Chapter Forty-four
Lucas
My back is killing me from sleeping on the couch in Regan’s hospital room for two nights in a row. Not to mention how sleep deprived I am from waking every few hours to go be with Mitchell so Regan can get a full night’s sleep.
This morning, knowing Dad is with him, I let myself linger in bed—or on couch, as it may be—and watch a sleeping Regan. She looks peaceful despite our situation. She has this quiet little snore/snort that occasionally wakes me. Has she always done it, I wonder? Only once have I slept in bed with her all night. A fact that is becoming more painful the longer I have these feelings.
Her eyes open and she stares at me sleepily. I’m ten feet away, but I might as well be right next to her with how she’s looking at me. I see the appreciation in her eyes for all that I’ve done. But what she doesn’t realize is that she’s the one who did everything. She did all the hard stuff. Going through morning sickness, monitoring her weight and blood pressure, making sure she was eating all the right things. Giving birth.
“You’re my goddamn hero,” I say. “I hope you know that.”
She smiles lazily. “I like waking up to your smile. It lets me know everything is okay.”
I sit up. “Everything is okay. My dad came around four this morning.”
Her arms stretch above her head as she yawns. “Your parents have been amazing.”
“I told you, the Montanas do anything for family.”
Her gaze falls to the floor. She’s suddenly sad. I bet she’s wishing she had a better relationship with her parents.
“Do you know if Mitchell had another spell last night?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“Good.” She sits up, puts on her slippers and robe, and heads to the bathroom.
I take the opportunity to run down the hall and get her some crappy hospital coffee since the breakfast I ordered won’t be here for a few hours.
“Thanks,” she says, taking the cup from me when I return. She sits morosely on the couch, moving aside the blanket I was sleeping under. “I was just thinking, they’re going to kick me out today. I’ll be ten minutes away.” A tear rolls down her cheek. “I know he’s okay without us here twenty-four seven. And I know we’ll be here a lot. But when I envisioned going home from the hospital, it was a whole lot different.”
I sit next to her and let her cry on my shoulder. I hate that she’s crying. But I love that she’s leaning on me in her time of need.
“What if something happens and I’m not here?” She sniffs and snivels. “What if he—” She full-on sobs into my chest.
I take the coffee from her and set it on the floor. “Hey. He’s not going to. You heard the nurses yesterday. He’s doing very well despite his spells. He may never even have another one. His nervous system is maturing more and more every day.”
My shirt is soaked from her tears. Damn, I wish there was more I could do.
I brush a hair off her forehead. “You know what? If you want to stay, I’m sure we can arrange something. The hospital must have an empty room somewhere. I’ll pay whatever it takes if that’ll make you feel better.”
“I can’t let you do that.” She pulls away and wipes her face. “I’m just being hormonal. I’ll only be a few minutes away. I just hate the idea of leaving this place without him.”
I nod. “I know. Do you… do you want me to come sleep on your couch or something?”
Her head shakes. “Ryder is still there. He can take care of me.”
Her words are like a vise around my heart. I want to be the one there. I want to be the one taking care of her.
“As long as they have both of us on speed dial,” she says.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
“Are you ready to go see him? Or do you want a shower first.”
“I want to see him. If your dad has been there since four, he needs to go home.”
Within a few minutes, we’re entering the NICU. Faces of the other parents, all familiar by now, look up in greeting. Not happy greetings. None of us are delighted to be here. It’s more of an acknowledgement of presence. We’re all part of a club nobody wants to join.
Yesterday, Sam and I had a long talk about becoming dads. He has a long, long road ahead of him, though. His daughter, Gemma, affectionately known as Tiny Tornado, has all kinds of health issues. I feel for him. And it’s hard not to feel fortunate that my kid is only experiencing spells. Sometimes I catch him looking at us with envy. Just as I look at them with a broken fucking heart. Because I can’t imagine how it would feel if Mitchell had even a fraction of the things his daughter does. Low blood pressure, infection, intraventricular hemorrhage, and a slew of other conditions I can’t recall.
It’s kind of wild to even think for a second that I feel lucky with my four-pound-fifteen-ounce son who occasionally stops breathing. But in here, it’s hard not to.
“You’ve got yourself one hell of a kid,” Dad says, letting Christa take Mitchell and pass him off to Regan.
“You’re just in time,” Christa says. “We’re going to try feeding him with a bottle this morning.”
“A bottle?” Regan looks up. “Why not my breast?”
“Nursing is very taxing on the little ones. The high-flow bottles will let us know how ready he is. If he does well over the next day or two, we’ll transition him to your breast. Don’t worry, he’ll still be getting your breast milk. Just don’t forget to pump every three or four hours. And supplementing with the bottle while he’s here and you’re at home will be necessary as these little ones need to eat every two hours.”
