Come Back for You: Boys of Alabama

by Mica Halstead

  I slide her hospital tray table out of the way, settling myself on the bed beside her. She leans into me.

  “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just,” I inhale, trying to find the words, “I’ve never been so scared, Whit. Not when Everly died, not when your dad told me to leave you alone, and not when I came back to town knowin’ how pissed you were at me. I was so scared I would lose you again.” She pats my knee and pulls my face towards her.

  “And I love you so much, I really do. But honey, there’s only so many times you can try to force feed me jello before I punch you in the dick.” I cough out a laugh, shaking my head. This woman.

  “Well, that was an interesting conversation to walk into,” the doctor says from the front of the room. My body shakes with laughter as Whitley’s cheeks turn red.

  “I just said the word dick in front of the doctor,” she moans, dropping her head back against the bed and covering her eyes with her hand.

  “Twice,” he quips, making his way towards us, shaking my hand and then Whit’s. “I’m Dr. Richards,” Whitley chokes on a laugh.

  “No shit?” I say and he grins.

  “Nah, just messing with ya. I’m Dr. LaVoy. How’s our patient?” He listens to her chest, checks her breathing, and wraps the stethoscope back around his neck before pulling the stool beside the table.

  “I’m fine. Honest. Just tired,” she says, and he nods his head.

  “That’s common. Is it okay for us to talk freely in front of him?” He asks, and she nods her head, taking my hand in hers. “Very well. Whitley, when was the last time you had a period?” He asks and my body stills, the same as hers.

  “Uh, well. I think maybe eight weeks ago?” She says. “It’s not regular, never really has been. Why?” The doctor clears his throat.

  “Well, we got the results back from your blood draw. Looks like what he injected in you wasn’t actually heroin, it was something called Rohypnol.”

  “The date rape drug?” She asks, squeezing my hand and I squeeze back.

  “Yes ma’am. Which is better than the heroin we thought it was, but it is a little concerning since you’re pregnant.”

  She laughs, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you right. I’m what now?”

  “Pregnant. We are gonna need to do an ultrasound to check on the baby. Make sure the heart rate is good and strong. I’d also like to monitor you overnight.” He says and Whitley cracks up.

  “Sir, no disrespect, but that’s not possible. Ya see, I’ve only been with one man in the last year,” she hitches her thumb towards me, “and it’s this big idiot, who had a vasectomy ten years ago.”

  “Thanks, babe,” I mumble, patting her hand.

  “Well, nothing is one hundred percent effective. What say we bring the ultrasound technician in, just to double check.” He winks and stands, washing his hands before leaving the room. She turns to me.

  “I swear, it’s only been you Dean,” she insists, and I cut her off. Because I trust her, and I believe her when she says she hasn’t slept with anyone else.

  “I believe you, sugar. Let’s just let the tech take a peek and then we’ll talk, okay?” She nods in agreement and I press a kiss to her forehead, my mind running a mile a minute. Shortly after, the technician rolls the machine into the room.

  “Well, hello, mama and daddy!” She chirps, lowering Whitley’s bed and tucking the blanket down and her gown up, so her stomach is exposed. I swallow heavily as memories of the last time that we did this fill my mind. Whit inhales a shaky breath and I can tell she’s feeling the same type of way.

  “Scoot over,” I urge her, sliding up onto the bed. She looks at me like I’m insane.

  “Dean,” she hisses.

  “Scoot that fine ass, baby,” I nudge her over, sprawling out beside her and propping myself up on my elbow. The tech arches an eyebrow at me. I make a ‘carry on’ gesture and Whitley huffs out a breath.

  “Alrighty roo, let’s take a peek.” The tech squirts the gel on her stomach, and I lace my fingers with Whitley’s. It’s not long after she moves the wand around that the sound of the baby’s heartbeat fills the room.

  “Oh my god, Dean!” Whit squeals out, excitement lacing her voice and I can’t help but feel a little giddy myself.

