Chapter 7
—Reed—
A deep sense of guilt pinned me in place after I disconnected from Mom, having agreed to meet her at the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. I couldn’t leave Kasey. She needed me here.
Eric’s hand clamped on my shoulder. “Simone and I will wait for her, Reed. I promise to call you as soon as we have an update. Besides, I’m sure it’ll be a while before she’s out yet.”
“But—” I started to protest, so damn torn between my girl and the baby. Was the baby even mine? Fuck, I had so many questions and absolutely zero answers.
“Go,” Eric urged, his eyes locking with mine. “I got this here. At least see your mom and get an update. You have to settle it in your mind,” he added, sensing my question over paternity.
Kase wasn’t one to fool around, I was sure of it. But trickles of doubt wove deeper as I numbly put one foot in front of the other and left the ICU behind.
Apprehension had me fearing what I’d encounter as I started up the stairs to the maternity and neonatal wards. Would instincts tell me that the baby was mine? Or would I remain emotionally detached and disconnected for self-preservation’s sake?
By the time I reached the neonatal ICU, I’d made up my mind: I was set on a paternity test before opening my heart, right up until the instant Mom rushed toward me with tears in her eyes.
“Reed, why didn’t you tell me Kasey was expecting?”
“Mom,” I said on a sigh. “Please don’t become attached. I had no idea she was pregnant and the chances of it being mine are—”
Offense cut through Mom’s expression, as barbed as her tone. “Extremely high. She looks so much like you did as a baby.”
I spluttered, completely taken aback as unexpected feelings punched me square in the gut. “She?”
Mom’s eyes watered and she nodded. “A girl.”
Swallowing around the constriction in my throat got harder. I took a second to fight for composure and welcomed Mom’s arms wrapping around me in a tight embrace.
“Is the baby okay?” I managed to ask without a voice crack. Just.
Mom pulled away but held my forearms. Minor details I’d overlooked for years stood out: her light blue scrubs crisply ironed just like they had been for years, and her name badge perfectly aligned with the top of her left breast pocket.
Worry showed on her face despite her forcing a small smile. “We have her stabilized but on CPAP for extra oxygen. She’s in an incubator to help regulate her temperature and—”
“Mom,” I interrupted. Mom’s caring eyes found mine. “How many months pregnant was she?”
A beat of time passed where I desperately wanted the answer, but also feared the hell out of it.
“Judging by fetal development, we believe the baby is around thirty-four weeks gestation,” Mom surmised. “Almost full-term.”
“Christ.” I gulped and worked the information around my head. “Did the car crash damage her?”
“As far as we can tell, no.”
Relief swept through me, deflating my chest with a hard, audible rush of expelled air. I closed my eyes, taking a moment, and ran my fingers through my hair.
“Jesus,” I whispered, unable to get my head around how quickly my day had changed in the most unpredictable way.
Mom’s hand landed on my bent elbow. “Do you want to see her?”
My eyes met the most caring pair in the world. Without conscious thought, I nodded.
“If I’m allowed to…”
“You’re the father, so you are allowed to visit her anytime, day or night.”
My boots remained rooted to the spot, and Mom turned expectantly when she realized I wasn’t following her.
Her frown pulled low. “Reed, c’mon, hon.”
The sharp lump in my throat re-wedged itself. “Mom…”
She doubled back and stood before me, craning her neck slightly to give me her undivided attention.
“What if she’s not mine?” I whispered, grimacing against the bitter, jagged words.
Mom didn’t blink. “And what if she is?”
The softness in her voice pushed the threatening emotion further into the corners of my eyes. I ducked my head against the welling moisture and dashed a finger left and right to rid the rogue droplets before they escaped.
Once I nodded again, Mom kissed my cheek and squeezed my hand in reassurance.
“As far as family resemblance goes, she’s definitely a Gatlin. Now—” she pointed to the wash basin at the entrance to the neonatal intensive care unit entrance. ”—wash your hands and forearms with soap. This is essential when entering the unit; it stops our babies from picking up nasty germs.”
I diligently scrubbed my hands and arms, washing them long enough to be considered thorough as well as stalling for time. Mom patiently waited, then smiled when I finally dried off and turned. My eyes bounced around the clear acrylic capsules lined along the wall, each with cords running to monitors constantly taking stats.
“Which one is she?” I asked so quietly I wasn’t sure if Mom heard until she took my arm.
“She’s right over here…”
Heart pounding in my throat, I put one boot in front of the other and followed. I expected to feel indifferent upon seeing the baby in incubator four. Not my pulse skipping a beat and my heart declaring love at first sight. Immediately and without warning, the overwhelming urge to serve brought tears to my eyes. I knew in the depths of my soul that this baby was mine.
I looked from her to Mom and caught her smile through my watery vision.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Mom whispered, dashing her own eyes dry. “She’s so much like your sister was too.”
That comment cut deep. I’d never met my older sister. She’d passed in utero before my second brother was born.
“Can I touch her?”
“Only through here.” Mom opened a clear door on the side of the incubator—the perfect size to fit my hand through. “You can touch her, but we won’t be removing her for skin-to-skin contact yet. We need to monitor her closely over the next while to ensure she remains stable.”
My heart raced as I slowly reached my hand into the temperature-controlled incubator. I held my breath as I ran the tip of my forefinger across the baby’s soft, relaxed palm, then released it in a shuddering sob when her tiny fingers flexed around my finger.
“Ooh, she’s got you,” Mom said with an emotion-thick chuckle.
As of that instant, she had me in more ways than one.
“She’s mine,” came my whispered declaration. “Mine and Kasey’s.”
