Chapter 14
Cody
I wanted to kiss her. But I didn’t.
I probably would’ve if that nurse hadn’t walked in right then.
Something about the way Karissa looked at me… It wasn’t dramatic or too obvious. Just this soft, yet tired look. As if she saw me in a new way. Like maybe she wanted me to kiss her. I can’t explain it; it practically knocked the wind out of me.
But that nurse walked in and I guess I wasn’t supposed to kiss her. I’ll take it as a sign.
But damn. I’ve spent so much time on edge, doing everything I could to keep her safe, watching her, checking on her, making sure she was okay as much as I could. I had one goal—get the baby here safe, then breathe. Then let her go on her way.
But now? She’s awake, she’s alive, and Emma’s okay. I should feel relieved, now that it’s all over, but I don’t. It feels heavier. The weight is sitting on my chest like a frickin’ truck.
Because somewhere in all the chaos of the last few days, I stopped thinking about myself. Pushed it all aside. And I didn’t even realize it until she looked at me like that.
And I don’t know what the hell to do with it.
Karissa shifts a little, her voice barely above a whisper. “Did you call your family? Tell them what happened?”
I nod. “Yeah. Told my mom when they were taking you back.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “Did you tell them I’m awake?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
She doesn’t say anything else, just nods, but the question hangs in the air. Truth is, I haven’t left this room long enough to call anyone. Wasn’t gonna miss a second, not after how scary it got.
When I called my mom…I was nervous, shaky.
If I’m honest, it didn’t sound like me. I couldn’t even get the words out at first. I was pacing, staring at the floor, trying not to let my voice crack.
But it did, just enough for her to know something was really wrong.
Because I don’t get emotional like that.
She was worried too, told me to pray, and when I told her I did about twenty times already, she told me not to stop. So I didn’t.
I clear my throat and glance down at Emma. “Yeah, I’ll call Mom,” I mutter and step out into the hall.
* * *
Karissa’s asleep again. Just a light doze, and her breathing’s steady. Emma’s out cold too, swaddled up in that bassinet like nothing traumatic just happened to either of them.
A soft knock at the door breaks the quiet.
The door creaks open slowly and a woman steps in.
She’s not in scrubs, just professional clothes that aren’t overly formal.
She’s holding a tablet, tapping the screen as she walks in.
I stand, crossing my arms over my chest, and my eyes go straight to her badge, instinctively cautious, my guard still up.
It takes a second, but then I catch the title printed beneath her name. Lactation Consultant.
“Karissa?” she asks, her voice low.
Karissa blinks awake, groggy. “Yeah?”
“I’m Maggie, with the lactation team. I wanted to see if you’d like to try feeding Emma or if you were going to stick with formula.”
Karissa glances at Emma, then toward me. I nod once—just a small one—because it’s obviously her call.
Karissa nods. “Yeah, I wanna try to breastfeed.”
“Great.” Maggie picks up Emma, and by the time Karissa sits up, Maggie’s already guiding her through positioning and whatever else. I didn’t know it was such a complex process.
Once she starts talking about the latch, though, I know that’s my cue.
I clear my throat and start toward the door. “I’ll give you some space,” I say.
Karissa looks at me, a flicker of something in her eyes. “Okay,” she says softly.
Before I leave, I pause at the edge of the bed and reach down, my hand settling gently on her ankle over the blanket. I don’t squeeze, just rest it there.
“Is that okay?” I ask, low.
Not asking if I can leave…asking if she’s good, if she’s alright being in here without me.
She looks up at me, eyes a little glassy. “Yeah.” She nods.
I hold her gaze for another beat, then let my hand fall away, slipping out into the hallway, letting the door softly click shut behind me.
The hallway is like a whole new world—bright, sterile. Quiet talking on phones, staff working throughout the space.
I pull my phone out and Mom answers on the second ring, like she’s been waiting on my call. “Hey, everything still okay?”
“Yeah.”
“How is she?”
“Good, tired. A lactation consultant came in, so—”
“So you got out of there.” She laughs.
I laugh once. “I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.”
“No, I get that. It’s probably best. Give her space to figure it out.”
I don’t say anything—I don’t know what else there is to say—but Mom fixes that. “Are you alright?” she asks.
I swallow. “Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“I’m fine,” I say, sharper than I mean.
“Okay, well…good.” I can feel it behind her words…she doesn’t believe it. But she knows not to push.
We wrap up the conversation and hang up. I slide the phone back in my pocket and lean against the wall beside Karissa’s door. Waiting. Giving her space like I said I would.
A few minutes pass before the door opens again. The lactation consultant, Maggie, steps out. I push off the wall and straighten up. She pumps sanitizer from the dispenser, her tablet tucked under one arm, then turns and notices me as she rubs the sanitizer into her hands.
She smiles. “She did great.”
I nod. “Good.”
“She’s got a strong latch. Might be a little sore at first; that’s totally normal. Keep up the skin-to-skin, lots of fluids, and make sure she’s offering both sides evenly at each feeding.”
I blink once. “Alright…”
She keeps going. “When her milk comes in fully, probably sometime tomorrow, she might feel engorged. That’s normal too. Just make sure she keeps feeding or pumping through it. And let her sleep when she can. Recovery’s a lot on the body.”
I stare at her. Why is she telling me all this?
Oh. Right. They think I’m the dad.
I nod again, slowly. “Okay, yeah. Got it.”
She smiles like I just passed a test. “You’re doing great, Dad.” She pats my bicep.
I don’t bother correcting her. I just offer a tight smile. “Thanks.”
She walks off down the hall and I wait until she’s out of sight before heading back into the room.