  “Holy fuck,” comes from the doorway and we both glance over at Zander. He holds his hands up, “shit sorry guys, I can just...” he hitches a thumb over his shoulder.

  “No no, you’re fine, come on in,” Whitley invites him in, and I grunt, Zander chuckling as he makes his way into the room further.

  “I’ll be damned,” he murmurs, “congrats y’all.”

  The tech pressed some buttons that spit out a couple pictures, taking a few measurements before putting the wand back and cleaning off Whit’s stomach. She hands Whitley the ultrasound pictures and wheels the machine back out of the room with a promise that the doctor will be back shortly. I’m still frozen. Silent. I don’t have any words.

  “Hey,” Whit shakes me out of my stupor by placing her hand on my cheek, her eyes bouncing back and forth between mine. “Oh my god,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes.

  “What? What’s wrong? Are you gonna puke?”

  She coughs out a laugh and shakes her head. “No, I’m not goin’ to puke, Dean,” she rolls her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, just two days ago we were fightin’ because you didn’t want to do this again.” God, I’m so fucking stupid.

  “Baby, if the last twenty-four hours have taught me anything, it’s that life is precious, and it can change in an instant. Me having the vasectomy, that wasn’t about not wanting kids, not really. It was about being so scared to go through what we went through again. Losing Everly,” I swallow around the emotion in my throat, sliding my hand into her hair, “losing her was so hard and I wish every day it was different. But baby, losin’ you? That would have killed me. And having a baby with you? Well fuck, honey, that’s just more of you that I get to spend the rest of my life lovin’.” I seal my lips over hers, an unspoken promise passing between us. A promise to love her through the good and the bad. Not just today, but forever.

  Whitley

  Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I inspect my reflection. My skin is paler than usual, bags under my eyes and my hair is piled on top of my head. I run the sink, splashing water on my face. The bathroom door opens, and I meet Dean’s eyes in the mirror.

  “You ready, honey? The nurse just dropped off your discharge papers.” Discharged from the hospital and six weeks pregnant. I just got done throwin’ up my breakfast in the toilet, not sure if it’s morning sickness or nerves. I give him a weak smile. “They also sent your prescriptions to the pharmacy. I’ll get you home and run up later to pick them up.”

  “Thank you,” my smile falters a little. Pregnant. Dean comes up behind me and rests his hands on my stomach, him behind me, both of us looking in the mirror. He drops a kiss to my shoulder.

  “If...” he starts and stops, blowing out a shaky breath, “if this isn’t something you want…” he trails off, leaving it unsaid. I shake my head.

  “I do. I do want it. So bad. I’m just scared,” I finish in a whisper. Scared of losing another baby. Scared of losing Dean again.

  “I’m scared, too. But no risk is worth taking if it isn’t scary. Now, how about we get you home?”

  Dean

  Steering us towards the house, I glance at my girl asleep in the passenger seat. The closest hospital is a few towns over, which made the drive home about an hour long. She was out before we hit the highway, likely exhausted from the activity over the last few days. I pull the truck to a stop in front of the house, putting it in park, but I don’t make a move to get out. This isn’t how I expected to spend our first Christmas together.

  My mind runs over the last twenty-four hours, tripping over the thought of how I almost lost her because I was so selfish. I texted Jensen for an update on Kolby and he said that during interrogation he confessed to everything
. We won’t know his charges until later this week when they officially file against him. Apparently, me proposing to Whitley caused some sort of psychotic break in the guy, which led to his crush turning into an infatuation and him waiting for the right moment to strike. Coming across her on her walk home was pure luck and he took the opportunity. He was busy that night, because he saw Indigo walking home and took that opportunity as well. She fought like hell, though. The doctors scraped out skin from under her fingernails, all Kolby’s.

  I scrub my hands over my face and quietly climb out of the truck, rounding to the passenger side and opening the door.

  “Baby,” I whisper, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Wake up.”

  Her eyes flutter open and she looks around before letting me help her down from the truck. I help her inside, ushering her into the house.

