Emergency room is all I hear. "Precaution," she repeats, but I swallow my terror and rush to get him in his car seat. I shouldn't have gone out. I'm a bad, horrible mother. Tears rush my eyes when he's strapped in and I have to leave him in the back to drive.
The next thirty minutes are the longest of my life, but I blink away the waterworks to focus on the road. Fear cripples me when we arrive, and the nurse takes JT from my arms to place my little guy in a big metal crib, sticking a black stethoscope to his chest.
I'm so afraid. He's my everything, everything. His fever spikes despite medication. They rush to cool him down, tossing out words like dehydrated and seizure. I can't, I just can't think, and a strange numbing sensation flows over me like it did the night Justin died. I reach for my purse before I realize why, before I know it's because I can't do this alone. And I don't have to. I have someone who cares. I know he does.
I fumble for my cell and call Caden. It rings and rings and just before switching to voicemail it clicks over to a connection.
A sob erupts from my throat as I cry, "I need you. Caden, please, I'm sorry, it's-"
Leah sighs. "He's worn out, Piper. Cade just fell asleep, but let me try to wa-"
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at the receiver while what little air remained in my lungs evaporates. They . . . he . . . with Leah? Oh, God. Pain settles in my chest, but I let shock take over completely. On autopilot, my finger disconnects, and I wake Maisie at seven a.m. Eastern time by sobbing out my story. Before I finish freaking, she says, "I'm getting on a plane." I don't ask how or where she'll get the money-I just thank divine intervention she's in my life.
Hours of waiting and tests finally produce the doctor and a diagnosis-severe respiratory illness. "We're admitting him for fluids and a breathing treatment," the doctor says. "Is there anyone you'd like to call?"
I stare at her crisp white coat and the red embroidery on the pocket: Dr. Morris. My eyes fill to the brink and the letters blur. "Is there anyone you would like to call, Mrs. Stevens?"
"Ms. Stevens," I correct, shaking my head and loosening a tear. "And no, there's no one at home waiting for me."
Dear Justin.
When I was seven years old, my parents left me with Mrs. Helen. They disappeared for days without a goodbye or an explanation to their only child. Their absence should have scared me, but instead I found solace without constant criticism and freedom in the silence.
And that was when I learned I don't need anyone.
x Piper
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dr. Strangelove
Caden
EVERYTHING HURTS. PAIN shoots through my thigh and settles into a dull ache. For the life of me I can't remember what fucking exercise I did yesterday to set that shit off. And then the fog lifts, and the sun registers as an intense light against my lids. I fucked up. Piper, Bear and Garrison, Cara and Dax, traitor-the whole night creeps into my consciousness until I think I'm going to vomit. Fucking alcohol.
Add the damp sand at my back, and my whole body questions why I thought sleeping outside was a good idea. Damn if I know. Anything sounds like a good idea after downing near a fifth of Jameson. Note to self-don't drink whiskey with tequila chasers. Bad idea. And it wasn't mine. Leah has a penchant for Patron. I moan and turn my head, struggling to open my eyes against the bright white of mid-morning. The surf is awake even if I'm wishing I wasn't. It pounds against the beach in rhythmic waves, much like my head.
"How are you feeling, sailor?"
I shield my eyes with my hand and look up. Leah faired the storm better than me. With her hair pulled back and make-up removed, she's fresh-faced and enjoying a steaming cup of coffee. I look at the house behind her. Dax waves his own mug and motions me inside. My stomach curls at the thought of putting anything but a sausage McMuffin in it. But my hangover cure is five miles out of town on the way to Brandon when all I want to do is go home, talk to Piper, and then sleep for ten days.
Air catches in my lungs. I think she ended us last night. I can see her in my mind outside of Riley's, hurt and determined. But no matter how pissed she may be, I won't let my stupidity ruin everything we've built.
Even as I think the thought, Justin's face comes to mind and bile churns in my gut. Fuck. I pull myself into a sitting position, drawing my knees up to my chest against the better judgment of my screaming muscles. The campfire Bear built in the sand glows bright red as coals take their last stand and then fizzle out. "Why don't you feel as shitty as I do?"