Chapter 30
THIRTY
ARCHER
We were in the engine, headed back to the station from a call, when dispatch came over the radio.
“Dispatch to Engine two.” Arnold’s voice crackled.
“Engine two,” Ralph responded.
“Engine two, I need you to head to the intersection of Elm and Maple for a car crash. No fatalities, but paramedics have already transported one of the vehicle operators to the hospital. Another ambulance is on scene for the male involved.”
“Received. En route now,” Ralph radioed, then turned us around and headed south towards the accident.
I sat up straighter in my seat, but was otherwise calm. There was no mention of an active fire, which meant it wasn’t a hot call for us, it was more precautionary than anything else. Still, Ralph flipped on the sirens and hurtled the engine down the streets, quickly closing in on our destination.
The flashing lights of the ambulance and police cruisers came into view first. The fluorescent yellow jacket of an officer directing traffic, second. And third?
Third was the mangled scrap of a red Jetta that would’ve been unrecognizable if I didn’t spend so much time inside of it.
Darcy.
The thundering in my ears had to be something else because my heart had left my body. It was as if my lungs were trying to breathe through a vice-like grip that wouldn’t let them expand, and I was suffocating.
Flashbacks of a different car, a different wreck, a different woman, flashed through my mind, and the panic seized me.
The blood. The quiet after the ear-splitting crunch of metal into metal.
The smell of burning rubber, and gasoline.
I was seven all over again. Except this time, I wasn’t helpless.
I didn’t have to stay in the backseat of a car while the life slowly left my mother’s eyes. I could do something.
Ralph hadn’t even brought the engine to a complete stop when I was bolting out of it.
I could hear my crew shouting my name behind me, but I wasn’t stopping.
Not for them, not for my job, not for anything.
The only thing that mattered in this world was Darcy.
I could save her. I would save her. She couldn’t leave me too. Not like this.
The fifty pounds of fire gear I was wearing couldn’t slow me down, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I ran. Dispatch had said medics already transported the other driver to the hospital, so that was where I ran, my boots pounding into the pavement with every stride.
A car flew up along side of me. A cruiser.
“Get in! I’ll bring you to her,” the officer yelled through the open window.
Changing direction, I threw myself into the car without buckling. “Please. Hurry,” I panted, but it wasn’t from running, I just couldn’t breathe.
“On it.” He flipped the lights and sirens on, speeding off toward the hospital.
The town whizzed past the window, but I didn’t see any of it.
My hands trembled uncontrollably in my lap, and my head spun.
I ripped my helmet off and tried to focus on what was around me, but everything inside me was screaming for attention.
My lungs. My head. My heart. It was all screaming, and it all screamed the same thing.
Darcy!
Over.
And over.
The hospital came into view, the cruiser screeching to a halt in front of the ambulance bay, and I leapt from the car. “Thank you!” I shouted, already halfway to the entrance.
The nurses at the desk snapped their heads up, their eyes alert and ready, clearly expecting paramedics with a patient. When they saw me, some of their tension subsided. Until they really looked at me.
“Darcy Adler,” I said, approaching one of them.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, concern lighting her features.
“Darcy Adler!” I shouted, my fist gripping my helmet tightly. “She was in a car crash and brought in here probably twenty minutes ago. Where is she?”
The nurse jumped slightly at my voice, her concern mixing with fear, which made me want to yell more because she didn’t do anything to warrant my rage.
What’s more? It didn’t matter that I was still in my uniform—a shouting man in a hospital was always going to be a shouting man in a hospital.
Meaning I had one more shot at this before they called security, if they hadn’t already.
I took a deep breath, or I tried to. “Darcy Adler. She’s pregnant and was in an accident. Do you know where they took her?”
The nurse’s eyes softened with sympathy. “Let me see.” She reached for a tablet and began tapping away. A minute went by before she looked back at me, eyes taking me in. “Is this work related?”
I shook my head, and immediately cursed myself. If it were work related, would it get me to her faster? I was seconds away from tearing off down the nearest hallway and bursting into every room until I found her.
“What’s your relation?” she asked.
“She’s my girlfriend.”
The nurse’s mouth turned down slightly. “I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to disclose patient information to anyone other than the patient’s family.”
“Please,” I begged, tears burning at the backs of my eyes. “I’m hers—she’s all I have. She’s pregnant with my baby, and I don’t even know if they’re okay. Please.”
Another nurse chimed in. “Did you check to see if he’s authorized on her list?”
“What’s your name?” she asked, once again tapping at the tablet screen.
“Archer Mack.”
“I’m sorry. Guess I should’ve led with that. You’re on there.”
I don’t know when Darcy added me to her authorized personnel list, but thank fuck she did. “Where is she?”
The nurse’s tone went from guarded to professional. “Darcy’s in emergency surgery. She herself suffered minor injuries—a concussion, a cracked rib, and some bruising.”
She was okay.
I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but I couldn’t because she had said “emergency surgery.” If Darcy was okay, then that only meant one thing.
“The baby?” My voice cracked over the two words.
