I'm Only Here for the Beard (The Dixie Wardens Rejects MC #4)(53)

The little baby in her mother's hysterical arms.

I'll remember the sight for the rest of my life.

The little girl was nearly naked, the only thing covering her tiny body was a white diaper with a little yellow stripe up the middle.

One tiny leg and one tiny arm were flopping loosely in the near freezing night air. Likely when she'd been holding her, the blanket had been swaddling her little body. Now the hot pink blanket only accentuated how very pale the baby was.

The minute I was in reaching distance, I took the limp child from her mother's arms and ran to the ambulance.

It took me less than twenty seconds.

I placed the little girl down on the backboard, listened to the doors slam behind me, and started CPR.

***

I dropped down to my knees after leaving the ER's trauma bay, put my hands behind me head, and hunched my body in on itself.

I couldn't find any breath in my lungs. They were burning, right along with my eyes.

Tears threatened, and the only thing that was holding them back was the fact that I had an audience.

Had I been alone, they'd be flowing freely down my cheeks to disappear into my beard.

Even now, I wasn't sure whether I could make it back to the medic without breaking down.

Hell, I was in the middle of the damn ambulance entrance to the ER, and I couldn't find it in me to move.



       
         
       
        

"Sean," Naomi whispered. "Look at me, baby."

It took me a minute, but I finally managed to look up at her.

The harsh brightness from the lights lighting the ambulance bay hurt my eyes, but I looked anyway.

"She's going to make it," Naomi promised me again.

I swallowed, nodded, and then cleared my throat.

"Yeah," I licked my lips.

She was, or at least she had a very good chance.

It'd been two minutes into CPR that she started breathing.

That tiny little body had looked so very delicate laying on that adult sized backboard.

And the needles I had in the medic weren't small enough, so I hadn't been able to start an IV.

The baby was a week or two, at most, and had been born at a mere four pounds in the first place. Her parents guestimated her weight to be around five pounds due to a doctor appointment they'd had earlier in the week. The girl likely had never even been out of her parents' loving arms.

"The parents get here yet?" I asked roughly.

She nodded, pointing to a car that was parked haphazardly in the ER drop off.

"Just got here when you came out the side door."

I nodded my head almost automatically.

"Let's go."

I got up, ignoring the sympathetic glances from my colleagues, and got into the passenger seat.

Naomi, not even questioning this, got into the driver's seat, adjusted the settings, and put it into drive.

We arrived at the station five minutes later, and I was out and moving toward the door before she'd even put it into park.

I didn't bother to think she'd leave me be, though, which was why I left my bedroom door open before I took a seat on the bed and dropped my head into my hands.

My eye throbbed, but I didn't care.

I needed the pain. Needed the proof that I was going to continue to live.

"Was that your first baby?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"No," I muttered. "Fourth."

I remembered each and every time I had a call on an infant. Three of them hadn't made it. Two of them had died from SIDS, and one of them was an accidental drowning in the bathtub when her mother left her to check on the dinner that was cooking.

This little girl was lucky to be alive, and I was grateful that I didn't have to experience the loss of an infant patient for a fourth time.

"That was terrible," she murmured, pushing my hands lightly.

I took the hint and moved my arms, freeing up my lap, and she dropped into it, straddling me and wrapping me in her arms. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

I shuddered.

"I'll be okay," I muttered. "Just hits me hard."

She pressed a kiss to my temple, just above my stitches.

"So … does it hurt now?"

I bit my lip, then started to laugh lightly.

"Yeah, it hurts like a bitch."

Funnily enough, I wasn't sure if I was talking about my head or my heart.





Chapter 17


I just want to lay in a pile of warm laundry and eat bread.

-Text from Naomi to Sean

Sean

"Sean."

"Yeah, babe?" I asked, sitting back on my bike and holding it steady with just the power of my legs.

"Have you gotten to the store yet?"

I shook my head. "No. I met a buddy in the parking lot, and we got to BS-ing. What's up?"

I waved my friend off, someone I'd known since high school, and he gave me a two-finger salute before heading inside the grocery store to do his own shopping.