And with those words, every cell in my body sighs with relief. “Oh, thank God.” I latch onto Logan and hold my breath for what might come next.
The doctor, a younger man with a five o’clock shadow and intense dark eyes, looks right at me. “He’s not out of the woods just yet, but we’ll be monitoring him through the night, replenishing his fluids. We were able to drain his stomach pretty well, but the drug is still showing in his bloodstream. Scans all look good. You caught it just in time. Five more minutes and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He nods and turns to leave.
“How long will he be here?” I couldn’t help but ask. I want nothing more than to take my baby home with me.
“Three days at maximum, if all goes well. We’ll recheck liver levels again tonight, but we expect those to look better and better. He’s sedated, but they’re moving him to a room where you can be with him.”
Soon enough, we’re all shuttled to a different floor and I hold Nathan’s listless hand all the way up there, standing next to the gurney, as that monstrous sight penetrates deep into my mind. I never want to forget this horrible moment. I never want to put either of my children through this again.
In the evening, just as Nathan is coming out of his drugged stupor, a social worker interviews both Gage and me separately before calling us together into the hall. Her name is Susan Haskell, short pixie cut with coffee-colored eyes that look as if they’re kind enough if you’re on the right side of the law. And at the moment, I’m not sure if I am. Hell, I know I’m not.
“Skyla”—she reads my name off her notes as if I didn’t just repeat it a dozen times—“I’ll be stopping by the house tomorrow to evaluate the environment. Will there be someone home to let me in?”
My heart sinks as all the Landon madness flashes through my mind at once. That tiny room of mine with no space to move. Yes, it’s uncomfortable, but is it illegal? My God, what a horrific can of worms. That burning ache in the pit of my stomach makes me wonder if this will ever be over.
“Yes, someone will undoubtedly be home.”
“Good. If for whatever reason I feel there is cause for concern, I’ll be visiting your home, Gage. Will there be someone available to walk me through it?”
“My mother or my wife will be there.”
Knife in the gut. It never gets easier to hear that.
Logan picks up my hand and gives it a squeeze.I’m sorry.
I nod, acknowledging this. I’m sorry, too. More than anyone can ever know.
“Very well.” She snaps her book closed and tucks it into her briefcase. “Unfortunately, the sheriff’s department will have to take a statement from each of you. I believe there was an illegal substance at play. We’ll pair our findings and you’ll be apprised all along the way.”
She takes off and I look to Gage with the fear of God in my eyes.
“Please don’t take my babies.” The words come out low as I plead for my life.
Logan’s chest expands as he pulls me close. “He wouldn’t do that.”
Gage twists his lips as he watches Chloe head this way with a hand on her belly. Not only will she have her own child with Gage, but she might just get mine, too.
“It’s not up to me,” he says. “We’ll be lucky if we both don’t lose them.”
Chloe glides an arm around his waist, all of her wrath pouring out in my direction.
“Are you happy, Skyla? You wanted me dead, and now the only one who’s suffering is our baby boy.”
My stomach gives another violent twist.
Chloe steps in. “All you think about is yourself. Your husband, your revenge, your wounded ego. That’s exactly why the Factions are hurting. That’s why Gage left you to begin with. You only think about what’s best for you—what fits into your agenda.”
Gage’s jaw clenches. “That’s enough.”
But Chloe holds a hand up dismissively to her new spouse.
“You have zero regard for the safety of others. That’s why our people are draining from under you. That’s why Gage took off for greener pastures, and that’s why your baby boy was almost fitted for a coffin.”
“Chloe!” Logan barks.
My stomach pulsates once, hard, and I purge everything I’ve eaten in the last twenty-four hours at her feet. Logan shouts something at Chloe, at Gage, but I’m too lost in my bodily convulsions to pay attention.
Both Gage and I spend the night in the tiny room they place Nathan in. Right in front of the nurses’ station. They wouldn’t let Logan stay past visiting hours. I’m sick all night, vomiting, assuring the staff it’s just nerves. They test me for the flu, and thankfully, there’s no sign of it. Gage and I stay three long days, two solid nights just feet apart, acting like strangers. It’s as if he’s afraid to let his guard down with me anymore—afraid to reminisce about who we were for even a moment. The old us is dead to him.
