Chapter 9
Chapter Nin e
Scott
F ocused on the measured rise and fall of her chest, each breath is delicate and feminine. It’s a reminder that life is fragile. I’ve left the door cracked, and the dim light from the corridor filters inside the sterile hospital room, streaking over her pink cast.
She looks weak and small, so different from her hell on wheels, take no prisoners personality—yet still like my angel.
I take out the journal, leafing through to the middle, and write her a love letter.
Wynter,
I’ve been scared plenty of times in my life.
When Jess and Mav made us jump out of the plane before last year’s 5K run in honor of Mark.
When we camped at the gorge, and the coyotes howled all night.
When you stole my paper in our high school creative writing class may have been the scariest. I s at at my desk, holding my breath, trying to act casual, but my heart raced with impending doom. It was just another paper to you, but to me, it held a secret—one I wasn’t ready to share. I didn’t mention you by name, hiding behind metaphors and speaking in generalities, but you and our friends would have untangled the truth.
If you would have read it, it might have been the end of our friends with benefits arrangement. You would have run as fast as you could in the other direction. We never talked about it but when you remember, I’d like to.
But you being in the hospital, unable to remember me, has been the most nerve-wracking experience of my life. Each section of my heart fights for dominance.
Hope.
Fear.
Love.
Sadness.
Even if you never remember me, know that I will always love you.
Scott
Closing the journal, I stick the pen in the loop and let quiet memories play in my head.
Wynter is resting well, as Nancy peeks in and gives me a thumbs up, giving me a glimmer of hope. They said the more rest she gets undisturbed, the faster her concussion will heal.
I take her small palm in my hands and kiss it. “I love you, babe,” I mumble. Laying my head on our hands, I pray for her health, our baby’s health, and for her memory to return.
My eyes are so tired, and my brain is utterly drained. Before I realize it, I’ve dozed off to sleep for hours right by her side, where I was always meant to be.
Mild activity and the first steaks of daylight stream through the blinds. The nurse changes her IV bag, and Wynter eventually moves her head from left to right, waking up.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” I say as her eyes open.
A sweet, appreciative smile glides across her face, but then a little line appears between the bridge of her nose. It’s obvious she’s confused as to why I would say that. It seems out of line since she thinks she’s married to Drake and not me. Honestly, I don’t know how much longer I can hold that in. If she doesn’t remember, I’m going on my own to help her remember.
What if she doesn’t ever remember? I pull my lips into my mouth, considering the possibility. What would Wynter do?
She would say, “I love you, baby. I’m your wife, and you fucking love me.” But I’ve always followed doctors’ orders because I know what happens when you don’t.
“Hey,” she responds weakly.
I let go of her hand to grab a cup of water, then raise her bed so she can drink it.
“Where’s Drake? He told me he would be here for the obstetrician visit.”
It takes every bit of self-control I have not to tell her that he’s just a friend. Instead, I say, “He should be here soon. He just got off work.”
She lifts her chin, accepting the answer.
“I brought you something.”
“You did?”
Picking up the journal, I hand it to her.
“I thought you could write down your feelings or memories; maybe it would help you tie them together.”
She reaches down to scratch under her cast and yelps. “Damn, everything inside me hurts, and it sucks not being able reach the spot that itches.”
“I’m sure the nurse can give you more pain medication.”
“I’ll tough it out until after the doctor comes. I want to be clear headed. I’m growing a baby, you know?”
“I do. How do you feel about being pregnant?”
“Honestly, I’m sad that I don’t remember getting pregnant.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and I catch a glimpse of my strong-willed, funny wife. “I’m frustrated that I can’t remember hearing her first heartbeat or seeing that first ultrasound. But overall, I was meant to have this baby. I feel like a nurturer. Am I?”
I laugh again. Damn, it feels so good to laugh. “It wouldn’t be the first adjective I would use to describe you, but you are the most loving person I’ve ever known.”
“Loving seems the same as nurturing.”
“You are just … you. Do you like the journal?”
“I love it. It’s beautiful. I love the colors, green and purple. I’ll write in it when I get a moment alone.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Stay until Drake gets here.”
Fuck that. I’m this baby’s father, and I’ll be in here with her even if Drake is as well.
The nurse asks me to leave for a moment so she can give Wynter a sponge bath. I want to say I’ll do it, but that would shock Wynter. But maybe it would help her remember since I washed her in the shower the day of her accident.
Fortunately, I see Dr. Laura Breadwell at the nurse’s desk. When she finishes giving directions for another patient, she turns to me, and her smile slips. “Scott, I’m sorry this is happening to you and Wynter.”
I stuff my hands in my sweatpants pockets and tighten my jaw. “We’ll get through it.”
“That’s the attitude to have because you will. But there’s a fine line for Wynter. She may want privacy and not want you in there since she doesn’t know you’re her husband. If she wants you to leave, I’ll have to follow her request. But I’ll inform you of everything.”
“Got it. I have no control over anything right now.”
She gives me a commiserating smile. “I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you in the room.”
“Thanks, Laura.”
Laura Breadwell went to school with us. She always had her nose stuck in a book. She was popular with her crowd and was always voted on homecoming courts but never won. When we got pregnant, Wynter insisted that we give her our baby business, convinced that someone who knew us would take better care of the baby. Well, now I’m certain it was divine intervention. Laura Breadwell was placed in our life for this moment—to help me navigate the situation.