She looked around as if trying to find someone. “The doctors are really the ones who should—”
I cut her off. “Please. If you know what’s going on, just tell me.”
“The force from the crash made the placenta completely detach from Darcy’s uterine wall.
Without it, the baby doesn’t receive oxygen or nutrients.
They are doing an emergency C-section.” Her words were clinical, but my knees almost buckled beneath me, as if the words themselves cut the tendons holding me upright.
Emergency C-section.
“But she’s only thirty weeks along.”
“The doctors can tell you more.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “But they got her here really fast. They’re in good hands.”
I nodded absently, staring blankly at her face. “Where can I wait for her?”
***
“Mr. Mack?” A man in navy scrubs with salt-and-pepper hair called from the doorway to the waiting room.
I jumped to my feet. It’d only been forty minutes, but I’d stared down the clock on the wall, watching every second tick into the next. “Archer. Are they okay?”
He smiled a small smile. “I’m Doctor Ambrose. Both Darcy and the baby are doing great.”
The breath that left my lungs sucked the adrenaline out with it, leaving me exhausted and feeling a little bit like I might throw up.
“Darcy’s back in recovery. We had to do the procedure with her under anesthesia because of the condition she came to us in, but you’ll be able to see her shortly. If you’d like to meet your son, I can bring you to him.”
Your son.
It was a boy.
Darcy was right.
I had a son.
My heart pounded in my chest, nervous energy filling my body, and the nausea increasing tenfold as my mind raced. Was this okay? Would Darcy care if I met our son without her?
No, she wouldn’t, at least, I didn’t think she would. She wouldn’t want him to be alone.
I swallowed hard around the lump of emotion in my throat, and nodded to the doctor. “Okay.”
He led us down a hallway and to a set of elevators. My feet moved on their own, ghosting on autopilot as Doctor Ambrose stepped inside the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. I didn’t speak—I wasn’t entirely sure I could, my mind only able to focus on those two words.
Your son.
Thankfully, the doctor didn’t try. Not until we got to the NICU, where he pointed to a too-small baby that was more tubes and wires than he was human.
“That’s him,” he said, his voice warm, but it sent chills down my spine, my skin erupting in goosebumps. “I know it may not seem like it, but he’s actually doing remarkably well.”
I nodded quietly. The doctor was right; he didn’t look good. His skin was wrinkled, and his limbs were essentially skin and bones. He looked frail, too frail, and how was he supposed to survive in this world being so small? If he was four pounds, I would’ve been shocked.
“Would you like to see him?” Ambrose asked, and I whipped my head towards him.
“Is that safe?” Looking back at our baby, I couldn’t imagine it was. It didn’t seem like anyone should so much as breathe near him.
He chuckled lightly. “Yes, it’s safe. We’ll get you dressed and you can go in there. You won’t be able to hold him quite yet, but you can see him. Say hello.”
Say hello.
I nodded again, which seemed to be the only thing I was capable of at the moment. “Yeah, okay.”
A couple minutes later, I was dressed head to toe in protective gear, standing in front of the incubator holding my son.
My son.
“Would you like a chair, sir?” a nurse with bright red hair asked, her bright eyes shining over the mask covering her face.
She held out a chair to me, and I slowly sank down into it, scared my knee would bump the cart he was on, and somehow break him.
“You can put your hands in the holes and hold his hand.”
I looked over my shoulder at her, and she nodded in encouragement.
Staring back down at my son, I tentatively put my gloved hand through the hole in the side of the container, placing my finger next to his tiny palm.
It flexed open then wrapped around the tip of my pointer finger, squeezing tighter than I would’ve thought possible from his slender fingers.
I gasped, leaning forward.
His eyes were closed, lashes dusting over the apples of his cheeks which were slightly hollowed, still needing weight to fill them out.
As I took him in, I couldn’t help but try to place his features.
He had Darcy’s nose unquestionably, and his ears, albeit the size of a quarter, looked like mine, as did the dark hair on his head.
The tape holding the tubes in his nose and mouth blocked my ability to see his lips, but if he were lucky, he’d have Darcy’s perfect cupid’s bow.
“Can he open his eyes?” I whispered to the nurse behind me without looking at her, scared that the slightest movement would startle him.
“He can. If you talk to him, he might recognize your voice,” she answered, then quietly went to check on one of the other babies, giving us some privacy.
What did I say to a baby? This was the closest I’d been to one in my entire life, and the self-imposed pressure on what to say rendered me mute. For a while, I simply stared at him, watching his chest rise and fall. In the end, I decided on introducing myself.
“Hey, little man,” I whispered, my throat suddenly tight with emotion. “I’m your dad.”
A little squeaking noise emanated from behind the tubes, and he kicked his feet, making me freeze.
When his heart rate monitor continued to beep steadily, I laughed breathily.
Awe filled my chest at the baby in front of me.
Adding my other hand, I gently cupped the top of his head with my palm, a tear sliding down my cheek.
“I’m your dad,” I repeated, sniffling as quietly as I could.
“I’m your dad, and I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. ”