Right foot.
One after the other at a painfully slow pace.
I make it to the cab of my truck and shut myself inside then stare at the concrete wall of the parking garage in front of me. Space number twenty-eight.
That’s how long Bryson cooked in Amanda’s belly for.
Twenty-eight weeks.
I beat my fists against the steering wheel, not caring that the horn blares a few times. He’s too young to know this kind of suffering. Not able to breathe on his own. Unable to eat. It’s not fair.
He didn’t ask to be brought into this world, but here he is, the underdog, already fighting to make it.
I rest my head against my hands and give into the sobs taking over. My fingers grip the steering wheel until my skin hurts. I need pain. Pain I can control.
My passenger door opens and Mom wraps her arms around me. She pulls me into her and I can’t hold back anymore. I cry, like my newborn should be doing but he can’t because of all those damn tubes.
“Shhh.” Mom rubs her hand in circles on my back, like she did when I was a kid. “Everything is going to be alright.”
I sit up and look her in the eye. Hers are bloodshot, like mine, from fallen tears. It chokes me up even more because Mom is the strongest woman I know.
“Will it? He’s so tiny, Mom. How can a baby be that small and survive?”
“Hey.” Mom cradles my cheeks and wipes my tear
s with her thumbs. “Bryson has the best doctors available. Besides, he’s a Thomas—even if his name doesn’t reflect it, yet—and we are survivors. That boy is going to be fine. You wait and see.”
She kisses my forehead and then pats my leg. “We should get home. There’s nothing more we can do tonight and Layla is probably worried sick.”
Layla. Shit. I’d forgotten all about her in the wake of things. I pull my phone out of my pocket, knowing good and well that I fucked up tonight. I just hope it’s not too late to fix things.
Me: Hey. Mom and I are headed back to the house. Are you still home?
I set the phone on the dash and leave the hospital. It’s a forty minute drive from the hospital to the farm, if you go the speed limit. Mom and I made it here in twenty, but she’s shot me more than one look about how fast I’m driving this time. I slow down to going only ten-MPH over the limit. About halfway through the ride home, I check my phone at a stoplight, but Layla hasn’t responded. So I text her again.
Me: I’m sorry about earlier. We should have that conversation again.
Layla: You said plenty the first time. I got your message loud and clear.
“Honey, the light is green.”
Shit. I toss my phone back on the dash and continue down the road. I wait for it to ding again, but the sound never comes. As I pull into the driveway to drop Mom off, it’s clear that Layla isn’t at my house anymore. All the lights are off and even though it’s too dark to see the driveway, I can tell her car’s not there.
“This might be a stupid question, but are you okay?” Mom will sit in that passenger seat until I answer. She’s a patient woman, but when she asks a question, she expects an answer.
“I fucked up with Layla tonight.” I drop my head against the rest, feeling that burn welling in my eyes again. Today has been too much. First the baby, and now Layla. I need life to cut me a break.
“Sweetie.” Mom touches my arm. I force a smile, because I know it makes her feel better, but I’m dying inside. “Layla will understand. Today was… well, it was unexpected.”
“Yeah. I hope so.”
Mom smiles then heads into her house. I follow the drive to mine, unsurprised when it’s empty. I pick up my phone and call Layla. It rings and rings until going to voicemail. I hang up and call again, this time only getting one ring before being ignored. That pit in my stomach expands into a black hole, sucking me in. “Layla, it’s Josh. I fucked up earlier and I’m sorry. I was going through some shit, still am, but I’m getting a handle on it. Call me back.”
I hang up and call Hattie. I’m hoping she’s there and didn’t drive all the way back to Orlando. It rings twice before she answers. “Hello, handsome. What’s up?”
“Is Layla with you?” My pulse ravages my chest. I need her to be there. I know I said I wanted to be alone earlier, but I’ve changed my mind. I want to hold Layla, tell her how I’m falling for her, and fill her in on everything. Hopefully she’ll understand and stick around. If not, I don't know what I’ll do.
“No. Is everything okay?”