  “Surprise!” Whitley startles at the group in front of us. I rounded all our friends and family up, so everyone is here. There’s a sign hanging that says ‘congratulations’ along with a sign that says ‘it’s a boy’ but the word boy has been scribbled out and the word baby written in. Jesus Christ.

  Whitley coughs out a laugh and bursts into tears as her mama pulls her in for a hug. I glare at Zander who obviously couldn’t keep a secret.

  “What, man? You’re pregnant. Everyone needs to know.” I punch him in the shoulder.

  “Is this your work, too?” I ask, motioning at the sign. He grins, nodding his head.

  “Absolutely. It’s all I could find on such short notice, so I had to work with what I had.”

  Whitley makes her way around the group, giving everyone hugs before eventually landing back with me. I pull her into me, dropping a kiss on top of her head.

  “If it’s too much just say the word, I’ll kick all of ‘em out,” I murmur, rubbing her back. She squeezes me around the waist and rests her head against my chest.

  “It’s not too much. It’s perfect.”

  I go about starting a fire in the fireplace while Whitley rests on the couch, talking to Lex and Avery. Since we weren’t able to have Christmas eve with all of our family, I figured the next best thing was Christmas day. Whitley’s mama and mine have been in the kitchen cooking up a storm and Lex and Ford went about getting the word out for me to everyone else. Our house is packed full of all the people we love and even though I know she’s exhausted, I think it’s just what Whitley needs. I drop a kiss on the top of her head as I head to the kitchen to check on the moms before meandering out onto the back patio where all the guys have gathered.

  “How is she?” Jaxson asks, nodding his head towards the house.

  “She’s okay,” I say, scrubbing a hand over my face, the adrenaline from the last twenty-four hours starting to catch up to me. I drop down into the chair across from Jensen.

  “How are you?” Ford asks, raising an eyebrow in question, referring to the whole ‘we’re having a baby’ thing.

  “Scared, excited, and overwhelmed,” I answered honestly. Scared out of my mind to be having another baby but excited all the same. “Apparently, no vasectomy is one hundred percent.”

  “How does Whitley feel about having a baby?” That question comes from Jensen.

  “She’s always wanted a huge gaggle of kids, so she’s thrilled. I think she’s worried I’ll bail, though.” Jensen narrows his eyes at me, and I hold my hands up. “I won’t. She’s just gun-shy.”

  The patio door slides open and my girl makes her way out onto the patio, immediately coming to me and settling herself in my lap. I tuck her into me, relishing the fact that she’s home safe and sound. The guys make themselves scarce and head back inside.

  “The doctor called. We have our first baby appointment tomorrow at two.” She says quietly, still not looking at me. I use my finger to tilt her chin up and meet her eyes with mine. Hers are filled with unshed tears. I furrow my brows.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m just afraid this is all too much for you,” she whispers, tears slipping out of her beautiful green eyes. I knife up from the chair, turning her so she’s straddling me and settling my hands on her hips.

  “Sugar listen to me. If the last day has taught me anything, it’s that I would die if I lost you. I was out of my mind, not knowin’ where you were, if you were safe. Losing you would have destroyed me. And I can say, with absolute certainty, that I am thrilled to be having a baby with you.” She sniffles and a small smile plays on her lips.

  “Are you sure?” She asks.

  “Positive,” I respond without hesitation, pulling her close and wrapping my arms around her in a hug. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and settles her face in the crook of my neck. I still can’t believe I almost missed out on this incredible life with her. We may only be just getting started, but I know without a doubt that this woman was made for me and I can’t wait to spend every day of the rest of my life letting her know how lucky I am.

  Epilogue

  “One more push,” the doctor calls out and I grit my teeth.

  “It was one more push five fuckin’ pushes ago,” I say, bearing down and pushing. I’ve been in labor for twenty-six hours and pushing for the last three and I swear to god I’m about to call it a day and just let this baby live inside me for the rest of my life.

  “You’re doing so good, sugar.” I whip my head to the side and narrow my eyes at my husband. His face blanches.

