Page 119 of Halo

“I'm getting us some help, okay?” The operator answers. “This is Dr. Crawford. Page an OB emergency to Guest Lot A at the front entrance.” I glance at the woman. “And tell me who's covering OB tonight.”

There's a brief pause.

“Dr. Tatum Erikson is on.”

I huff out a sigh of relief. “Thanks.” I hang up and immediately pull up Tatum's number.

She answers on the second ring. “Hey, you. I was just looking at pics of that seven-point—”

“I just paged an OB emergency.”

“What?” Something rustles abruptly in the background. “Where? What's going on?”

“I'm outside with a patient, thirty-five weeks. She fell directly on her abdomen, and she's bleeding with constant pain.”

“Shit.” Her voice sharpens immediately. “You think she's abrupting?”

I look at the woman curled forward on her knees, sobs tearing through her.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Okay. I'm gonna have them open an OR and get a team ready for us. If anyone gets there before me, do not take her through the ER. We'll bypass it.”

“Got it.”

“I'm on my way down.” There's a brief pause. “Hey, do you know the patient's name?”

“Uh, hold on.” I lower the phone and shift closer to the woman. “Ma'am, what's your name?”

She drags in a shaky breath, struggling to get the words out between sobs.

“Rachel. Rachel Barnett.”

Chapter 29

Leah

Lee, please. She can't die …

My brother's strangled words crescendo on repeat in my head. He called me in a panic less than an hour ago, barely able to speak, barely able to breathe.

Rachel was being rushed back for an emergency C-section because her placenta detached from the uterus. She was losing a lot of blood, and the baby—my precious niece or nephew who I'm supposed to spoil—was in distress.

I barely let Matt finish before grabbing my keys and heading out into the cold. He and Mom left the conference immediately, but with the roads icing over between Dallas and Houston, there's no telling how long it'll take them to get here.

An older woman with a new-grandma glow holds the unit door open for me as I hurry onto the labor and delivery floor and down the hallway to the nurse's station. With the well-being of my sister-in-law and the baby in the balance, I swallow the sob clawing up my throat and search for a nurse.

Behind the desk, a petite, older woman in scrubs talks into her work phone while keeping a watchful eye on a large monitor mounted to the wall. She ends the call as I approach.

Recognition knocks the breath from my lungs. Her hair is different now, the short braids replaced by natural curls, but there’s no mistaking those kind, deep brown eyes—especially since she was the one who gave me a voice when I didn't know I had one.

“It's … it's you.”

Mrs. Wanda's expression warms as a large smile beams across her face. “Leah.” She abandons her tasks and comes around the desk, pulling me into her arms. “Look at you,” she murmurs, squeezing me tight. “Baby, I have thought about you more times than you know.”

A laugh breaks out of me, tangled with my tears. “Gosh, I've thought about you, too. So much.” My voice cracks as my arms tighten around her, and suddenly, I can't make myself let go.

Mrs. Wanda doesn't move or loosen her hold. She simply rubs a slow hand up and down my back, letting me cling to her for as long as I need.