Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Where my place was bare and boring, Kayla’s was bright and cheery.
She had this fru-fru couch that looked like it would be uncomfortable as hell, like it came from some antique shop and was built not for comfort, but to be as ugly as possible.
“Where?” I asked, fitting the earpieces of my stethoscope into my ear.
“She’s in this rock and play thing,” Kayla pointed to it next to the couch, and I headed toward it.
Abrielle, Rafe’s little girl who looked like a mini-version of him, was lying in it, looking at me alertly.
I couldn’t say I’d ever seen her actually awake.
But this time, she was alert and staring straight at me.
I squatted down and picked her up into my arms, a pang of sadness hitting me when I remembered that Gunner and Jett had once been that small.
“What is she doing?” I asked.
But it was obvious what she was doing. She had this noisy breathing going on that sounded like she needed to clear her throat. But, as a baby, she hadn’t figured out how to do that yet.
Sort of like she was having a hard time breathing, yet she looked fine. I couldn’t say that I’d ever heard anything quite like it.
Not from an infant, anyway.
“How long has she been making the sound?” I asked, placing my stethoscope under her shirt and pressing it to her skin.
“For about five minutes now?” she offered.
Abrielle jumped when the cold pad met her skin but otherwise didn’t react to the intrusion.
“Is that cold, baby girl?” I asked her.
Kayla made some sort of sound in her throat, but I didn’t look at her or ask her what the sound was for since I was busy listening to Abrielle’s lungs.
“Everything sounds clear,” I told her. “Her color is great. She’s responsive. Honestly, she looks healthy. Did you call Janie and ask if this was normal?”
“Not yet,” I hesitated. “She’s…it’s the first time…it’s been six weeks.”
He blinked.
“Text her.”
She did, and received an immediate response back.
Big Tits McGee: Shit! Sorry! Yes. Tracheomalacia. That’s what the doctor appointment was for. We discussed her breathing issues. Apparently, she has a floppy windpipe instead of a developed one. All it means is that she’ll be a noisy breather for a while. I googled it after I left because I was freaking the fuck out. But then just decided to call Aunt Cheyenne. She said although it’s okay, she’ll probably outgrow it, that it could be bad if she ever got super sick. But for now, she’s perfectly all right.
“God,” I breathed. “She’s got what Janie just said was tracheomalacia. Something about a floppy windpipe that’s underdeveloped. She’s a noisy breather.”
Parker grunted. “Would’ve thought she would’ve said something before she left her kid with you.”
Me: Okay. But next time there’s something wrong with your kid, tell me.
Bit Tits McGee: I’m sorry. I was freaking out. I knew you were freaking out. And I’m a horrible parent. I should come get her.
Me: No, I’m okay. Do your husband, then come get her.
Bit Tits McGee: I’m hiding in the bathroom. I’m scared he’s going to find me unattractive.
Me: He loves you, Janie. He doesn’t care if you have a floppy vagina.
Big Tits McGee: I don’t have a floppy vagina. I’m looking at it in the bathroom mirror. It looks pretty good.
Me: I don’t even know what to say to you sometimes.
Big Tits McGee: I had to make sure there was no toilet paper bits in there.
I snorted and dropped my phone down onto the coffee table, then looked up to find Parker with his stethoscope around his neck, and his eyes studying the baby.
“You okay?”
He looked up and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Are you a paramedic?” I questioned.
He nodded. “Learned a lot of trades in the Navy.”
He didn’t expound, so I vaguely wondered if he was willing to share anymore.
Probably not, but I was never one to give up before I knew what I wanted to know.
“Why are you working for Hail and not at the fire station?” I questioned.
Parker shrugged. “I volunteer.”
“You volunteer?”
He nodded. “Hostel is too small to have a full-time department, so they make do with volunteers from the surrounding area.
“Why doesn’t Rafe do that?” I wondered aloud.
“Rafe has too many other things he’s trying to keep hidden to volunteer,” he said.
“Like what?” I paused. “And trying?”
Parker shrugged. “We all have our own set of particular skills.”
With that cryptic comment, he started to walk to the door, and that’s when I saw it.
It was a small hole, but still one that I could see, and that damn compulsion started to pound inside my head.
I swallowed and moaned, causing him to turn back around, but not far enough that I could no longer see the hole.
“What are you looking at?” he asked.
I blurted out the first words that came to mind.
“You have holes!”
He blinked. “I have holes?”