Nineteen
nineteen
I’LL BE - EDWIN MCCAIN
CALLIE - DECEMBER 14, 2013
M y phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with a message from an unknown number.
Unknown:
Callie, it’s Katie. I’m texting because I didn’t think you’d answer a call from an unknown number. There’s something going on with Ruby. We’re on our way to the ER. She has a fever and a rash.
My heart drops. I reread the message, hoping I misunderstood, but the words don’t change. A fever and a rash? My mind spirals, imagining every worst-case scenario. Ruby was fine earlier. How did this happen so fast? My hands tremble as I text back.
Me:
What happened? How high is her fever?
Her response comes almost immediately.
Unknown:
102.8. The rash is all over her chest. I’ll update you as soon as we know more.
The phone shakes in my hand as panic grips me. My baby. My sweet, tiny Ruby. A fever this high at just six weeks old—every worst-case scenario flashes through my mind.
I press Adam’s number, my hands trembling so badly I nearly drop the phone. It rings twice before he picks up.
“Callie,” he says, his voice tight and strained.
“What’s going on?” I demand, my voice shaking.
“Katie texted you, right?” he asks quickly. “Ruby’s got a fever and a rash. It came on so fast, and it’s all over her chest. We’re on our way to the ER in Burlington.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My knees weaken, and I grip the back of a chair to steady myself. “A fever? A rash? Adam, is she?—”
“She’s okay for now,” he interrupts. “But we didn’t want to take any chances. Katie noticed the rash when we were getting her ready for bed. Her fever was 102.8. We’re doing the right thing.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. The tightness in my chest grows as I try to focus on his words. “Keep me updated,” I whisper before hanging up.
The phone slips from my hand onto the table as I fumble to call Owen. He picks up on the second ring.
“Hey, dollface?—”
“Owen,” I interrupt. “Something’s wrong with Ruby.”
“What? What’s going on?” His tone sharpens instantly, the concern obvious.
“Katie texted me,” I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. “She said Ruby has a fever and a rash, and they’re taking her to the ER in Burlington.”
“Shit,” he mutters, and I can hear him shift gears. “Okay. Are you?—”
“I can’t drive,” I say, cutting him off, my voice cracking. “I’m too upset. I need you, Owen. Can you come get me? Please?”
“I’m almost home,” he says, his words steady and certain. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Just hang tight, okay?”
I let out a shaky breath, clutching the phone tighter. “Okay… please hurry.”
The call ends, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake. I try to focus on breathing, but the thoughts won’t stop. Ruby is so little. Too little to be sick like this. My chest tightens again as I glance toward the door, waiting for Owen. My baby girl needs me, and I need him to help me get to her.
The minutes drag like hours. Each one feels slower than the last. By the time Owen’s truck pulls into the driveway, I’m already out the door, warming up the van in case we bring the girls home tonight. I drop the diaper bag into the van and run toward him.
He jumps out and hurries toward me, his eyes scanning my face. “Callie,” he says gently, his hand brushing my arm. “We’ll get to her. She’s going to be okay.”
“I don’t understand how this happened,” I say as I climb into the passenger seat, my voice trembling. “She was fine earlier. She was eating, sleeping…”
Owen pulls back onto the road, his jaw tight but his voice calm. “Babies can get sick fast. We’ll get there, and we’ll figure it out.”
I stare out the window, wringing my hands in my lap. The knot in my stomach grows tighter with each passing mile.
“Callie,” Owen says softly, glancing at me. “Look at me.”
I turn to him, my eyes already stinging with tears.
“She’s going to be okay,” he says firmly. “Ruby’s strong, and so are you.”
His words ease the panic enough for me to nod, but the fear doesn’t subside.
The drive to Burlington feels endless. The roads stretch on forever, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. Every so often, Owen reaches over to squeeze my hand, grounding me as my thoughts race.
“What if it’s something serious?” I whisper, barely able to get the words out.
“Let’s not go there yet,” he says gently but firmly. “We’ll know more when we get to the hospital. Right now, she’s with the doctors, and they’ll take care of her.”