Regan sighs. I know she’s still thinking about how much she wants to be here. But, man, every two hours? I’m kind of glad she won’t be. She needs her sleep.
Christa hands Regan a very small bottle with a tiny nipple. There’s hardly any milk in it.
“That’s all he’s going to get?” I ask.
“At this age, he’ll take about twelve to fifteen ounces per day. Because he’ll be fed every two hours, he doesn’t need very much at each feeding. But what he does get is full of nutrients since it’s Regan’s colostrum.”
“What if he chokes on it?” Regan asks.
“I’m right here,” Christa says. “I think he’s going to do just fine.”
Dad quietly slips out, wanting us to have this moment together. I nod my thanks.
When Regan carefully touches the nipple to Mitchell’s tiny lips, he immediately turns away.
“It’s okay,” Christa says. “Try again. Preemies have all kinds of unpleasant things going in their mouths. It won’t take him long to figure out this is the good stuff. Try putting it on his cheek first. Babies have a rooting instinct.”
She gently rubs the nipple on his cheek. He does turn and take it in his mouth, but I don’t see him suck.
“I don’t think it’s going to work,” Regan says, sadly.
Christa touches her shoulder. “Give him a minute.”
Mitchell looks like he’s going to fall right back to sleep with the nipple still in his mouth. But then… then his mouth moves, and I can see him sucking. My eyes instantly go to Regan’s face. She’s beaming. Happy tears pool in her eyes as she watches our son take his very first bottle.
“He’s doing it!” She looks up and catches my eye.
“He’s a natural,” I say. “So are you.”
“Do you want to do half?”
I shake my head. “I’ll do the next one. This is all you.”
I stand and lean against the wall next to his incubator, watching the interaction between my son and his mother. Every once in a while, his eyes open and he looks directly at her. As soon as they close, she looks up at me. And there’s so much love there. She loves him as fiercely as I do. Perhaps even more, if that’s possible.
Christa steps next to me and whispers, “Looks like the news story left out two vital pieces of information.”
I tilt my head, waiting for more.
“She loves you. She loves you, too.”
My eyes blaze with amusement. “You’re insane.”
“Oh, come on, Lucas. With the way she looks at you? That woman is head over heels in love with you.”
Regan looks up to catch us talking. “Am I doing it wrong?” she asks Christa.
“No, ma’am. You’re doing everything exactly right.”
Christa shoots me a playful look and walks away.
~ ~ ~
Damn. I didn’t think it would hurt this much. Like physically hurt like a punch to the gut. But here I am, dropping Regan off at her place. Helping Ryder carry up all the cards, flowers, teddy bears, and other shit from the hospital.
But the one thing I’m not helping carry up her stairs is the only thing that matters. Our son.
He’s only a few minutes away, but he might as well be halfway across the country. It still hurts like hell. I should have insisted we stay. But we have no idea how long he’ll be there. Hopefully it’s just a week. Maybe two. But realistically, it could be longer.
“I have a little surprise for you,” Ryder says as we approach the top of the stairs.
“You didn’t put the nursery together, did you?” Regan asks. “Because I don’t want to. Not until we’re sure he’s coming home.”
I nudge her arm and look right into her eyes. “He’s coming home, okay? He will. He just needs more time.”
She nods.
“It’s not the nursery. Besides, with Mitchell coming early, I’m still living here, so there’s nowhere to set it up. I promise to be out of your hair by the time he comes home.”
“Where will you go?” Regan asks. “It’s not like you have a ton of money lying around.”
“We’ll figure it out.” He kisses her head. It’s something I’ve never seen him do. I’m pleased they finally have the relationship I’ve always had with my siblings. “The only thing you need to worry about is that amazing kid of yours.” He stops at the door handle. “You do not need to worry about what’s on the other side of this door, okay? I mean it.”
“Ryder,” she scolds. “What did you do?”
He opens the door and Regan walks through first. “Mom? Dad?”
Ryder raises a brow at me as I try not to shrink back into the fourteen-year-old kid who got caught with my pants down.
I shake my head, glaring at Ryder. “A little fucking warning would have been nice.”
“Baby, why didn’t you tell us?” her mom cries, crossing the room.
The three of them hug and cry together for minutes. It’s family time. I should leave.
I turn to slip out quietly, when her dad, Darrin, corners me with his booming voice. “Lucas Montana.”
Suddenly, I am that kid again.
“Sir, I can—”
His arm extends as he approaches me, his hand out in a kind gesture. I shake it, confused.
“Ryder told me everything. Especially how much you’ve taken care of our baby girl. It may not be exactly what we envisioned for her, but any man who’s gone through what you have for her can’t be all bad.”
“Thank you, sir. I just want the best for her and Mitchell.”
“I know you do.”
“I’m going to leave and let you all catch up.”
“Don’t be a stranger. And, son, let’s go grab a drink soon. Just the two of us.”
