75. Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Thirty-nine
Leo
The weather is as foul as my mood as I pull my car into the garage of my apartment complex and ride the elevator up to my floor. We’re flying out to Philadelphia in a few days for a game that would be a challenge to win even if I was in top form. The way I’m playing now, we may as well concede the game before the ref even blows the first whistle.
And it’s not that I’m conceited enough to think that the team’s success rests single-handedly on my shoulders. It’s just that I’m playing so shitty that I’m sabotaging opportunities for the other players. Fumbling balls, missing goal opportunities, failing to pass when I should… I’m playing like a toddler who’s just learned to walk instead of the world-class striker I’m supposed to be.
The worst part is, I know what I need to do to make it better.
But that would entail finally coming clean to Alex. And even though the guilt is rotting me from the inside out, the words constantly one slip away from spilling out to him, I can’t seem to find the courage to actually do it. Even knowing that the longer we keep our secret, the worse he’ll react when we tell him. The betrayal will hit him that much deeper, destroying any chance I might have had at salvaging our friendship once and for all, yet still, I don’t tell him.
But the truth is, whether he finds out today, or a year from now, I’ll lose him regardless. I know it. I’m just not ready to let my best friend go.
The hallway leading to my apartment is eerily silent, the lights in the wall sconces flickering as a particularly strong gust of wind shudders against the building. It should be my first sign that something is wrong, but I’m too lost in my thoughts to see it for what it is.
It isn’t until I get to my door and find it already open that my heart rate begins to spike.
“Brynn?”
There’s no answer.
I shove through the doorway, dropping my gym bag on the floor, and running through to the living area. My stomach dives, my lungs seizing as I take in the scene around me.
Isabella is sobbing uncontrollably on the sofa in the living room, though I pay her no mind at all. Brynn sits wide-eyed and shell-shocked on the tile floor of the kitchen, her skin ashen, as Gordon does his best to calm her down by rubbing himself up against her and nudging her hand with his head. She doesn’t seem to notice, though, because her gaze is locked on the two EMTs attaching wires onto my daughter’s chest.
“What’s happened?” I bellow. One of the EMTs does something to Salem’s finger that makes her wail in pain, and I launch across the room. “Hey, stop that! You’re hurting her.”
Small hands wrap around my arms and pull me backward. I spin around, pinning Brynn with an accusatory glare. “What are you doing? They’re hurting her.”
Her eyes are so soft as she looks at me, so gentle and full of understanding. She reaches up to touch my neck, running her thumb over my pulse point. “They’re helping her, Leo.”
Helping her with what?
All I can see is my daughter’s tiny little body with those wires sticking out of her, the weird contraption on her finger, and the tears rolling down her cheeks. All I can hear is the sound of her cries and the incessant beeping of some machine. All I can taste is the acrid burn of panic on my tongue.
And still, no one is telling me what the fuck is going on.
“With what?” I grind out.
Brynn’s face collapses. “Salem choked on a grape. I managed to dislodge it, but by then, she was already turning blue.” She sees the stricken expression on my face, because she hastily says, “She’s fine now. The EMTs are just checking her over. But she’s okay, Leo. I promise. She’s okay.”
“Can I hold her?”
She shakes her head. “Not right now, but they’ll tell you when you can, okay?”
My vision is dappled with red and black spots, but I can’t look away from my daughter. I don’t even blink, too scared that she’ll disappear the very moment I can no longer see her.
I watch as the female EMT with striking red hair gently rocks Salem back and forth, whispering words of reassurance as her partner, a man in his late forties with a bald head and a full beard, notates readings from the heart rate monitor.
“It’s looking good,” he says. “I think it’s worth a trip down to the hospital, just to monitor her for a little while, but I’m not worried.”
Relief pours over me like warm water, soothing away the panic until all that’s left is anger.
I turn back to Brynn. “Who the fuck gave Salem whole grapes?”
She grimaces, her mind turning over as she thinks about what to say. But I catch the flick of her gaze toward Issy, who is watching us with red eyes and mascara-streaked cheeks.
My fists clench painfully at my sides. Of fucking course it was her.
“It wasn’t her fault,” Brynn says quickly, quietly too, as if she’s staring down the face of a predator and is trying not to provoke it.
Issy stands from the sofa, shuffling herself across the room to stand behind Brynn. “Yes, it was. You don’t need to protect me.”
My thunderous eyes lock on the woman who birthed my daughter, staring her down with such hateful intensity that she flinches from the force of it. “You nearly killed her.”
She winces. “I know. I’m sorry. I—”
“No,” Brynn interrupts her. “It was my fault. I didn’t tell her to slice the grapes first.”
“You shouldn’t have had to!” I snap. “It’s common fucking sense.”
Brynn’s eyes prickle with tears. She reaches for my face but lets her hands fall away before she touches me. Her breath trembles as she sucks in a breath, and her shoulders roll inward in defeat. “I left them alone,” she whispers.
