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“Let me talk to him.” I grab a shirt after I have my bra on.
“Bud, Mommy wants to talk to you,” Bowie says, and Kingston stops screaming and whimpers.
“Mommy, I hurt.”
Oh God, I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack or throw up.
“I know, baby, but you’re so brave. Mommy is on the way, okay?”
“I want you.”
“I know, lovie. I’ll see you in just a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay,” he sobs, and I close my eyes.
“I’ll see you at the hospital,” Bowie says, and I hang up, slip on a pair of Birkenstocks after I put on a hoodie, and spin for the door, almost running face-first into Tucker.
“Do you need your purse?” he asks, and I realize he’s gotten dressed and has his keys in his hand.
“Yeah, probably.” My hands shake.
“Grab it, baby.”
With a nod, I run to the kitchen and grab my purse, then meet him at the front door. Without a word, we both go to his truck, and once I’m locked in, he jogs around the hood to the driver side.
“It’s going to be okay.” He takes my hand in his, pulling it over to his lap.
“I’ve never heard him scream like that,” I whisper through the ache in my throat.
“He’s probably more scared than anything.”
I know he’s right. Still, all I can think about is my tiny baby with a cut so deep it needs stitches.
The drive to the hospital feels like it takes hours when in reality it’s less than ten minutes, and as soon as he pulls up out front of the emergency room doors, I hop out and jog inside.
“I’m looking for my son,” I tell the receptionist at the desk, and after giving his name and share my ID, she gives me the room number and tells me to head on back. When I push open the door, I find Kingston on the bed with Bowie, and Naomie standing in the corner with her arms crossed over her chest, looking at the two of them. Ignoring the fact that she’s here, I walk toward the bed, where Bowie is holding a towel stained with red against Kingston’s forehead.
“Hey, lovie,” I whisper, and he opens his red-rimmed eyes.
“Mommy,” he croaks, trying to sit up, his voice obviously strained from crying.
“I’m here.” I take a seat next to him, and tears fill my eyes as I take over holding the towel so he can crawl onto my lap. “Has the doctor been in?” I look at Bowie over the top of his head.
“She just left. She went to get the stuff she needs.”
I nod, then look at the door when it’s opened, and my heart tumbles all over itself when Tucker steps into the room.
“What are you doing here?” Naomie asks, and Bowie stands.
“He’s with me,” I say quietly.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Naomie hisses.
“What the fuck, Miranda?” Bowie glares, then snaps, “Are you seeing him?”
“Yes,” Tucker answers as I’m about to tell him it’s none of his business.
“For how long?” Bowie growls, and I hold Kingston’s head against my chest, covering his ear.
“It’s none of your business.”
“You’re my wife.”
“Ex-wife,” Tucker says calmly as he walks over to stand next to me, and I feel anger roll off Bowie.
“You…” Bowie starts but snaps his mouth shut when the door is opened and a very pretty woman around my age wearing scrubs and a white coat walks in, pushing a cart.
The moment she spots Tucker standing over me, she gives him a smile of familiarity, and jealousy instantly curls around my insides. “Tucker.”
“Leah,” he says as his hand wraps around the back of my neck. “You working over here tonight?”
“Yeah, they’re short-staffed.” Her eyes move from his to his hold on me, and she grins. “You must be Miranda.”
“Umm…” I look up at Tucker when his fingers tighten.
“Leah is Willow’s best friend.”
Willow, his brother’s new wife.
My muscles relax, and I look at her. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” She moves her gaze to Kingston and steps toward the bed. “Hey, little man. Are you ready to get your owie fixed up?” she asks, and he shakes his head no. “How about if Mommy holds you?”
His eyes come to mine.
“Can you be extra brave for Mommy, just for a few minutes?”
He nods after a moment, and I get more comfortable on the bed while Leah pushes the cart around, then drags over a rolling stool. When she sits, I watch her, holding my breath as she takes the towel away from the cut that is just above his brow. It’s not very big, maybe half an inch, but it is deep, and seeing it makes me sick to my stomach.
“You okay, Mama?” Leah asks, and I meet her gaze.
“Yes,” I lie, and she nods while Tucker smooths his thumb up and down the side of my neck. His constant touch and steadiness helping me relax as much as I can in this situation.
