stomach.
“I don’t know if she’s running such a high fever from the incision area or if she has an infection from not having all of her placenta removed.
He slowly raises her pants back up situating them below her wound. “I don’t think the placenta is the problem. That is normally an issue with a vaginal birth.” He reaches up and adjusts the flow on her IV. “I’m giving her a pretty high dose of antibiotics. If her fever doesn’t break in the next four hours, you’ll need to get her to the hospital.”
“Got it, Doc,” Kincaid says from the door. I turn to look at him, grateful he’s still here.
“She may have just overdone herself. You said she’s four days post-partum?” He turns from facing her to look at me.
“Yes,” I answer. “I assume she had the baby in Denver, but I’m not exactly certain. We didn’t get to talk much before she passed out.”
“Is she nursing?” He asks pointing to the wet spots forming near her breasts through her shirt.
I scrub my hand down my face. “I have no clue,” I say with exasperation. I have no idea what’s going on right now.
“The antibiotics I gave her won’t harm the baby,” he says standing from the bed. “I also gave her some IV pain meds.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small bottle of pills and hands it to me. “And these are for after. That infection is pretty bad. She’s got to be in terrible pain. The hospital should’ve given her something.” He looks back at her in disappointment.
Her skin is no longer the milky peach color it was the last time I saw her. She’s pale and has dark circles under her eyes. She doesn’t look at all like the woman I’ve been struggling to get out of my mind for the last several months. She looks frail and almost unrecognizable. My fingers itch to reach out to her, comfort her. Then I remember what she’s been hiding for the better part of the last year, and I feel my rage begin to bubble up again.
“Hopefully, she hasn’t taken them all already,” he says softly, referring to the meds he’s certain the hospital would have given her.
I want to correct him. The last thing Misty would do is abuse fucking prescription medication. I stop myself, because at the end of the day, what do I really know about her?
He can see the anger in my eyes at his suspicion. “Just keep an eye on those. She can have one every four hours.” He slaps me on the back and walks to Kincaid, who is still hovering in the doorway.
I pocket the bottle of pills. A tiny whimper pulls my eyes away from Misty. I look over and see Emmalyn with the baby. I don’t even know his name. I feel like an asshole for not asking, but this situation is kind of fucked up. The math is right. I know it’s a possibility that he’s mine, but I just can’t wrap my head around the whole thing.
Misty isn’t a whore on any level. She told me when we were together after the reception that she hadn’t been with anyone since the last time we were together, months before. I believed her then, and I have no reason to think she’s lying now.
“Motherfucker,” I say getting lost in my head again.
I realize I’m just staring at him.
“Take him,” Em says shifting him slightly away from her body.
I hold my hands up, unsure of what to do. I have no baby experience. I’m certain if I touch him, I’ll break him somehow.
“I have to make his bottle,” she says with more insistence.
She cradles him in my arms, and I hold him close to me.
“I’ll be right back,” she says and leaves me in the room alone with him.
I slowly make my way to the armchair in the corner and sit down with him, terrified to be left responsible for such a delicate thing.
Chapter 11
My eyes flutter open, taking in the unfamiliar room. They widen even further when I remember the events leading up to now. I try to sit up in bed and wince at the pain in my stomach.
“Oh God,” I groan reaching out and holding my stomach. I see an IV taped to the
“I don’t know if she’s running such a high fever from the incision area or if she has an infection from not having all of her placenta removed.
He slowly raises her pants back up situating them below her wound. “I don’t think the placenta is the problem. That is normally an issue with a vaginal birth.” He reaches up and adjusts the flow on her IV. “I’m giving her a pretty high dose of antibiotics. If her fever doesn’t break in the next four hours, you’ll need to get her to the hospital.”
“Got it, Doc,” Kincaid says from the door. I turn to look at him, grateful he’s still here.
“She may have just overdone herself. You said she’s four days post-partum?” He turns from facing her to look at me.
“Yes,” I answer. “I assume she had the baby in Denver, but I’m not exactly certain. We didn’t get to talk much before she passed out.”
“Is she nursing?” He asks pointing to the wet spots forming near her breasts through her shirt.
I scrub my hand down my face. “I have no clue,” I say with exasperation. I have no idea what’s going on right now.
“The antibiotics I gave her won’t harm the baby,” he says standing from the bed. “I also gave her some IV pain meds.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small bottle of pills and hands it to me. “And these are for after. That infection is pretty bad. She’s got to be in terrible pain. The hospital should’ve given her something.” He looks back at her in disappointment.
Her skin is no longer the milky peach color it was the last time I saw her. She’s pale and has dark circles under her eyes. She doesn’t look at all like the woman I’ve been struggling to get out of my mind for the last several months. She looks frail and almost unrecognizable. My fingers itch to reach out to her, comfort her. Then I remember what she’s been hiding for the better part of the last year, and I feel my rage begin to bubble up again.
“Hopefully, she hasn’t taken them all already,” he says softly, referring to the meds he’s certain the hospital would have given her.
I want to correct him. The last thing Misty would do is abuse fucking prescription medication. I stop myself, because at the end of the day, what do I really know about her?
He can see the anger in my eyes at his suspicion. “Just keep an eye on those. She can have one every four hours.” He slaps me on the back and walks to Kincaid, who is still hovering in the doorway.
I pocket the bottle of pills. A tiny whimper pulls my eyes away from Misty. I look over and see Emmalyn with the baby. I don’t even know his name. I feel like an asshole for not asking, but this situation is kind of fucked up. The math is right. I know it’s a possibility that he’s mine, but I just can’t wrap my head around the whole thing.
Misty isn’t a whore on any level. She told me when we were together after the reception that she hadn’t been with anyone since the last time we were together, months before. I believed her then, and I have no reason to think she’s lying now.
“Motherfucker,” I say getting lost in my head again.
I realize I’m just staring at him.
“Take him,” Em says shifting him slightly away from her body.
I hold my hands up, unsure of what to do. I have no baby experience. I’m certain if I touch him, I’ll break him somehow.
“I have to make his bottle,” she says with more insistence.
She cradles him in my arms, and I hold him close to me.
“I’ll be right back,” she says and leaves me in the room alone with him.
I slowly make my way to the armchair in the corner and sit down with him, terrified to be left responsible for such a delicate thing.
Chapter 11
My eyes flutter open, taking in the unfamiliar room. They widen even further when I remember the events leading up to now. I try to sit up in bed and wince at the pain in my stomach.
“Oh God,” I groan reaching out and holding my stomach. I see an IV taped to the
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