Regan is standing behind him, her dumbfounded reaction mirroring mine.
“I’d like that, sir.”
“It’s Darrin.”
“Okay, Darrin. Thank you.”
I look behind him. “I’ll be going back to the hospital in a few hours. Want me to pick you up?”
Joyce, her mom, puts an arm around her. “We’ll get her there. We can’t wait to meet our grandchild.”
Sadness overcomes me. Immense, indomitable sadness. Because now, not only is Ryder here for her, her parents are as well. And as happy as I am for her that she has more support, I’m devastated that I’m not the one getting to provide it.
I nod. “I guess I’ll see you all there.”
Regan’s mouth tugs into a faint smile, but the melancholy on her pale face tells me she’s feeling exactly the same way I am—that we’d rather be somewhere else. With someone else.
I give a wave of my hand. Then I leave.
~ ~ ~
Home doesn’t feel the same anymore. I’ve only been here once since Mitchell arrived, and I won’t be here long now, but it’s so much different than it ever was.
It’s larger somehow. And a whole lot emptier. Despite the changes I’ve made over the past few months, it still doesn’t feel right. Without her. Without him.
I sit on the couch feeling miserable. Regan and Mitchell should be here. Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of my pathetic life?
Then Christa’s words echo through my head. “She loves you. She loves you, too.”
It couldn’t be true, could it? I mean, it’s crazy to think someone like her would fall for a fool like me. One with my history. Someone who should never be trusted with the long-term wellbeing of another’s heart.
Is it possible that over the past seven months we’ve fallen for each other? That perhaps we’re both feeling the same way but have each concluded it’s a bad path to travel?
But damn… it’s a journey I want to take. And it’s not about Mitchell. Baby or no baby, in some way, it’s always been Regan.
Is that why I never followed through with any of my other relationships?
Holy shit. Did I just shrink myself?
But if she is the one , how could I ever get anyone, her included, to believe it? There’s not a person in this town who thinks I’ll ever cross that finish line. No one but me. I’ve never been so goddamn confident that I could. That I will.
Then again, Christa could be wrong. All these ways she claims Regan has been looking at me could just be hormones. Or the situation we’re in. Or the result of me taking care of her. Hell, it could just be gratitude for all I know.
I stand up and cross the room, open a bottle of tequila, and down a shot, hoping it will drown out all this tangled confusion inside my head.
A noise behind me has me turning. Dallas is standing in my entryway.
He shakes his head. “You didn’t hear me knock?”
“Sorry if I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment.”
He eyes the empty glass in my hand. “Brother, I’m about to school you the same way you did me. If you don’t tell her you love her, you’re a fucking idiot.”
I laugh sadly. “I think we have a little too much going on at the moment. Not to mention I don’t want to fuck things up.”
“If you think this little situation of yours isn’t already fucked up, you’re not as smart as I thought you were. Lucas, man the hell up and tell her. What if something happens to Mitchell? She’s going to need you more than ever. On the flip side, what if something doesn’t happen and he gets released tomorrow? What if the two of them go back to living in her little apartment over her little shop, and you become the part-time dad who has to watch from the sidelines?
“Or… what if you tell her how you really feel and you get everything you’ve ever wanted since you were fourteen fucking years old?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You knew? All that time you knew, and you never said anything?”
“Brother, everyone knew you had a boner for Regan. Then and now.”
“She didn’t. Neither did Ryder. Not back then.” I snort and jerk my wrist. “Her dad definitely did.”
A sour look crosses his face. “I’m sure I don’t want to know what you mean by that.”
“No.” I laugh. “You don’t.” I thumb to the back. “Listen, I have to shower and grab a bite to eat and then get back to the hospital.”
“Hey, before you get back to dad life, do you have any idea why Allie is acting so goddamn strange?”
“She is, isn’t she? And no. Maybe that Asher guy dumped her.”
“Not according to Marti. They’re seeing each other at least every other month. Texting a lot too.”
“Is there something there?”
He shrugs. “Nothing she’ll admit. But you know Allie, she’s never been one for relationships. Not since that guy Jason way back when. Anyway, is there anything I can do for you? Here or at work? You know you don’t have to worry about work, right? We’ve got you covered as long as you need.”
“I know. Thanks. And all I need is to get back to my son and—”
“And Regan.” He snorts, clearly amused by his masterful observation skills, and heads for the door. “See ya soon, brother.”
I stare at the tequila bottle, contemplating another shot. But if I take one, I won’t be clear. And believe me, the first time I feed my son, I want to remember every goddamn second. Every suckle of his lips. Every tiny movement of his body. Every look from his mother, who will most definitely be watching.
I set down the bottle and stride to the bathroom. Fuck eating. I just need to get back there. Because I can’t wait. I can’t wait for the rest of my life to start. And I vow right here and now that some way, somehow, I’m going to make it be with them .