Page 130 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

I nodded but didn’t respond. I was on edge, and I didn’t have words to offer beyond what I’d already said. He left his seat and returned with bottled water and food no one touched.

Journey came next. She didn’t fill the room with questions or forced me to speak. She sat on the floor in front of my chair and rested her head against my knee.

Two hours passed. Then three. Every time the doors opened, my heart struck my ribs. A nurse came out once to tell us they'd located the obstruction and Malik remained stable. I thanked her and released a deep breath. My stomach however, was in knots. Amelia held my hand and prayed beneath her breath.

I stared at the floor and saw Malik at two pounds, surrounded by tubes inside an incubator. I saw the first shunt beneath his skin—the first incision. The first time a doctor told me that vomiting and sleepiness could mean an emergency.

I had spent ten years learning how to keep him alive. Tonight, his life rested in Elijah’s hands. The doors opened shortly after ten. Elijah stepped into the waiting room wearing fresh scrubs. Deep marks crossed his face where his mask had pressed against his skin.

I stood so quickly that the chair struck the wall.

His eyes found mine.

“He’s stable.”

My knees gave way.

Elijah reached me before I hit the floor. I clung to him as a sob tore out of my chest.

“The catheter was blocked by scar tissue,” he said against my hair. “We replaced it and confirmed that the shunt is draining. His pressure came down.”

“He’s okay?”

“Yes.”

I pulled back and searched his face.

“Say it again.”

“Malik is okay.”

I heaved as I cried, releasing what little strength I had into Elijah’s arms. Amelia cried openly. Naomi wrapped both arms around her. Christian swiped a hand over his face and let out a deep breath while Xander nodded and slapped him on the shoulder, squeezing it firmly.

“You saved him.” My hands moved over Elijah’s face. “You saved my baby.”

His forehead touched mine.

“Our baby.”

The words broke through what remained of me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him. For months, Elijah had shown me what he wanted through the space he made in his life. He had learned Malik’s routines. He had changed his schedule. He had stayed through nights that left all of us tired. He had loved my son without asking for credit or permission to call it love.

Tonight, he showed that love through his willingness to help and those steady hands. A nurse approached us.

“Ms. Mellows, you can see your son in recovery.”

I kept one hand inside Elijah’s as we followed her. Malik laid in recovery with a white bandage near his temple. The harshest wires had been removed, but the monitors still surrounded him.

I went to his bedside.

“Hey, baby.”

His eyelids moved.

I brushed my fingers over his cheek.

“Mama’s here.”

His eyes opened slowly. They wandered before finding my face.