  “You,” I seethe, breathing hard. “You did this to me.” He grins, not feeling the least bit bad about it, and shrugs his shoulder.

  “We make good babies,” he says, unapologetically. He’s not wrong, we do make good babies. I should know, this is the fifth one I’ve carried. Everly was first, our angel baby. Then came River, who was the world's best baby and is now the world’s rowdiest six-year-old. After that was Eliza Jean, my sweet four-year-old who just wants everyone to love her and takes no shit. She is the sassiest thing and Dean swears she gets that from me even though he’s obviously wrong. After that came Davey June, who despite her boyish name, is the epitome of a sweet baby girl. She’s fourteen months old and has her daddy wrapped around her chubby little finger. Apparently, Dean’s vasectomy was a total fail, we aren’t even sure that the doctor did anything he said he did. Serves him right for going to some backwoods clinic in North Dakota.

  “I know it feels like you’ve been pushing forever, Whitley, but the baby is breech. I need another real big push.” We’ve waited to know the sex of the baby, wanting it to be a surprise. It didn’t matter anyways, as long as he or she is healthy, but this has by far been my hardest pregnancy. The contractions started about four months into it and the doctor said because of my age and the number of pregnancies I’ve had; this one was considered high risk. He put me on strict bed rest, which if you can imagine was next to impossible with three kids running around. Mama and Darla have been incredible helping and Dean is almost always home now that we have a good team at the bar.

  Dean squeezes my hand and presses a kiss to my temple. I bear down one more time, pushing with everything I have, but nothing happens. I drop my head back against the bed, my emotions getting the best of me.

  “I can’t, Dean. I’m too tired,” I sob out, tears streaming down my cheeks. He drops my hand and tips my chin up so that he can look in my eyes.

  “You’re the strongest person I know, Whitley Jean, and you’re so close.” I shake my head, but he keeps talking. “Yes, baby. You can do this. You’re beautiful and brave and the best momma this little one and all those other babies could ever have.” I inhale a shaky breath.

  “Whitley, I need you to push,” the doctor says, and I growl at him. Dean grabs my right leg, and the nurse grabs my left and I push with everything I have, collapsing against the bed just as my baby lets out its first cry. A sob escapes me.

  “It’s a boy!” The doctor calls out before having Dean cut the umbilical cord and handing him off to a nurse, who wipes him off and places him on my chest. Skin to skin is incredible and it’s somet
hin’ I’ve done with all of my babies right after birth, even with Everly.

  “You did so good,” Dean says, pressing a kiss to my cheek and gazing down at our sweet baby boy. We sit like that for a short time before the nurse swoops in and takes him to clean him up and weigh and measure him. It’s hours later, after all of our friends and family have come to get in their baby snuggles and give their congratulations. Dean is sitting in the chair next to my hospital bed and he looks so handsome with his shirt off, doing his own skin to skin contact with the baby.

  “I think I decided on a name,” I announce, shoving another french fry in my mouth. Dean hits me with that lopsided grin.

  “Oh yeah? Lemme hear it.”

  “Axel James Anderson.” I say to him and his face softens at the middle name, in honor of his old friend Jim. He looks down at the baby and back at me.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, my hormones racketing up and making me cry again. “For giving me this big, beautiful life. You’re the most amazing dad and husband.” He stands and climbs carefully into the bed with me, with the baby still in his arms.

  “Lovin’ you is easy, Whitley Jean. Been doin’ it for more than half of my life.”

  Bonus Epilogue

  Two years later

  “Axel James Anderson, if you don’t get out of that tree right now, I’m gonna tan your hide!” I holler out the back door and my little daredevil leaps out of the tree, landing on his feet before taking off towards his siblings. I’m not sure I’ll survive raising this boy. He’s wild and wonderful and gives me gray hairs. I slide the patio door shut, going back to my task at the counter, chopping up vegetables for dinner in front of the window, where I can still keep an eye on the kids.