But as I sat there, and looked at my woman with her too pale face, I realized that I was going to have to make this decision whether I wanted to or not.
"Do it," I said.
And as they wheeled her away, I wanted to scream. To cry. To shout to the world about the injustice of it all.
I settled for walking down the hallway, turning quietly into the room that was being guarded by Aaron, and closing the door so softly behind me that it was only a whisper of a sound.
Aaron didn't stop me, either.
No, he felt my pain. He knew what was going through me right now. He realized that I was a loose cannon, and I needed an outlet for everything I was feeling, all the pain and the worry.
I walked quietly over to the bed. Stared down at Walton where he lay comfortably in the bed.
He was handcuffed to it, sure, but he didn't look like he was hurting.
No, he was hooked up to pain meds, had a fuckin' pillow under his goddamn head. He was fed and had the goddamn TV on, while Naomi was being taken to the operating room to have her insides repaired after losing our baby
And I just couldn't handle it all anymore.
I snapped my fist out, and punched him straight in the nose.
***
Three days passed, and on the third day, when I was getting anxious and worried that she wouldn't pull through this, the color started to return to her cheeks.
By that afternoon, her eyes were moving behind her lids.
But still she didn't wake.
"Need you to come get her outside. She had a setback, and I'm worried about her."
I turned my head to my father and stared.
"You think I give a good goddamn about that dog right now, Dad?" I asked. "Let her starve."
I felt light pressure on my forearm, and my eyes automatically flew to the bed.
"Be nice to Butterfinger," she ordered.
I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
Nothing but a sob, that was.
Chapter 24
The check engine light should be more specific. For instance, do I just need to check the gas cap, or do I need to stop right now so my engine doesn't explode?
-Naomi's secret thoughts
Naomi
Life wasn't the same after Sean and I lost the child we didn't even know about.
But it wasn't a bad different. Just not the same as it once had been.
Sean was scared.
He was scared to touch me. Scared to leave me. Scared to let me do my job.
He literally would've wrapped me up in bubble wrap if he thought he could get away with it.
I picked up my telephone and dialed my best friend, hoping she'd give me some advice that would help me deal with this crazy, overprotective man of mine.
It'd been four months since I'd lost our baby, and four months since I'd seen the same man that I'd been sitting next to a hospital bed with, discussing what we would name our child when he or she came.
The phone rang, and not five seconds later my best friend in the whole wide world answered with a frustrated, "Hello?"
The sound of a baby crying in the background made my heart pang.
"I need some help," I said without preamble. "Sean still won't touch me."
"What'd he do now?" she asked warily.
"It's what he won't do. I don't know what to do," I told my best friend. "He doesn't even look at me the same. He doesn't touch me unless it's to hug me, and when he hugs me, it's only long enough to act like he's not trying to get away from me."
I plunked backwards onto the bed, and watched my hot, bearded paramedic mow the front lawn.
Something had to give, and it wasn't going to be me.
She hummed, then cursed succulently. "Fuck you, cocksucker."
"Did you just call one of your kids a cocksucker?" I asked worriedly.
"No," she snapped. "It was Downy's fucking dog. She ate my banana bread!"
I snickered softly under my breath, and then couldn't help it, and busted a gut.
"Oh, God," I wiped tears from my eyes. "She didn't mean to."
"Didn't mean to my ass," she grumbled. "That bitch is a bitch, pure and simple. She watched me the entire time she leaned over my plate and ate it. She knew exactly what she was doing."
Downy's dog was a police K-9 officer and really was a good dog … when she wanted to be.
"Hey," she interrupted my laughing. "I heard that there's another litter of puppies from the same sire that Mocha came from."
My eyebrows lifted.
"Did you ask for his number like I asked you?" I asked hopefully.
"Yep," she confirmed. "And I also got the name of a woman who's married to a supreme badass. Guess what!"
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and frowned when I saw all of the dust on the blades of the ceiling fan. At least I can say that I've never seen the ceiling fan turned off, so how could I know it was dirty?