She taps on the door to Wynter’s room. “Are you finished bathing?”
Nurse N ancy says, “Come in. We’re finished.”
I wait to see if Wynter recognizes Laura, but there’s no hint of recognition.
“You had quite a bad fall. How are you doing?” Laura asks as she sits on the rotating stool.
“I’m alive and in all kinds of pain.”
“Yeah, she didn’t want any pain medication until we saw you today,” I chime in.
The doctor swivels to the nurse. “Go ahead and give her medication. It won’t kick in until we’re finished. The last thing the baby needs is for her mama to be in pain and even more uncomfortable.”
Nurse Nancy scurries out while Laura checks her vitals by hand, even though the machines are doing it also. She lifts her gown, revealing her hard, round belly that is bruised on one side. I suck in a gasp at the discoloration. Placing the stethoscope on Wynter’s belly, she listens.
“Okay, I know you’re nervous. Do you remember anything about our previous visits?”
Wynter shakes her head no, and a tear slips from the corner of her eye, rolls over her temple, and onto the pillow.
“It’s okay. Let’s make new memories.”
At that moment, a different nurse comes in with the ultrasound machine and some tablets. Wynter knocks back the medicine while the doctor prepares the machine.
“Lie her back just a little.”
I push the button until she tells me to stop. She squeezes the liquid goo onto Wynter’s belly, and I watch Wynter’s expression, looking on like it’s her first time. The doctor takes the wand, and the machine gulps and bubbles as the sounds of the amniotic fluid that protects the baby sloshes around.
Wynter’s eyes light up as she sees the form for the first time. “Is that her? Is that my baby girl?”
I’m relieved that Wynter has the same excitement for us having a baby that she did when we first found out. One good thing is to see the wonder in her eyes all over again.
“Here’s the heartbeat.”
I rub the hair off her face and say, “Strong like her mama.”
She tilts her head, looking at me with the biggest grin. “She is.”
Dr. Breadwell says, “I’m taking some measurements to let you know approximately how much the baby weighs and how long she is.”
I squeeze her hand.
“I can’t believe Drake is missing this.”
Laura and I exchange a quick glance and at that point, Drake rushes in. “Sorry I’m late,” he says with a Starbucks in his hand. I roll my eyes. He’s never gotten on my nerves before, but Wynter is mine, and it fucking sucks that I have to pretend.
Wynter shocks me when she throws him shade. “Our baby should be your priority, not stopping at Starbucks.” He opens his mouth but shuts it when she continues, “Just because E-town has a Starbucks doesn’t mean you should stop when I’m in the hospital.”
“Sorry. I thought it would help my nerves.”
She furls her lips into a frown. “Caffeine doesn’t help nerves. It makes you more jittery. Now come see our precious little bundle of joy.” She sticks her hand out, gesturing with her fingers. When he takes her hand, I have to step behind them.
Dr. La ura sneaks a glance and nods, recognizing how hard this is for me. Everyone in Kissing Springs knew how much I loved Wynter, except for Wynter, so when we admitted our feelings, every single person we came in contact with said, “We knew it.”
“The baby is about the size of a mango and about the length of a banana. Let’s look at her from all sides. Have you felt her kick since you’ve been awake?”
“No.”
“The baby was kicking two days ago before the accident,” I add.
The doctor presses her stomach, waking the baby up. “Let’s see if you’ll kick for your mama.” It takes a few minutes, but baby girl stretches on the screen, then uses her feet to find a comfortable position.
“I feel it. I feel it,” Wynter shouts. “This is so weird and beautiful at the same time. I’m growing a baby. I don’t think I’ve ever grown anything… have I?”
None of us say a word until I ask, “Can I feel it?”
Wynter looks at Drake for permission, and he shakes his head.
“Yeah, but Drake should feel her first. It is his baby. God, I hope she has my nose.”
Drake chokes on his laugh. “Hey, I broke it playing football with this ass.” He points to me.
I shoot him a sharp, disapproving glare when he puts his hand where Wynter positions it. Evidently, the baby kicks, and Drake withdraws his hand, almost in disgust or surprise.
“Damn, Drake, you’re supposed to love me and this baby girl.”
“Wynter, I do love you and our baby.”
Stunned, I’m not sur e if I heard him correctly. Did he just tell her he loved her and their baby? A million emotions flit inside my head and heart. And I have to figure out what happened before she gets too close to Drake.
I take out my phone and message Beau and Major.
Me: Are either of you here? I need someone to find Wynter’s car at the gorge, her phone, and purse.
Major: I’m here. Beau and Vanessa are waiting on Beckett to stay with the kids.
Me: I’ll be out in a minute with an extra set of keys.
He gives me a thumbs up.
Next on my list is to find the camera. Maybe it’s in the ambulance, so I text Heath.
Me: Is Wynter’s camera in the ambulance? It was around her neck at the gorge, and I took it off but don’t remember what I did with it.
Heath: It’s with me at the fire station. Are you at the hospital?
Me: Nowhere else I would be.
Heath: I’ll bring it over asap. How’s she doing?
Me: Awake. No memory of me.
Heath: Damn, I’m sorry, but head traumas heal. On my way.
“Scott, I thought you wanted to feel the baby.”