I nod again, though the worst-case scenarios keep creeping into my mind. Ruby’s so little, too little to handle something like this.
Nearly two hours have passed since Katie’s first text by the time we pull into the ER parking lot. I’m out of the van before Owen even shuts off the engine, rushing toward the entrance. The cold air bites at my skin, but I barely notice.
Inside, the receptionist directs us to the pediatric ER. My legs feel weak as we walk down the hallway, the sound of my boots echoing with each step.
We reach the waiting room and Adam is standing near the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Katie is sitting nearby, rocking a sleepy Sara in her lap.
“Where is she?” I demand, my voice trembling as I approach Adam.
He looks up, his expression a mix of worry and guilt. “She’s with the doctor. They’re running tests.”
“What kind of tests?” I press, my heart hammering.
“Bloodwork, mostly,” Adam says, his voice strained but calm. “They think it’s a virus, but they want to rule out anything serious.”
The words make my knees weak, and I sway slightly. Owen steps closer, placing a steadying hand on my back.
“Can I see her?” I ask, barely able to get the words out.
“They’re only letting one parent in at a time,” Adam says, his gaze flicking to Owen before settling back on me. “You should go.” He motions for a nurse to come over and I follow her down the hallway.
When I step into the room, Ruby is lying in a hospital bassinet, her tiny body dwarfed by the crisp white sheets. Her face is flushed, and her chest rises and falls quickly with each shallow breath. My heart twists at the sight.
“She’s stable,” the nurse says. “The doctor will explain more shortly.”
I sit beside Ruby, brushing my hand over her tiny fingers. “Hi, sweet girl,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Mama’s here.”
Her little hand twitches, and a tear slips down my cheek.
I stay by her side, stroking her soft skin and murmuring to her as the minutes stretch on. When the doctor finally comes in, she explains that they suspect a viral infection but want to monitor her overnight to be safe.
I feel drained by the time I return to the waiting room. Owen is on his feet the moment he sees me, his hand reaching for mine.
“The doctor just left,” I say, my voice calmer than before. “She said it’s fifth disease. It sounds a lot scarier than it is.”
Owen’s brow furrows. “Fifth disease? What does that mean?”
“It’s a virus,” I explain, gripping his hand. “It’s common in kids. The fever and rash are part of it, but it’s usually not serious. She’s going to be okay.” My voice wavers as the words settle, relief washing over me.
Owen pulls me into a hug, his hand brushing gently against my back. “She’s going to be okay,” he whispers, steady and sure.
I nod against his chest, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spilling over. “She’s strong and we caught it early.”
As I lean into him, my eyes flick toward Sara, who is sound asleep on one of the couches in the corner. Her little body is curled up under her coat, her head resting on her tiny arm. My heart aches as I look at her. She should be in bed at home, not here in the middle of the night.
I straighten, wiping my face. “I told the doctor I want to take Ruby and Sara home,” I say to Owen.
Adam, who has been standing near the wall, overhears me and steps forward. “Callie, are you sure? It’s late, the snow’s coming down hard, and Katie and I can take care of them tonight. You don’t need to push yourself.”
Katie nods in agreement. “Ruby’s stable, and Sara’s already asleep. We’ve got this, Callie. You’ve been through so much tonight.”
I shake my head, my throat tightening as I fight the urge to cry again. “I appreciate everything you’ve done,” I say, glancing between them. “But I need to take my girls home. They need to be in their own beds, and I need to be with them. I’ll feel better if we’re all together.”
Adam sighs, his arms crossing over his chest. “I get that, but with the snow coming down, it might not be safe to drive.”
“I won’t push it if it feels dangerous,” I say firmly. “I’ve got Owen, and we’ll be careful. I can’t leave them here, Adam. I won’t.”
Katie’s expression softens, but Adam’s brows draw together in frustration. “It’s not about leaving them, Callie,” he says, his tone tense but measured. “It’s about doing what’s safe.”
“I am doing what’s safe,” I say, my voice shaking but resolute. “The safest thing is for them to be with their mother. I’ll take every precaution on the way home. I promise. But please, Adam, don’t fight me on this. It’s three in the morning, and they need to be home.”
