Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Wait…are you still with her?”
“Yes. Of course. I’ve stayed with her the whole time, and Chase should be here any minute,” he confirms, and there’s a part of me that’s taken aback by his kind gesture. “Dr. Cummings is actually running her care since he’s the OB on call, but rest assured, I’m keeping my eye on things.”
“Thank you so much, Noah.” The urge to get to my sister as fast as humanly possible makes my nerves grate at the edges of my raw stomach. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hang up the phone quickly, and before I can even say anything, Gavin is shaking his head. “No, no. Don’t worry about me or let me keep you. You obviously have somewhere you need to be. I hope everything works out and your sister is okay, and if you need me at all, just give me a call. Yeah?”
I nod, clutching Seth’s shoulder and pushing him forward. “I will. Thanks, Gavin.”
He turns on his heel, heading in the opposite direction from us, and I guide my little troublemaker back toward the hospital.
But not even thirty seconds later, Seth starts asking questions.
“Who was that guy, Mommy?”
“Just someone I know from work.”
“Does he want to marry you?”
I laugh outright. “No, buddy. He just wanted to go out to dinner. Sometimes adults do that with other adults.”
“That’s what Aunt Brooke wants you to do with Noah.”
That pulls me up short, and it takes a Herculean effort not to stop right here in the middle of the sidewalk.
“What? Where’d you hear that from?”
“I heard Aunt Brooke talking about it to Uncle Chase. She said you and Noah are lobsters. What does that mean? How can people be lobsters?”
Good grief. My sister needs to stop watching Friends reruns. She also needs to mind her own beeswax when it comes to the love life I don’t have time for.
“It means your aunt Brooke is silly.” And lucky she’s already in the hospital.
Because if she weren’t, there’s a good chance I’d put her there.
Benji is perched at the foot of Brooke’s hospital bed, his snout resting between his paws. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is slack as Seth and I shuffle quickly into her room on the fourth floor of St. Luke’s.
The line to check in at the front desk was long, and the haul to the OB unit wasn’t much shorter. My nerves are shot, and it’s not even four p.m. yet.
My sister shifts just slightly, causing a moan to roll from her lips. Panic freezes me at first, but when a second groan rents the air, I take off to her bedside with concern.
“Brooke,” I say gently, shaking at her shoulder to wake her from her painful slumber. “Brooke, are you okay?” I ask as her eyes struggle to open. She looks pale and completely exhausted, and the guilt of being at the center of causing her hospital admission multiplies exponentially.
I can’t believe I thought mixing her condition with a bunch of loose-cannon elementary school kids was a good idea. I mean, I live with two of them. They’re practically terrorists.
“Brooke,” I say again, this time with more vigor than gentleness.
She finally stirs, and I cup her cheek with love and worry. “Oh, sis. I’m so sorry. Are you…” My voice breaks. “Are you okay? What did they say after running the tests?”
She scrubs at her eyes and sits up a little straighter, confusion rampant. “What? What’s going on?”
“Oh my God,” I whisper. Is she delirious? Did she somehow hit her head and cause some sort of amnesia?
Real, raw panic is settling into my bones now. “I can’t believe I did this to you. I can’t believe—”
“Sam,” a familiar and warm male voice interrupts, his gentle hand on my shoulder.
I turn to meet Noah’s eyes, tears plainly falling from my own now. His face startles as he takes in the distress I’m currently drowning in. “Sammy? Are you okay? What happened?”
I dive forward and bury my face in Noah’s chest, not thinking of how awkward that must be for him—not thinking of anything, really.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he urges, pulling my body away just slightly to meet my eyes.
“Brooke,” I manage on a cry. “I can’t believe I did this to her. She looks awful and run-down and—”
“Whoa, whoa, Sammy. Hold on a minute,” Noah interrupts, his tone gentle but undeniably firm. “We got the tests back, and everything is fine. Her iron’s a little low, so we’re giving her a supplement in her IV, but other than that, Brooke is good. The baby is good. I swear.”
“But…” I turn to glance at her ashen pallor again before whipping back to Noah. “She’s sluggish and hardly responsive and—”
Noah smiles, a tenderness in his face I can’t even fathom. “Oh, Sam. She’s sleepy from gorging on Italian food. She just pounded that chicken parm you brought like no tomorrow.”