Page 104 of Turning Back

“Holy shit,” I say, forgetting I’m not supposed to swear around her. “Holy fuck. Holy shit.” I grab my phone from my pocket and search ‘baby rash.’

Noooooooooo. Insect bites, food allergies, pollen, illness… it’s a long list. I was doing so well. I had this shit down!

I pick Adley up from the tub, wrap her in the little baby towel Rochelle keeps in the back of the door, and take her in to her room to get a better look.

Maybe I’m imagining it.

Six more welts have appeared on her stomach,

No. I’m not imagining it. I poisoned her. I fucked something up. She got bit by a black widow spider. This is bad. Oh, my God. She’s got welts all over her little body and she’s crying!

Diaper, sweat suit. Socks, no shoes.

Pick her up and run for the elevator.

I suck. I suck as a dad. I totally suck.

Rochelle trusted me for one damn night and now I have to call and tell her we’re on our way to the hospital.

I am the worst dad ever.

Chapter Twenty-Four - Bric

I give Rochelle props for keeping her cool. When Quin called and said he was taking Adley to the hospital, there was a moment. One long moment where I had enough time to imagine a full-fledged freakout from Rochelle.

But I said—in the calmest doctor voice I could manage—“It’s probably an allergic reaction, and nothing more.”

And she took a breath, nodded her head at me, and dealt with it rationally.

Of course, people die from allergies every day. But I left that part out.

We were five minutes from the hospital once we got in the car. Closer than Quin was, for sure. So he was only there a few minutes before we arrived and a nurse was already assessing Adley’s condition and reassuring Quin.

“Oh, my poor baby,” Rochelle says, rushing towards Quin. He’s holding Adley in his lap. She’s doing that little hiccup-cry kids do when they’re done crying, but can’t actually stop. She holds her arms out to Rochelle as she gets close and they hug each other.

Rochelle’s eyes close in relief.

“So what do you think?” I ask the nurse. “Food allergy?”

“Elias? Is that you?”

I turn to see Dr. Tanya Yates, wife of Terrence Yates, Club member since 1999. “Tanya. Nice to see a familiar face.”

“OK,” another doctor says, coming up behind Tanya. “Let’s bring her back now and just take a look.”

Quin and I follow Rochelle and the new doctor towards the double doors to the emergency room, but the nurse puts a hand on my arm and says, “Parents only, please.”

“I’m her father,” I say.

She looks confused, then points to Quin. “He said he was her father.”

“He is,” I say. “We’re both—”

“Linda,” Tanya says, coming up with a firm smile to interrupt the questioning. “Let it go. Go ahead, Elias.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, and turn to follow them in.

Quin and I stand aside as the doctor and nurse do an assessment. “Well,” the doctor says. “I don’t think it’s going to get any worse. Did you feed her something new tonight? Something she’s never had before.”