Pride then swelled. I couldn’t wait for my girl to wake up so I could share this incredible experience with her.
Guilt then returned with crushing force. My girl was still in surgery for god knows how long. I had no idea if she would even make it. Vexation burned deep in my chest. It rose without warning, forcing me to abruptly turn away from the incubator.
I heard the flap clip close before Mom arrived in my peripheral vision. “I know it’s a lot to take in, hon.”
Dejection speared directly through my heart. “How could she keep this from me?”
I fucking loved Kase, but among the whirlwind of conflicting emotions, deep down, I was so fucking hurt that I hadn’t known about her pregnancy.
“Did she even know?” Mom asked gently.
“Great question. Simone didn’t.”
I caught the surprise flash across Mom’s face. She knew how close Simone and Kasey were, and she’d claimed Kasey as a part of our family long before Kase and I called our relationship official.
“She really is a blessing, then.”
Mom’s whisper turned me back to the baby.
I studied her little button nose and couldn’t help the smile that tugged my mouth. She was so delicate, yet had already proven herself to be strong against the odds. It was a miracle she’d survived the crash.
“Are you sure she’s okay?” I asked, unable to stop the worry from niggling.
Mom gazed through the clear acrylic and smiled. “She’s a trooper. A true Gatlin. While we’re monitoring her closely, I’m confident she’s going to be just fine. Perfect, in fact.”
“Let’s hope we can say the same for her mom.”
Feeling my knees give a little, I sat heavily into the chair strategically positioned within the baby’s monitoring area. My fingers threaded through my hair as I dropped my head into my hands, and I stared at the speckled blue linoleum floor while trying to sort through my racing thoughts. Each came and went like a lightning strike, jumping from one to the next then back again without answers.
I ran my hand through my hair again and exhaled deeply. Christ. What was this life all of a sudden?
The monitor beeping loudly cut through my rushing thoughts. I was on my feet and at the incubator in a flash, pressing my palms to it, fearing the worst—something was happening to my baby.
“Mom, what’s going on?”
“I need you to leave, hon. We need the space to work for the moment.”
Nurses gathered hurriedly, their urgent movements forcing me back a few paces. With my heart in my throat, I stood on the outskirts, numb and frozen to the spot while the team of four tended to her with desperate yet calm movements. For the second time today, it felt like my heart was about to burst from my chest and beat its last spasm on the floor in front of me. The pain rivaled pulling up to the crash site.
I jumped when a hand landed on my shoulder. “Reed, I need you to step outside for a moment while we get her stabilized,” a woman said through the controlled chaos.
“No.”
My feeble attempt to shrug away only increased her grip. “You must,” she urged, stepping between me and the incubator.
“Mom!” I yelled. “Mom, what’s happening?”
Mom’s gaze briefly found mine and issued an immediate warning as sharp as her tongue. “Out, Reed.”
The little but surprisingly forceful nurse ushered me back another few paces, not letting me dodge past her.
“Mom! Seriously, what’s—”
“Out!” she bellowed in the tone that always came when we’d pushed her too far.
“Fuck,” I hissed, finally relenting.
With nausea pitching violently in my stomach, I stumbled from the neonatal ICU. Each breath punched in and out of my lungs as if I’d sprinted a marathon, and my head spun. Unable to stop myself growing woozy on my feet, I ignored my phone demanding attention in my pocket and allowed the nurse to guide me to a seat. It bore the brunt of my weight as I collapsed into it. I gripped the armrests as I fought for each breath. In and out. In and out. Squeezing my eyes closed and trying to stop my world from crashing down further.
When my phone came to life again, I tore it from my pocket with desperation to silence it and hurled it at the opposite wall. The resounding silence that came as the screen smashed and turned blank stopped my jaw ticking but didn’t settle my breath punching in and out my flared nostrils.
The nurse with caring eyes appeared in front of me with a plastic cup of water. “She’s in the best hands on the ward, Reed. Your mom will see her right. Here, take a sip.”
I reluctantly accepted it into my shaking grasp. “I’m worried. The baby is in there, and Kasey is—”
Emotion got the better of me, and I fucking broke. An ugly sob rose from the depths of my chest without warning. I ducked my head and squeezed my eyes closed as hard as I could as I fought to get a grip, but the harder I tried, the more the surge intensified. Water sloshed onto my uniform pants as I sobbed silently, losing it further when a warm hand landed on my wrist in an attempt to soothe.
Fire filled my chest and shuddering inhalations claimed my lungs as thick as the tears unashamedly rolled down my face.
“They’re going to be okay,” came the nurse’s reassurance.
Desolation sank deeper. I held an innate sense to help people, but I couldn’t even help the two that needed it the most. I slowly shook my head as another sob bubbled free. The cup precariously poised between my fingertips fell to the floor and split, but the nurse ignored it and hauled me into her embrace.
I buried my head into her shoulder. In my greatest moment of need, I clung to the offered lifeline and held tight while riding each wave of despair. When I finally caught my breath, I took a moment to embrace her out of gratitude instead of desperation.
“Thank you,” I whispered, voice hoarse and gritty like I hadn’t spoken for decades.
She pulled away and rubbed my upper back. “I’m just doing my job, just like you do yours.”
Tears threatened my eyes again. I couldn’t shake the perception that I’d failed my ultimate job—to protect those I loved. Especially those I loved with my entire being.
The nurse offered tissues, and I’d barely dabbed my eyes dry when running footsteps echoed down the corridor. Eric arrived mere seconds later, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, and to be honest, looking a little pissed. I was on my feet in an instant.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” he puffed.
His next uttered words tilted my world further and had me running from the neonatal ICU.
“She’s out.”