Panic began to creep in with thoughts like What if something is wrong with my baby and they’re trying to find someone to tell me? I supposed a doctor would just tell me, but no one was there, and the alone feeling solidified into a trembling fear. Using my least tangled up arm, I flipped sheets over my legs in one swift motion that sucked whatever energy I had exhausting me. I swayed back on the bed and lay still for as long as I dared before attempting to sit up again.
Gritting my teeth, I used the side bar to pull myself up. A red IV line attached to a bag of blood was hanging on the cart. I guessed that explained my weakness, but where was my son? My baby boy I barely held? I forced my legs over the side and of course, my feet didn’t touch the ground. Stupid short legs. I had a few inches between me and the floor that looked far more daunting than a floor had any right to look.
My free hand searched for the nurses’ call button, but I spied the cord hanging over the far side of the bed out of reach. Figures. There was no way I could reach it, feeling as I did, and I had no idea how long I had been there already. I reckoned I would have better luck getting to the nurses’ station this second time around. The board on the wall had fall risk scrawled in thick black letters as I shuffled barefoot, toes touching a cold tile floor. Parts of me felt like they were shifting without my consent, and the space between my legs, well I wished I had known that before I let my baby’s father touch me. Everything felt, squishy? It hurt and I felt all kinds of grossness between my thighs. Giving birth was natural, but I wasn’t exactly feeling garden fresh and all goddess-like to agree. It certainly didn’t feel natural when it was happening to you. I didn’t feel the empowered “hear me roar” thing women gossiped about. I felt scared, lonely, and incompetent. I felt like the business of birth was a huge scam. A pressure-cooker waiting to blow when I couldn’t measure up to the perfect moms on TV and the grocery store magazines.
I took a tentative step forward, and my legs nearly gave out under me. I felt like Bambi, who had way too many shots of whiskey, sliding across an ice rink, or in my case a slick, white linoleum floor.
“Whoa, sweet girl, hold on.” Evan rushed through the door and held me up from falling. Hands gripped my waist carefully, his thumbs squishing my swollen stomach. He came out of nowhere, my hero of sorts, helping me back to the bed. His arms felt like solid bands of steel under my clasp as he walked me backward. I sort of wished I could see them bare and trace my fingers over the swirls of tattoos I knew he had peeking out from his clothes. It was a shame his uniform covered most of them. The man was a microcosm of contradictions and a tease, at least to me. He was everything I wanted and nothing I could have.
“I heard you tried escaping earlier.” His mouth closed in on the space next to my ear, speaking softly, tickling my neck. I grunted a reply. His hand ran up and down my chilled arms, warming me with tingles and shivers.
“I’m not a convict,” I growled between twinges of residual pain.
“Of course not, you’re a little momma bear.” He chuckled, and the movement deep in his chest made me vibrate as we moved slowly back to the bed, step by aching step. Part of me didn’t want to reach the safety of the bed; I wanted to be reckless and stay right there, suspended in Evan’s arms, but that reckless heart of mine was to blame for getting me pregnant in the first place by a worthless human being like Ryder West. I had no business dragging down a man like Evan Rooney because my life
was a hot mess.
He wore fresh clothes and I leaned into him, secretly taking in a greedy sniff of his masculine smell and strength. If I was an addict, it would be to Evan Rooney’s scent. When was the last time anyone took care of just me? Never in my recollection, and there was Evan out of nowhere doing things…a boyfriend…a husband would do during a time like this. I was emotionally a scarred battlefield. I didn’t deserve this, and I couldn’t reciprocate if he had any expectations. So far he hadn’t said anything, and I pushed it away as far as I could, locking my heart up tight. I only had room there for one man now, a tiny squalling baby man I owed a future to.
“You need to go slow. You’re still getting a blood transfusion, and I don’t know anything about the surgical procedure they did after.” Evan held me up and moved the IV poll with me so nothing pulled.