Owen steps closer, his calm, steady presence grounding me. “She’s right, Adam. We’ll drive slow. I’ll make sure they’re safe.”
Adam exhales sharply, his frustration giving way to acceptance. He glances toward Sara, who stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, her little hand clutching the edge of her coat.
“Alright,” he finally says, his shoulders slumping. “But text me as soon as you get home so I know you made it.”
“I will,” I say, relief flooding through me. I turn to Katie. “Thank you for everything tonight. For watching Sara and helping with Ruby. I really appreciate it.”
Katie nods, offering me a small smile. “Of course. I’m just glad Ruby’s okay.”
I walk over to Sara, gently scooping her up from the couch. She stirs briefly, her sleepy voice murmuring, “Mama,” before she nestles against my shoulder and falls back asleep.
Once Ruby is released from the hospital and settled in her car seat, Owen lifts it carefully, making sure she’s bundled tightly in her blanket. He glances at me. “Ready?”
I nod, clutching Sara close. “Let’s go home.”
The house is quiet aside from the creak of the floorboards as I shuffle around the kitchen. My body is exhausted and my limbs are heavy as I pour myself another cup of coffee. We didn’t get home until after four in the morning and, despite every effort to rest, sleep was a fleeting luxury.
Owen didn’t have time to sleep at all before heading to work. He kissed my forehead as he left, muttering something about being fine, but the dark circles under his eyes told another story.
I glance at the couch, where Sara is sprawled out under her favorite blanket, still fast asleep. Ruby is napping in the bassinet nearby, her tiny chest rising and falling steadily. It’s a sight that should bring me peace, but my mind keeps replaying last night—Katie’s text, the frantic drive, the fear that gripped me until the doctor spoke those words: fifth disease.
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, and I set my mug down, padding over to answer it. Brooke stands on the other side, a warm smile on her face and a tray of muffins in her hands.
“Thought you could use these,” she says, stepping inside before I can even greet her.
I blink at her, my tired brain struggling to catch up. “You didn’t have to?—”
“Of course I did,” she interrupts, setting the tray on the counter and turning to give me a quick hug. “You had a hell of a night. How are you holding up?”
I sigh, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Tired. Grateful. A little overwhelmed, honestly.”
Brooke glances at Sara and Ruby, her expression softening. “They’re okay, though?”
“They’re fine,” I say. “Ruby’s fever broke before we left the hospital. Sara didn’t wake up once through the whole thing, thank God. It’s just… it was a lot.”
Brooke nods knowingly, leaning against the counter. “And Owen? Did he go to work?”
“Yeah,” I say with a small frown. “He didn’t sleep at all. I told him he should call in, but you know Owen, stubborn as ever.”
Brooke chuckles. “That sounds about right. He’s probably running on fumes.”
I nod, wrapping my hands around my coffee mug. “I just… I hate that he’s pushing himself so hard. He’s been doing everything to support us, and now this…”
“Hey,” Brooke says gently, placing a hand on my arm. “You’re not in this alone, Callie. Owen knows that. And he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t want to.”
I swallow hard, her words hitting me in a way I didn’t expect. “I know. I just… I wish I could do more to take some of the weight off him.”
Brooke squeezes my arm before letting go. “You’re doing more than enough. Trust me.” She glances toward the couch, where Sara stirs but doesn’t wake. “Speaking of doing more, why don’t you go lie down for a bit? I’ll keep an eye on the girls.”
I shake my head automatically. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already?—”
“You didn’t ask,” Brooke interrupts firmly. “I offered. Now go. Even an hour will make a difference.”
Her tone leaves no room for argument, and I find myself nodding despite my initial protest. “Okay. Just… wake me if they need anything?”
“Promise,” she says with a wink.
I head toward the bedroom, pausing to glance back at Brooke, who’s already setting up Ruby’s bottle with practiced ease. The weight pressing down on me lifts, just a little, as I watch her. Her calm confidence is a reminder that I don’t have to carry everything on my own.
As I step into the bedroom, I let myself believe—really believe—that everything is going to be okay.
The warmth of the bed envelops me and I stir, half-asleep, as the mattress dips beside me. A familiar scent fills the air as his arms slide around me, pulling me close.