“What?”
“Ivy called. I was only gone a few minutes, but I asked Issy to get Salem a snack. I told her there was fruit in the fridge, forgetting about the grapes. That’s on me, Leo. She didn’t know they had to be sliced first, but I did, and I didn’t tell her.”
Issy staggers back a few steps, holding tremoring hands in front of her mouth. “I can’t do this.”
My head snaps toward her. “What the fuck do you mean, you can’t do this ?”
Her whole body is shaking, her eyes wild, her expression manic. She throws her arms out, gesturing at me, at Brynn, then at Salem, who’s sleeping peacefully in the arms of the red-haired EMT, who is clearly trying to pretend like she can’t hear us. “This. You. Salem. Being a mom. I can’t do it. I can’t do any of it.” Her voice is so choked and breathless that the words are barely audible. But I hear them, and they sink through me like a shipwreck splintering into pieces at the bottom of the ocean.
“So, that’s it? You’re walking out on her, again? ”
Tears rain down her face as she continues to stumble backward, away from us, bumping into the oak armrest of a chair in the living area. She sways on her feet, stopping only for a moment. “I was left alone with her for ten minutes. Ten minutes, and she almost died. If Brynn hadn’t known exactly what to do, if she hadn’t noticed the second Salem started choking and immediately jumped in to help her… I can’t even think about it.”
“It was an accident, Issy,” Brynn implores, watching her friend with sadness. “Parents make mistakes every day. Sometimes the kids are fine; sometimes they aren’t. All we can do is learn and do better so the same thing doesn’t happen again. It was a mistake that I could have prevented. It doesn’t make you incapable of taking care of her.”
My hands twist at my side, emotions harrowing through me with such force that I struggle to identify them.
I don’t know what I should be feeling.
For the past month, I’ve wanted nothing more than for Isabella to disappear from our lives. Aside from the circumstances, this is everything I’ve wanted. I should be relieved, yet I’m furious.
She’s walked out on my daughter once already, and now she wants to do it again.
After begging me to let her back into Salem’s life, after everything her presence has made Brynn feel, after jeopardizing the peace and future of my family…she’s leaving again? Just decided it’s too hard and she wants to wash her hands of it all?
How dare she?
“You shouldn’t be scared to leave me in a room with my own daughter, but you obviously need to be,” Issy sobs. “And it’s not just that. I can’t—” She scrunches her eyes shut, thumping her hand against her heart. “I can’t make myself feel what I want so badly to feel. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so fucking hard. It’s not working. None of it is working.”
In the kitchen, the EMTs begin muttering quietly amongst themselves, sending the occasional awkward glance in our direction. Aside from routinely checking on Salem every fifteen seconds, I pay them no mind, too distracted by the shit-show exploding in front of me to care that they can hear everything.
“Issy—” Brynn starts, but Isabella shakes her head.
“No. There’s nothing you can say to make me change my mind.” She snatches her purse off the living room rug and clutches it to her chest, inching farther and farther away from us. “I can’t do this. I can’t be the mom she deserves. I never will be. And it wouldn’t be fair to her to keep trying.” She looks at her friend, her face softening. “I’m not like you, Brynn. I don’t have the capacity to love her like you do.”
“But—”
I curl my arm around Brynn’s waist and pull her into me. “Let her go.”
“I’m sorry,” Isabella whispers from under the arch of the hallway. “I’m so sorry.”
And then she’s gone.
The balding EMT watches the spectacle unfold with his hands on his hips. Scratching the back of his head with a grimace, he clears his throat. “Right. We’re all ready to go. You might want to grab a bag, because you’ll probably be in the hospital until tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah.” I cough. “Okay.”
Brynn wipes her eyes and rolls her shoulders back. “Can we take Salem down to the ambulance? I think Leo really needs to hold his daughter.”
The female EMT gives us a soft smile, nods, and gently transitions a sleeping Salem into my arms. I look down at my daughter. Her dark lashes flutter dreamily against her cheeks, full of color and life. I breathe in the milky scent of her head, resting my face against her curls and counting each time her chest rises and falls.
She’s okay.
“She is.” Brynn smiles reassuringly, and I realize I said that out loud.
“You have your girlfriend to thank for that, sir,” the male EMT says, looking at Brynn warmly. “If she hadn’t acted so quickly, we would have been looking at a very different situation. She saved your daughter’s life, no question about it.”
Brynn flushes, her gaze dipping to the floor but not from embarrassment. I can see her misplaced guilt in the way she gnaws on her lip and digs the sharp points of her fingernails into her fisted palms.
She blames herself for what happened.
She doesn’t need to.
Even if I was pissed off that she’d left Isabella alone with Salem to take a phone call—albeit, an important one—knowing that she’s the reason my daughter is safe and alive in my arms negates all that.
“I know,” I respond to the EMT, but I’m talking only to Brynn when I say, “I owe her everything.”