Twitch moved slowly, and then he was at my side. His eyes never leaving mine, and with firm but gentle hands, he went about prying my son out of my arms.
It took me a second to react. Affronted, my lip curled as I recognized what he was doing. I tried to step back, but his free arm held me around the waist. “Let go.”
Why didn’t he get it?
I couldn’t.
I just couldn’t.
We struggled as he attempted to take my son from me. “No.”
And when he said what he said, my entire body weakened. “You’ll get him back this time, angel. I promise. Just let go.”
My fear spoken out loud, my breath left me all at once. Grief struck me hard like a punch to the gut.
In my declining state, he managed to force our son from me, and as I lifted my head and cried openly, my knees wobbled, but he held me tight. I heard him say, “Take him,” and I watched as the nurses took my son.
They took him from me a second time in as many days.
And I did the only thing I could at that moment.
I cried.
I cried my heart out.
“Antonio Julius Falco.”
The moment his name was called, I shot out of Twitch’s lap and rushed over to the fairly young doctor. Where I found the energy was anyone’s guess. “Yes. That’s me.”
I turned back to Twitch and couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes. Momentarily, I felt awful. In my manic state, I had forgotten about how he must be feeling. He had done such a good job of looking after me that I neglected to remember that this was not about me. It was about us. And perhaps, my usually strong man needed solace in my arms as much as I needed comfort from his.
Taking a small step back, I slipped my cold hand into his, held his eyes, and amended my statement. “That’s us.” I turned back to the doctor. “We’re his parents.”
“I’m Doctor Prahesh.” The doctor watched us both closely a second. “Your son was given a fairly high dose of Phenergan. The amount he was given has led to an overdose. We’ve administered activated charcoal. We use this to treat poisoning. What this does is stop any further absorption in the gut and trap the toxins to be expelled otherwise.” He looked over at Twitch. “Antonio has been placed in ICU.” The conversation took a turn when the doctor’s lips thinned, and he admitted, “We were hoping to see some kind of result by now, but so far, there’s no change in his vitals.” My gut sank as he went on. “His breathing is what we’re most concerned about.”
My heart thumped as I tried to make sense of what he was saying.
“But he hasn’t worsened.” I squeezed Twitch’s hand. “That’s something, right?”
Typical Lexi. Always looking for a silver lining.
Doctor Prahesh agreed, “Most definitely.” He looked between us, a pair of panicked parents, and took pity, as he uttered, “You’re welcome to sit with him if you like.”
“Yes,” I said immediately as my tight shoulders drooped. “We’d like that.”
It wasn’t past my notice that Twitch’s hand was as clammy as it was. His jaw tight, he nodded, and his whiskey-smooth voice sounded far too gravelly for my liking. “Lead the way.”
And as if the world was against us being with our son, the voice coming from behind stopped us with a sharp, “Antonio Falco.” The both of us spun around to find Sergeant Gabriel Blanco wearing a tight expression, and it was focused solely on Tony. When he spoke again, he didn’t bother with niceties. “I need you to come with me.”
Twitch looked the man up and down. His tone was purely bored, as he replied, “What for?”
“A woman is dead. I need a statement.”
Gabe, the man I’d had coffee with a dozen times, the man who consoled me through the absence of my son, peered at my husband as though he was a piece of shit. And, for the life of me, I couldn’t help myself.
I slipped my hand out of Twitch’s and slid in front of him, a human barricade. My eyes full of rage, I ignored the staccato beat of my heart and stepped toward the sergeant. “That monster poisoned my son, Gabe. She poisoned him, and I don’t know if he’s going to wake up.” My voice was deceptively calm as I tried in vain to steady my breathing. My hands shook when I forced the words out. “You want a statement? Okay. I’ll give one.” Looking Gabriel Blanco deep in the eyes, I didn’t stutter as I let the accusation fly. “All the resources in the world, and you couldn’t do in days what my family managed in one night.” Oh, they could try all right, but nobody was coming for us. No way, no how. “Tonight of all nights.” I shook my head lightly. “Shame on you, Sergeant Blanco.”
A moment of silence went by, and the longer the moment lasted, I could see Gabe Blanco question himself. And I was glad for it.
Taking Twitch’s hand once more, I looked at Gabe but spoke to my man. “Come on, honey.” My voice was drab, dry. “We should be there when he wakes up.”
As we walked away from our impending doom, Gabe called out, “You can’t run from this. I’ll be back.”
His fiery statement didn’t scare me.
We weren’t running.
The villain in our fairytale had finally been vanquished, once and for all.
No. We were done with running.
Twitch pulled me into his side and pressed a soft kiss to my brow. I placed my hand on his chest and sighed deeply, lovingly, as we walked closer and closer to the glue that held us together.
Our son.
The silence came as a reprieve, and right then, I came to realize the only place we would run to in the future was each other’s arms.
Because we belonged together and nothing could keep us apart.
***
Twitch It had been twenty-four hours.
I was officially freaking the fuck out. And as Lexi slept in the chair in the corner of the room, I lay by my son on the narrow hospital bed, observing the tubes coming out of his mouth and nose, wondering how I had managed to put the person I loved more than life itself into this position.
Guilt was a fairly new emotion for me. I didn’t love it; that was for sure.
I was desperate.
And so I begged.
“You gotta wake up, bud.” You gotta because I can’t live with the shame. “Just open your eyes.” Please. “Your mom needs you.” I need you. “Please, buddy.” I shut my eyes tightly and swallowed hard, as I whispered, “I’m so sorry, son.”
I cried silently so as not to wake her.
It was the least I could do in this shitstorm I formed.
***
Lexi “What are you doing?” I asked as Doctor Prahesh moved around A.J.’s bedside and surveyed the respirator that was keeping my son alive.
He pressed buttons on the machine and stayed silent a while before responding. “I think it’s time to see how A.J. goes about breathing on his own.”
Twitch was suddenly not sleeping anymore. He sat up, blinking drowsily. “Say what now?”
“What?” My mind fizzled a moment before it completely blacked out. “You want to turn off the one thing keeping my son alive?” I couldn’t have scoffed even if I wanted to. I leaned into him, frowning, and seethed, “Over my dead body.”
“Doc.” Twitch frowned. “I get this is your job and all, but—nah.”
But Doctor Prahesh didn’t see the seriousness in this situation. Instead, he smiled kindly. “I know this is difficult for you both, but A.J.’s vitals have improved considerably. His color has returned. His fever has subsided. And now, I’d like to compare his breathing to when he first came in. But I can’t do that if we don’t take him off the respirator.”
Parents were supposed to know what to do in these situations. They were meant to be strong and have a plan and trust their doctors. But as Tony and I glanced at each other, we wore matching expressions of uncertainty, and his uncertainty fuelled my own to levels a parent should not have had.
Nobody spoke a while.
“Do it,” Twitch said, and my eyes widened in shock.
My mouth parted lightly. “What? No!”
Twitch shuffled to the edge of the seat. “Baby, they can’t keep him on it forever.” His expression softened, and I swear there was a distinct sadness in his eyes. “Got to let him fall so he can fly on his own.”
It was a beautiful sentiment spoken at the wrong time.