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Intense sadness blanketed me this morning, and I knew it was because I’d done things last night I couldn’t undo, but at the time, I felt so good, so much like my old self that I forgot for a few minutes. I forgot everything weighing me down, and I forgot that no matter how much we talked, Race and I were not anywhere near where I wanted us to go last night. I couldn’t remember everything, but I remember driving through a field with his hand wrapped around mine. I’d never felt that happy or safe in my life, but then I threw away all the good we shared because I pushed too hard.
Wyatt sighed, and I smiled softly. He was gaining weight, and they’d removed some of the tubes, which made him look much healthier.
“You beat Dad here today.”
My head snapped up when I heard a voice beside me and saw that a nurse was moving along the other side of the incubator to check Wyatt’s machine.
“Who?” I asked, confused by her words.
“Wyatt’s dad.” She smiled. “He comes in before work every morning or at least that’s what we assume since he’s wearing a Dimarco Construction T-shirt and work boots.” She adjusted something on his machine before facing me fully. “He’s so sweet with him. He sits in the rocking chair just holding him and talking to him.” She walked around the incubator and patted me on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky girl to have a man like him in your life, and Wyatt’s lucky to have such a good dad.”
Except it was all pretend,I thought as I watched her walk away. I couldn’t understand why he was still pretending to be Wyatt’s dad. I never understood why he did it in the first place. I always assumed Bear wanted someone in the room because he was concerned about me, but then he said he couldn’t stop Race.
I didn’t understand any of it.
And I was too damn afraid to trust anything he’d been telling me. Too damn afraid of letting him get close and then losing him like I’d lost everyone else.
Suddenly overwhelmed, I gently pulled my hand from Wyatt’s and crossed the room, but I didn’t make it far before I pressed my back to the wall and slid to sit on the floor. I was tucked away in a corner where no one could see me, which was the only explanation as to why I finally let myself feel the emotions that had been following me like a shadow for weeks. I pulled my knees to my chest, dropped my head, and allowed the hot tears to roll down my cheeks.
I don’t know how long I sat there and cried before I felt a hand wrap around mine and squeeze. Slowly, I lifted my head and saw Race squatting in front of me. Emotions slammed into me, almost suffocating me with their power, until I had to look away.
“Come on,” he said in a low voice while tugging my hand.
“Where are we going?” I whispered.
“Where I should’ve taken you weeks ago.”
I didn’t understand what he meant, but I also didn’t question him further. I stood and walked beside him out of the hospital and to his truck. He never once let go of my hand until he closed the passenger door and jogged to the other side. We didn’t speak as he drove, and after a while, I assumed he was taking me to Bear, but I no longer cared. I just stared out the window.
When he parked, I focused on the small building in front of me and frowned. He took me to see Kat. Before I could question him, he was out of the truck and opening my door. He once again wrapped his hand around mine, and I followed him into the clinic, coming face-to-face with Kat.
She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tighter when I started to cry once again. I had no idea why or how I could have any tears left, but I obviously did. Pulling back, she led me into the exam room and closed the door behind me. She patted the table, and I climbed up to sit on the edge while she crossed the room and grabbed a box of tissues. After she set the box next to my leg, I pulled a few out and wiped my eyes just as she sat on a stool with wheels and rolled her way toward me.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” I said quietly when the silence felt too heavy.
“Tell me how you’re feeling.”
I stared at the doctor I’d gotten to know a lot better over the last few years and knew her question came from a place of concern, but I didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t know.”
“Okay.” She patted my knee. “Are you crying a lot?”
“Yeah,” I admitted.
“Do you know why?” she asked.
“I’m sad.” I shook my head. “I think, except I don’t feel that way all the time. Sometimes I feel nervous, and sometimes I feel fine.” I stared at my friend. “Does that make sense?”
“It does.” She nodded. “Does anything help you feel better?”
“I drank a lot last night and finally felt a little like myself.”
“But…” She encouraged me to continue.
“When I woke up this morning, I felt awful but not just hangover awful.”
“Okay,” she continued. “How are you sleeping?”
I shrugged. “Not great.”
