“Thank you, Doctor.” Ciara replied.
Once they left, I sat down and pulled my baby back into my arms, holding her as close as I could while we waited.
I looked down at Ciara, who was leaning against me, holding her side from the pain I’d just been nursing her for.
“You sure you don’t want to go home until we hear something?”
“Hell no. I’m not leaving my best friend here. I know that physically she is fucked up, but mentally she is worse. Shit, I am, and half of that shit didn’t even happen to me.”
She replied, laying her head back on my chest.
Before I could respond, a nurse walked up to us wearing baby-pink scrubs with little bears printed all over them.
“Hi, I’m here for baby Jenkins.”
Crew jumped up from his seat.
“I’m her dad. How is she doing?”
“She’s doing just fine. You can come back and see her if you want. She can benefit from some parental touch while they work on mom.”
“Okay, just lead the way.”
“One more person can go back with you if you would like. We can allow two visitors at a time.”
Ciara stood up just as fast as Crew had.
“I will go, Crew, if it’s okay.”
“Of course it is, Ci.”
“Great, I’ll be back, baby.” Ciara kissed me on my lips.
“Alright, mama. I’ll be out here.”
“Please be baby. I want you here tonight. I don’t feel like worrying about you.”
I nodded my head and she followed Crew down the hallway to see the baby. As much as I wanted to leave and go to war right now, I knew I had to stay right where they left me.
Tonight, we have to make sure Pernelle, and the baby are straight. War can wait for tomorrow.
Chapter 4
Bria
The next morning
Every few seconds, my eyes were drifting to my phone screen, as if staring harder might make Crew’s name pop up, but it didn’t. He was still missing in action, leaving me wondering what went wrong.
All day, I replayed our interactions in my head, wondering if I had missed something. Was I wrong when I felt like Crew liked me, or was I too pushy because I wanted him too much? I’d asked myself so many questions I knew I was spiraling and sitting in this house was going to have me leaving him a voicemail soon.
I threw on an Alo sweatsuit, laced up a pair of old sneakers, and headed out to the park to try and make myself feel better by working out. I hadn’t worked out in years because running was never my thing and it always felt unnecessary, like a punishment I didn’t deserve, but I know sitting in that apartment waiting on a call was worse.
Manhattan Park was quiet during winter, with snow clinging to the edges of the paths, packed down where people had already jogged for the day. The sidewalks were slick in somespots while crunchy in others, so I prayed I wouldn’t come out here and hurt myself physically while trying to feel some mental relief.
The moment I started running, the cold slapped me in my face, and my legs began to burn fast. Shoot, too fast, and that is exactly why I don’t like to run.
I pushed through the pain anyway, probably faster than I should’ve, because I felt like I was chasing something or even running from it in that sense. I only stopped running when my calves started screaming, and I felt winded, so I sat on a bench long enough to catch my breath, then I started running again.
