. Now that I’ve collected myself, all I want to do is get back to Lily.

  “Text me when Astor’s here?” I ask Ben. “I’m going to be with Lily.”

  “‘Course,” he says before pocketing his phone. “You’ll probably see Astor before I talk to her. She’s going to pick Lily up.”

  “Pick up?” I ask dumbly.

  Ben shuffles uncomfortably. “Yeah…she’s been calling the hospital. Lily’s ready to be discharged. To family.”

  Familiar sickness grows in my stomach. “Right.”

  “Uh…you can stay with Lily until then. Astor requested it,” Ben says like that can lift my spirits.

  I can now go see Lily because Astor, Lily’s aunt, granted me permission.

  When would my heart stop tearing? Every time I think it’s reached the point of no repair, there’s another rip, a further shred, to an already tattered organ.

  “Let her know I’ll meet her in Lily’s room, then,” I say in a more professional tone.

  “Yep.” Ben’s not looking at me anymore.

  In fact, Easton’s arm has dropped f
rom my shoulders and Asher’s back to wall-leaning.

  It’s a miracle they allowed me in Locke’s room in the first place. Incredibly shocking they didn’t scream, Imposter! as soon as they saw me race into Locke’s room while shouting for security.

  I slump. Mean thoughts won’t get me anywhere. And these guys have been nothing but polite so far. Their loyalty lies with Locke and the Hayes family. That’s how it should be. I’m a stranger dancing along the edges of their group, connected by a baby they’re only just getting to know.

  If I were them, I’d be cautiously polite, too.

  “See you,” I say quietly, then walk away from them.

  Nobody tries to stop me.

  Nurse Avery politely doesn’t discuss the information that I’m not Lily’s mother when I get back to the room.

  Lily’s asleep, and Nurse Avery explains they’re letting her go a little longer now without waking.

  “You should catch some shut-eye, too, honey,” she says softly as she rounds Lily’s hospital crib.

  She pats my shoulder as she departs, and that very act of kindness nearly sends me into a fresh round of tears.

  For the moment, Lily’s not being taken away, and I must remember that. Stay strong in it.

  I take a seat in the chair next to her crib, staring at the small rises and falls of her chest, and can’t help drifting off myself.

  A light jostle wakes me, and I blink my eyes open to see Astor standing above me. She’s clad in a black suit, probably rushing out of her office when she heard about Locke’s accident.

  An accident I should’ve called her about.

  “Astor, I’m so sorry,” I start, and she shushes me, glancing at Lily.

  I nod, and with her help, get out of the chair and step outside the room.

  “I didn’t call you the instant I learned what happened,” I say to her once the door to Lily’s room is shut. “I can’t believe I didn’t.”

  “There was a lot going on. You wanted to get to the hospital,” Astor says, and now I feel guilty for making her reassure me when it’s her brother and niece staying overnight at a hospital.