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24
ZAC
Isprinted toward the automatic doors of the ED, barely pausing long enough to squeeze through them as they slid along their tracks. The woman at the counter saw me coming and stood to greet me. “Can I help you?”
“Grayson Miller, I’m his dad.”
She looked down at her computer, nodding. “He’s right over there, bed three.”
I tapped the top of the ledge between us and took off before she even finished speaking, tossing a quick, “Thanks,” over my shoulder as I went. When I blasted into the room, my heart broke at the sight of my son’s little body in the big hospital bed. He laid there without oxygen, smiling back at me. He looked tired but otherwise totally fine.
Layla had kept me updated during my four-hour drive back to Bluffton but seeing with my own eyes that he was okay was like nothing I’d ever experienced. It was more than the surge of gratitude after finding a missing child as their parents frantically searched for them. More intense than wrestling a weapon away from a drunk Marine in a blind rage. More satisfying than getting the bad guy after a lengthy hunt, preventing him from hurting anyone else.
“Gray.” Rushing to his side, I leaned down, burying my face in the space between his head and shoulder.
He pressed his cheek into my hair, and I felt his hand come up to hug me back. So many emotions swirled within me, making me dizzy as I simply held him. There was sadness that he’d had to go through this, relief that he was okay, anger that I hadn’t been here, and pride that Layla had acted fast enough to save his life.
Layla.
I snapped my head up, eyes searching the small stall. Where was she?
“She’s getting me water,” Gray said, his voice nearly a whisper.
“Here it is, buddy.”
I spun around at the sound of her voice, watching, frozen, as she tentatively stepped toward the other side of the bed and extended the cup to my son. He took it gratefully, lips searching for the bendy straw but missing every time.
Layla smiled down at him and then guided the straw into his mouth, her face so tender it broke my heart a little bit more. “Better?”
He swallowed the water and nodded, then leaned his head back on the pillow as she took the cup away. I continued to stare, my fists clenched and chest tight, searching for the perfect words to thank her for saving my son. But she was avoiding my gaze.
“Gray, we’re going to step out for a second, okay?” I asked, hooking a thumb toward the opening of his small room.
Layla’s shoulders drooped, and she reached out to pet Grayson’s hair. “Bye, Gray.”
“Uh, no,” I said, “notbye. We’ll be right outside the door. Just call out if you need us.”
Layla’s eyes finally flicked to mine, surprise swimming in them. Then her brows and lips twitched like she was trying to hold back tears.
At Grayson’s small noise of understanding, I reached over the bed for her hand and tugged her toward the door.
When we made it out of Gray’s line of sight, she let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to leave his side, but he was really thirsty, and no one was bringing him—”
I didn’t give her a chance to finish her sentence before yanking her against me, one hand around her waist and the other in her hair. She was shocked for a second but then quickly melted against me, looping her arms around my middle, and holding on for dear life.
Quiet sobs racked her body, and I rubbed her back. “Shh, it’s okay. He’s fine.”
More crying, more shaking, but no response.
I held her close as her tears soaked into my shirt, pouring so much love into her that I wondered if it was possible for it to completely drain me. “I know, I get it,” I soothed. “That was probably terrifying.”
At this, she pushed away from me, frustration all over her face. “Stop it.”
The ED was quiet, the lights dim because it was so late, but we weren’t completely alone. I looked around and gave small smiles of reassurance to the nurses who’d looked up at her outburst.
“Stop what?” I asked softly.
“Stop trying to make me feel better,” she whispered, apparently now more aware of her surroundings.
