Say You Want Me(65)

I feel like I’m dying inside.

I’ve failed her and our daughter.

Seconds turn to minutes which fade to hours. Time passes, and I feel as if I’m petrifying.

Each time the door opens, my heart stops.

Each time they talk to another family, my heart breaks.

“I can’t sit here!” I stand, needing to move. “I can’t wait for them to tell me.” I’m shattering. I can feel it. A pained sound rips from my throat, and Trent embraces me. “I can’t wait for her to die!”

“Don’t think like that. You have to be strong. You have to have faith, brother.”

Faith.

Presley releases a sob at that word, knowing damn well that’s what Angie wants to name our little girl.

“I need her to be okay. I have to talk to her.”

Trent grips my shoulders. “I know. The doctors are working on her. No news is good news, Wyatt. It means she’s fighting.”

I look at him with blurry vision. “I can’t lose her like this.” If I say it enough, maybe the world will understand—maybe I can will it to be true.

“They’ll do everything they can,” my oldest brother says with conviction.

“It was my fault. I was driving that fucking car. I wanted to take the truck, but she said she hated climbing in and out of it. So, I let her convince me to take her car! Now, look where we are! Now look. I should’ve taken the truck when I saw it was raining. I should’ve done something!”

“This isn’t your fault.” My father comes toward us. “I know you’re a man and that you want to own this, but this is not your fault. And no matter what happens, you can’t be thinkin’ that way. Understand?”

I know he means well. But if it were him behind the wheel of that car and my mother was fighting for her life and the life of their unborn baby, he’d be feeling the same. That woman is who I love. That baby is my child. I know I’ve never met her, but I want her more than anything. I want for Angie and Faith to be in my arms—safe—and know how much I care.

I love them.

I will do anything to protect them. If I could be on that table, I would trade places in an instant. Instead, I’m out here, walking around. It should be me—not her.

Before I can answer, the doors swing open. Two doctors in blue scrubs, with sweaty faces and specks of blood on them, walk through.

My body tenses, Presley and my mother flank me. Their hands grab mine as we wait for them to speak. I’m typically the calm in the storm, but right now, my emotions are the outer walls of the funnel. I’m trying not to get swept away.

“Angelina Benson’s family?” The doctor on the right says as they walk closer.

“How is she?” I ask.

He sighs. “She’s sustained a lot of injuries. The most critical was her spleen. Luckily, we identified it quickly and were able to get the bleeding under control. She has a fractured wrist and multiple contusions along her right side from where the car crushed inward, plus a fractured rib and her nose was broken, most likely from the impact with the airbag. But we’re most concerned about the concussion. The CT shows some organ swelling, which we’re keeping an eye on.”

“The baby?” My voice shakes. “Is our baby okay?”

The doctors look at each other and shift their weight. “Unfortunately . . .”

I stop hearing his words as my heart shatters.

I’ve lost my daughter.

I fall to my knees as the world as I know it dies. I’ve lost one. I’ve lost them both.

“We delivered the baby by Cesarean. We tried, but the placenta ruptured in the accident. The baby didn’t make it.”

My mother wails, but my father holds her together.

I’m numb. My tears fall down my face as Presley wraps her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Wyatt.”

“She—” I choke as I look up at her. “Did she . . . the baby? Suffer?”

The older doctor shakes her head. “No, the baby never drew a breath. We did our best, but we were unable to do anything.”

I nod.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” the female doctor says.

Loss is too easy of a word. I didn’t lose her . . . she was taken from me. Taken from her parents before she even got to see us. She didn’t know she was wanted. She didn’t know our faces or the depths of the love we already had for her.

She didn’t know. I didn’t lose my daughter.

She was ripped from my life.

“Can I see her?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize it.

The woman gives me a sad smile. “Of course.”

“Wyatt?” Presley grabs my arm. “Do you . . . I mean . . . we can . . .” She stumbles over her words.