I blink my eyes open, the late afternoon light filtering through the curtains. Owen’s face is inches from mine, his dark eyes heavy with fatigue.
“You’re home,” I murmur, my voice hoarse from sleep.
“Yeah,” he says. “I let Brooke head out. Figured she’d been here long enough.”
I glance toward the baby monitor on the nightstand, noting the stillness of the screen. “The girls?”
“Napping,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “It’s been quiet since I walked in.”
“Thank God,” I sigh, relaxing into his embrace. “You didn’t sleep at all, did you?”
“Not yet,” he admits, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “I wanted to check on you first.”
My heart squeezes at the rawness in his voice, the dedication he shows, even when he’s running on fumes. I press my hand to his cheek, feeling the slight scratch of stubble beneath my palm. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
His smile softens, but there’s something darker in his gaze—a weariness that runs deeper than the lack of sleep. “You’re the amazing one, Callie. You handled last night like a pro. I don’t know how you do it.”
“You were there,” I whisper. “That’s how I do it.”
Owen shifts, rolling onto his back and pulling me with him so I’m resting against his chest. His hand slides up my back, his fingers trailing slow, lazy circles over my skin.
“Have I told you how much I missed you today?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my temple.
A shiver runs through me at his tone, low and full of relief and longing.
“You’re here now,” I reply softly, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.
His eyes search mine for a moment before he leans in, capturing my lips in a kiss that starts slow and tender, like he’s savoring the moment. His hand moves to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss until it becomes more urgent, more consuming.
My hands slide over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. The exhaustion I felt just moments ago begins to fade, replaced by warmth that spreads through me as his lips move against mine.
“You sure you’re not too tired for this?” I tease, my voice breathless as I pull back.
Owen smirks, his fingers grazing the curve of my waist. “I could be dead on my feet, and I’d still have energy for you.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, soft and light, as I press my forehead against his. “I missed you too.”
“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that makes my heart race.
His lips find mine again, and the exhaustion, the chaos of the past 24 hours, fades into the background. In this moment, it’s just us tangled together, our shared strength holding everything else at bay.
His callused hands roam over me, deliciously rough against my skin. He peppers me with kisses and slips his hand below to tease the waistline of my leggings. I wish I had slept naked. His taunting is driving me wild. He takes his time, letting each touch linger and relishing in the way my body responds to him. He slips my panties to the side, sliding his fingers softly through my slit. When he uses two fingers to circle my clit, I nearly fall apart in his arms. He continues the movements as moans escape my lips.
When he slowly pulls away from me, I ache at the loss of his touch. I hear him undo his belt and I revel in the sound. I wonder if maybe someday we will play with his belt in a way I am too shy to admit that I want. The thought turns me on further as I lay on my stomach waiting for him.
The bed dips again when he crawls back onto the mattress. He grabs a pillow and slides it beneath my hips. His hand lingers there, firm and steady, sending a shiver down my spine. The rough warmth of his palm traces a slow path upward, skimming over my lower back, igniting every nerve in its wake.
I arch instinctively, feeling the weight of him settling behind me, his body molding to mine in a way that feels both possessive and reverent. His lips find the nape of my neck, brushing softly at first, then with deliberate intent, leaving a trail of heat that seems to burn into my skin.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice husky and low, vibrating against my neck. His hands roam slowly, exploring, teasing, building a tension that curls deep in my belly.
Every movement is unhurried, as though he wants to memorize the feel of me beneath him, to savor every moment, every sigh. His teeth graze the sensitive spot just below my ear, and a soft moan escapes my lips before I can stop it.
"You like that," he whispers, his words more a statement than a question. I can feel the grin in his voice, the way he knows exactly what he's doing to me. His hand slips lower, his fingers skilled and confident as he elicits sounds from me I didn’t even know I was capable of making.
My body responds to him like a song he knows by heart, every note perfectly played, every rhythm perfectly matched. Time feels suspended, the world narrowing to just the two of us, the intimacy between us so raw, so consuming, that nothing else exists.
