“Well, I’m not! I’m not happy!”
He snapped like he always did when Rachel screamed at him, pushed him. Always backing him into a corner. They rounded a sharp turn and he saw an instant too late he was going too fast to make it, and then they weren’t on the road anymore.
Trees on both sides. Nowhere to go. The screeching of metal losing the battle against wood. When he’d come to, he was in the woods, the front end of his Mazda molded around a tree. His legs alternated between a burning fire and no feeling at all. Rachel moaned beside him, her head lolled to the side. A thin line of blood trickled from her forehead down to the tip of her nose.
And then there was nothing.
Over the next days, he’d drifted through a morphine haze, waking to voices of family members and hands of nurses.
The seatbelts and airbags had saved them, reducing certain death to only minor injuries. Except for his leg. It seemed unreal. It felt like he was moving both feet, both legs. But he wasn’t. Because from five inches below his right knee, one leg was gone. The shock of it overrode everything else until the door opened and Rachel walked in. He knew she was okay—his mother had told him that days ago—but he didn’t want to see anyone. Didn’t want her pity.
Good thing, because he didn’t get it.
Her gaze fell to the sheet covering the lower half of his body and remained there a long while before finally raising to meet his eyes. And it all came rushing back. Those last seconds. The road. The news. Rachel didn’t move closer, but he felt her energy like a bomb seconds from detonation.
“I’m not pregnant anymore,” she’d blurted, her eyes angry. “Did you know that?”
No. He hadn’t known.
“So, you got what you wanted. I hope you’re happy now.”
Happy? No. Just sick at all that had happened in an instant. All that had been lost. And even sicker looking into Rachel’s accusing eyes.
She turned to go, then stopped at the door and seared him with one last look. She shook her head slowly. “You don’t deserve a family.” Her tone was harsh, unforgiving. Not that he was asking for any.
He was alive and the baby, the child he hadn’t wanted, was dead.
Chapter 15
JT held Casey up for a clear view of the 3-D printing machine. She literally vibrated with excitement as she watched what looked like a robotic arm make the mold for her new prosthesis right before her eyes. She’d had a laser-guided scan for the most precise fitting a couple of hours ago. With that information, the computer was building the mold. Next, a clear sheet of thermoplastic would be heated and vacuum-formed around that mold to make a test socket.
“And after this it’s ready?”
“Not quite. After we make sure it fits, we’ll make the real one.”
“The purple part?”
“Yes.” For the socket, she’d chosen black polypropylene with specs of purple that glittered in the light.
Casey had miraculously run out of questions five minutes ago and was now content to watch. He was content, too, as he adjusted her in his arms. He’d done better with her today than he would have thought. She’d eaten and laughed and hadn’t cried for Paige even once.
Month after month, as Lynn’s unborn child grew, so had his guilt and regret over the child he’d lost and the man he hadn’t been. He’d assumed it’d be the same with Casey, but it wasn’t. Instead, he was filled with an overwhelming sense of protectiveness, even pride.
A door opened and closed behind him, and he turned to see Lynn ambling toward him.
“Hey. You okay?”
“No. I’m going into labor and came to find you.” She rolled her eyes at his panicked expression and reached down to pet Boulder on the head. “I’m kidding. I was looking for you, though, but I see you’re busy. Who’s this?”
“This is Casey. Casey, this is Lynn.” He’d told her about Casey and that he was reworking her prosthetic leg, but that didn’t explain why he had her here in the lab with him.
Casey finally tore her gaze from the machine and found something else interesting. “Hi. You’re going to have a baby!”
“Yes, I am.” Lynn patted Casey’s little back, smiling even as her eyes filled. “Hush,” she told him before he could comment. “It’s hormones.”
“I love babies,” Casey went on. “I never held one, but I love them. They’re like kittens. Maybe I can hold yours.” She cupped her hands together like she was holding water.
Lynn gathered herself and rubbed Casey’s back again. “You are just the sweetest thing.”
“Thank you. We’re making my new leg, and it’s gonna be like Jake’s except more sparkly because he’s a boy. I’m going to name it.”