Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 64910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“Since he’s bomb happy.” Tide shoved his phone back into his pocket. “We need to be extremely careful about this.”
We did need to be careful.
And we would.
But we would locate him. We would bring him back to Texas. And he would be our newest ward of Hotel Crow.
CHAPTER 27
When I said I liked it rough, I didn’t mean my entire life.
-T-shirt
BRAM
“He’s gonna need to be here for about a week or so,” the nurse currently picking my child up said. “But we’d love to get him some skin-to-skin time.”
At first, I had no clue what that was.
Not until the nurse explained.
I swallowed hard past the lump in my chest at the sight of our baby hooked up to so many wires and tubes and pulled off my shirt.
The nurse handed me a warm blanket that she then helped drape behind my back, and I sat back in the chair that she’d pulled up to Harker’s bedside.
“Now, what you’re gonna do…” the nurse said, then explained exactly how I would hold him and what I would need to do to avoid pulling off any wires.
Minutes later, the nurse walked away, and I got my first good look at my son up close and personal.
“You have your momma’s nose,” I whispered to my boy. “And her hair. All that beautiful, blonde hair.”
The baby moved, his hand opening and closing over my chest.
“Your mother is the best person in this world,” I whispered. “Let me tell you all about her.”
So I did.
For the next two hours until they kicked me out for the night.
I held my son and told him about the best person that I knew.
The one woman that would hold my heart for a lifetime, whether she was here or not.
“Can you snap a picture for me?” I asked before she started to take him away from me. “I want to show my wife when she wakes up.”
I didn’t miss the sympathetic look she threw me before she took the picture. Nor did I miss the whispers as I left.
They didn’t think she’d make it.
Well, that made two of us. Because I didn’t think she’d make it either. Not this time.
Over the past twenty-four hours, after seeing her, I knew that she wasn’t fighting.
She’d given up.
She’d gone from really bad to worse.
All in a short span of time.
“Sure,” the nurse whispered. “I’d be happy to.”
So she did.
When they took my son away from me, I felt a distinct feeling of loss, yet I still didn’t react.
Couldn’t.
Because if I lost it, I wouldn’t get myself put back together again.
Knew it with a certainty that had determination in my step as I walked out of the hospital.
The first thing I did upon leaving—even though I wanted to go to the ICU and try to force my way in to see my wife—was go to a lawyer.
I walked into the first lawyer’s office that I’d seen online. Upon stopping outside of the building the address had led me to, I blinked a few times, wondering if I was in the right spot.
Then, I decided that it didn’t matter if I was in the right spot or not.
It was a sign from God that I needed to get drunk.
Walking into the bar called ‘Tweeters’ I headed straight to the bartender and said, “Is my mind just complete bullshit, or did Google lead me to a bar instead of a lawyer’s office?”
The bartender smiled. “Right place. My sister works out of the back room. You’re looking for her?”
“I am.” I paused. “And I’m also looking to get drunk. But I’ll talk to her first if she has time. This is time sensitive, so…”
Meaning, my head wasn’t on straight, I needed to get shit figured out, and I had a feeling that my depression was on a downward slide. As in, I was headed straight down into a slump if what I had a feeling was about to happen, happened.
“Sure.” He jerked his chin at the chair in front of him. “Have a seat. She’ll come out here. Two birds, one stone.”
I sat and waited for less than five minutes for the lawyer to come out.
According to the White Pages on Google, her name was Birdie John VanDerBeek. She was thirty-one and had been practicing law for five years.
She was a criminal defense attorney, but also did family law and end of life planning.
I was fairly sure that this certain instance equaled end of life planning if I’d ever categorized it.
“Hello,” she said softly, her eyes missing nothing. “Can I help you?”
I took her hand that she offered me, then dropped it the moment her brother set a shot of whiskey down in front of me.
After knocking it back, I turned to study her. “I need to do a last will and testament for myself.”
She blinked. “Um, okay. As in, right now?”