He’s scared. More scared than he’s ever been in his life. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t shake the image of Tessie in that hospital bed.
Blood-soaked sheets. Her pale face. Her soft whisper of warning. She went limp before he knew what was happening. He barely had time to grab up his son before every person in the room jumped into action and hustled him out of the delivery room.
Now he waits. Fury, worry boiling over, his head and his heart already gone. He wants to hit something, kill someone. He can’t see his son. He has no goddamn idea how Tessie is.
A squeak from Melody has him glancing up. Doctor Banai stands in the waiting room.
He rockets out of his seat. “How’s my—” He stops himself. Hates himself. Hates that she’s still not his wife. Getting over the lump in his throat, he manages, “How’s my Tessie? How’s my son?”
“The baby’s fine,” the doctor says, her tone soft. “We took him to the NICU to get checked over, but right now, there are no complications. You have a healthy baby boy.”
Solomon sucks in a sharp breath, letting the news settle. “And Tessie?” He barely recognizes his voice. Anguished. Ready for the grave.
Doctor Banai clears her throat, then says, “Solomon, her placenta tore after delivery. She hemorrhaged.” A round of gasps goes up in the room. “Her blood pressure dropped. She’s in shock.”
“Fuck,” Howler says, sounding panicked.
The frightened look Ash gives him has Solomon wanting to jump out of his skin.
“What does that mean?” he asks, tearing a frustrated fist through his hair.
“We need to take her to emergency surgery to repair the hemorrhage, but that means we need blood. Tessie’s A-positive.” Her face grave, Doctor Banai looks around the waiting room. “We’re low on blood. With this storm, I don’t know if we can wait for it to be flown in.” After listing the types of blood Tessie can receive, she says, “We can test if you don’t know, but we have to do it now. We don’t have a lot of time. If we don’t treat her quickly. . .”
Melody’s sob breaks the stunned silence of the moment.
Christ no.
No.
Solomon hears the unsaid—what happens if Tessie doesn’t get that blood. If they can’t find it. If it takes too long.
The waiting room blurs around him. An awful roaring in his ears prevents him from hearing the low murmurs of his friends and family, while Solomon battles the urge to absolutely lose it.
Legs giving out, he collapses into a chair again, closes his eyes, and tries to breathe.
A hand clamps down on his shoulder. Howler.
God, he can’t do this again. Lose the woman he loves. It can’t happen.
“I’m A-positive,” a crisp voice says.
When he opens his eyes, Evelyn is rising out of her chair.
“Are you sure?” Jo asks.
Their mother’s eyebrows shoot up. “How do you know that?”
“Because I never failed to get less than an A plus in school,” Evelyn replies. She looks at Solomon and then the doctor. “I have my Red Cross card in my purse. I’ll go. I’ll donate.”
Relief rushes through Solomon.
“Go,” Ash urges, her voice teary, her head buried in Howler’s chest. “Please go now.”
Evelyn pushes past Solomon, stopping only briefly to squeeze his hand. “It’ll be okay,” she assures, her voice cool with calm.
All he can manage is a numb nod.
“Drain me dry, doc,” Evelyn says, and then she disappears around the corner.
He can’t sit here. Helpless. Waiting. He can’t fucking stand it.
With that, his heartbeat dangerously close to flatlining, Solomon shoves up out of his chair and moves in the direction of the exit doors and into the rising dawn.
Outside the hospital entrance, Solomon’s breath puffs white in the air in front of his face. It’s freezing, but he makes no move to warm himself. Doesn’t stuff his hands in his pockets, doesn’t hunker down against the frigid wind. He doesn’t deserve warmth, not when Tessie’s fighting for her life.
Hand smearing down his face, he tries to breathe steady when everything inside him is a tight ball of fear. It feels like he’s falling off the edge of the earth, watching everything he loves slip away.
All these responsibilities he never thought he’d have—now they’re all he wants.
Tessie woke him up. Made him love again. Gave him a son.
He can’t exist without her.
Dawn is on the horizon. Only a few stars glitter in the early-morning light.
“Fuck you,” he tells it, his face tilted toward the vast emptiness above him.
The universe is laughing at him. He didn’t have time with Serena, and he won’t have time with Tessie.
To lose her, after all this. . .
Unthinkable.
Fuck Chinook. Fuck the snow and his selfish self for asking Tess to stay. Fuck this small-town hospital when she could be in LA, safe and healthy and holding her son.
Her son. The mental image of Tessie not waking up, of never holding Bear again, of their son never knowing his mother. . .
Solomon squeezes his eyes shut, willing the dark thoughts away.
A rustle of noise behind him, but he doesn’t bother turning.
“We drew straws.” Howler settles beside him, lifting the collar of his wool-lined jacket to block out the wind. “To see who’d come piss you off.”
Solomon drags a hand down his beard. “Go inside, Howler.”
“And let you wallow all by yourself? Ain’t gonna happen, man.”
A long silence passes as they stare at the sky. The sunrise is a brilliant blast of pinks and purples that’d put Mexico to shame.
“I can’t lose her.” His voice cracks, pain lacing every word. “I can’t.”
“I know.” Howler shoves his hands in his pockets. “You won’t.”
“I should’ve—”
“Don’t,” his friend interrupts. “You got that same look on your face as you did with Serena. You’re blaming yourself. You do that, I take you out back and kick you into a snowbank.” He claps a hand on Solomon’s shoulder, squeezes. “She’ll be okay. You can’t keep Goldilocks down. You see her with that drill and those heels?”
Solomon chuckles, wipes his wet eyes.
“You got a son in there.” Howler jerks his head toward the automatic doors. “He needs you. Tessie will too. Come on. Come back inside.”
Solomon drags in a breath, sucking icy air down into his lungs. “I need a minute.”
Howler watches him, releases his shoulder, and disappears inside.
“Please,” Solomon begs the sky. Serena. “You got me into this mess. You fix it. Fix her.” Anguished, he buries his face in his hands, his breath a warm pulse against his palms. “Christ. Please.”
Dropping his hands, he tilts his head back once more. “You’re up there, and if you got pull, you save her. You save my Tessie.”
He lets out one last breath. Says goodbye to Serena.
And goes back inside.
A day without Tessie, and Solomon’s barely living. Running on fumes. Coffee. Visits from friends and family. His son.
Tessie’s hand is cool in his. She’s too pale, too small and fragile in the hospital bed. This bright, golden beam of a woman who lit up his life. Tubes feed into her veins. Her tan from Mexico is gone, her lips ashen. Christ, how he wishes they were back on that beach, Tessie cracking jokes about his flannel. If he knew then what he knows now, he never would have brought her to Chinook. He’d keep her safe and warm in the sun.
“You need to wake up, Tess,” he says around the lump in his throat. “Meet your son. Come back to us.”
Getting nothing but the chirp of monitors, Solomon sighs. He lifts her slack hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “Baby, please,” he whispers against her cool skin. “Please wake up. I love you. I need you.”
He’s not above begging. Getting on his knees again like he’s done so often in the last twenty-four hours. He wants to tell Tessie about their son. How the baby is strong and stubborn like she is. How despite being early, he’s healthy as hell, has no need for the NICU. How he cries so much his tiny wail is the strongest in the nursery. How it’s because he wants his mother. The baby knows it, and Solomon does too.
They need her back.
The soft crack of the door.