“My son?” The question was a tortured plea, and my shaky hands gripped his arms, the cords of his muscles flexing under my fingers. He was close to me, overwhelming me in my space. The scent of him infiltrated my nose, making me lightheaded.
I heard a baby’s cry and my attention darted to the wheeled crib behind him being pushed by a nurse. My son was there and he was okay. My heart did a flip-flop, and my stomach settled but my legs did a jitterbug to get around Evan, who wouldn’t let me go. Nothing else mattered except getting to hold my baby. I clutched Evan harder, trying to get past him, but he held me back, pulling me into his arms as I whimpered to hold my son.
“Evan, my baby.” I couldn’t fight his hold, and I didn’t really want to so he turned me to see the crib.
“Remington, he’s not going anywhere. You need to recover.” Evan lips moved over my head. His gruff voice told me I wasn’t getting my way in this unless I conceded to him.
“I want Ethan. Let me go. Please.”
Evan paused, letting out a full breath before answering me. He didn’t release me immediately and if I thought too hard on this, I would have acknowledged what I imagined as a kiss on my forehead and a gentle squeeze before he guided me back to the bed. Later, I might have argued that he strong-armed me, but he was too gentle for me to call it that. He was like a big, overprotective, growly bear.
“Let’s get you back in bed, sweet girl.”
I let him do that, hoping he wouldn’t see more into this than simply being helpful. I had nothing to give a man like him, and my heart burned at the unfairness of it all. Why hadn’t I met him at a different point in my life? I kicked myself for the choices I’d made, but then I wouldn’t have my son and Evan wouldn’t be there now.
“Here, now. I’ll just leave you three together to get reacquainted all right.” The nurse whose name I couldn’t remember brought Ethan to me, settling him in my arms. He was the size of a football nestled in receiving blankets and smelled like baby powder. She adjusted the pillows behind my back, helping me to sit up better and support his little body. I breathed him in, hoping I would never forget his baby smell. He was mine. All mine. His little face would be imprinted in my dreams.
I peeked up at the nurse watching me; this one had a kind smile and a voice that calmed my nerves. “Daddy was real good holding him before, got a nice picture of him feeding him his first bottle.”
I glanced between Evan and my son.
The nurse cooed before unwrapping him a bit so he could share skin contact with me. That was fine, but I felt so cold even with the baby pressed close against me. Evan held my son before I did? What kind of mother was I turning out to be?
He must have sensed my deflated response because as soon as the nurse left, he launched into a hundred apologies I didn’t expect.
“I’m sorry. Remi, I uh didn’t know what to do when she pulled me into the nursery, and it just seemed, I don’t know, right in the moment, but I can see how it was wrong to step in like that without your…” He paced the room and the energy did nothing for my mounting anxiety and the strangeness of my new world.
I centered my thoughts with a deep breath. “Without my what? I was unconscious, being IV fed fluids; it wasn’t like I had much say in anything.” My legs thumped under the heavy blankets, but I couldn’t get warm. It was like someone turned down the temperature in an icebox. No wonder people hated hospitals. So cold and awful.
“But still, I shouldn’t have.” His panicked and heartfelt explanation went further than Ryder’s bullshit ever did. He provided care to my son while Ryder tried to force an abortion.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I reached for him drawing him closer. His hand was warm and comforting, and I liked the way his thick fingers traced over mine, taking the coldness away.
“Yeah, but…”
“Really, Evan. They made an assumption based on…” I couldn’t help but look him over. Good-looking, muscles, and kind eyes. Really, girl? Kind eyes was the best I could come up with. He was in clean clothes, but I guessed if he was hanging out in the nursery it seemed like a natural assumption. If I was being totally honest, Evan Rooney saw me more intimately than my son’s father ever had with his wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am hook-ups. Evan helped me bring Ethan safely into the world as much as possible and was more closely connected to my son than Ryder would ever be in this present moment. I struggled to understand how I truly felt about that. It was a lot to digest and reading into it only left me more confused than before.