It occurs to me that he’s never taken me like this before. Until now, my swollen belly had always been a barrier, keeping me from surrendering to him in such a vulnerable, intimate way. Now, with nothing between us, I feel exposed in the best possible sense, completely laid bare to his touch, his desire.
There’s an unspoken trust in this position, an unyielding surrender that speaks volumes more than words ever could. His hands frame my hips, grounding me, yet urging me to let go. His breath fans over my skin, warm and ragged. He’s savoring every second of this newfound closeness as much as I am.
It’s not just the act itself—it’s the raw intimacy of it, the way it feels like a new discovery, even after all this time. My body opens to him fully, willingly, a silent invitation he accepts with reverence and passion.
Holding his body over mine, I feel his thick cock press against my ass, the bead of precum brushing against my skin. When he reaches down to grip his dick, he lowers his body and slides his thick length up and down between my slit. With some pressure, he pushes into me and my body instantly clenches around him.
“Fuckkkk,” he seethes and I cannot help the smirk that takes over my face. “You’re so fucking tight, Callie.” He pushes himself fully into me and I grip the sheets. He slowly pulls out, leaving just the head of his cock inside me before he eases back into me.
At this angle, I can feel him in a way I never have before. My body aches in the most delicious way possible as I adjust to his size.
I’m sore but I beg for more.
“Are you sure, Kitty?” he asks, wanting to make sure I can actually handle what I’m asking for.
“Please,” I beg, “Please fuck me. I need more. I need all of you. I promise I’ll tell you if it’s too much. Please don’t hold back.”
He leans forward, his chest pressed against my back as he nibbles on my ear. “God, I fucking love you.”
“I love you, too. But please–”
Before I can finish my thought, he rams himself back into me, no holding back exactly like I asked. It feels even better than I imagined and he fills me so perfectly.
With his hands planted firmly on either side of my head, he fucks me mercilessly, the urge to scream taking over. I wrap my hands around his wrists, using the leverage to push myself back against him, taking him even deeper.
He leans down again and the feeling of his breath on my neck is nearly enough for me to let go completely. “I need you to be quiet for me. Take my cock like a good girl and keep your mouth shut.” I swear the demand in his tone is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
Until now, the thought of calling someone Daddy during sex had never crossed my mind, but at this moment, it feels right. The word slips from my lips before I can stop it. “Yes, Daddy,” I whisper, my voice trembling with equal parts desire and uncertainty. Heat floods my cheeks as I wait, praying the words don’t shatter the intensity between us.
I’ve called him Sir before, the title a reflection of his commanding presence, but this feels different, deeper, more intimate. The word carries an unspoken trust, a surrender that shifts the air between us, making everything feel charged. To my pleasant surprise, the change to the honorific seems to spur him on further.
His fingers tighten onto my hips, pulling me back against him with a force that sends a shiver through my entire body. “Good girl,” he growls, the praise rolling off his tongue. The intensity in his voice makes my knees weak, but his firm grip keeps me steady.
“You like that, don’t you?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. His tone is wicked, possessive. “You like giving yourself to me, letting me take you how I want. Don’t you, Kitty?”
“Yes,” I gasp, my voice barely audible. “Yes, Daddy.”
His response is immediate, a rough, satisfied chuckle that makes my pulse race. He shifts his stance, angling himself deeper, and the sensation has me biting my lip to keep from crying out. “That’s my girl,” he says, his words as much a claim as they are a praise. “Now, be still for me. I’m going to make sure you feel exactly how much I want you.”
His pace slows, each thrust deliberate, purposeful, designed to draw out every ounce of pleasure and anticipation. I can’t help the way my body responds, arching into him, seeking more even as I try to obey his command to be still. He notices, of course, his grip shifting to pin me firmly in place.
“You’re mine,” he says, the declaration raw and possessive, his voice thick with lust. “Every inch of you,” thrust, “is,” thrust, “MINE.”
The intensity of his words steals what little composure I have left, and I surrender completely, giving him everything he demands of me. Every gasp, every moan, every tremble of my body–it’s all his. He moves with an unrelenting rhythm, pushing me closer and closer to the edge, and I give the last piece of myself to him.