“Daddy, wake up!” I hear the pout in the tone, and I battle with the grip inside my head, fight through that damn fog to get my eyes open. “Daddy, we gotta make some Lego!”
WAKE UP, KOLT!
My son needs me. He’s here. He needs me. I won’t leave again, I won’t be away from him another fucking second. WAKE UP!
“It’s okay baby,” That sweet voice, like music batters through the remaining fog. My Ness. The sweetest trouble. “Daddy’s just sleeping right now.”
No. Don’t leave.
I feel the weight of my son begin to lift.
No. No. No.
I somehow manage to gain control of my limbs, letting my hands find my son as I hold him down, keeping him with me, like he’s the tether and I’m pulling myself back to earth.
“Legos?” My voice is raw, and I struggle to make my vocal cords work through the rough sand papery texture, “We gotta make Legos, huh, buddy?”
My eyes feel as if they’re being held down by lead.
“You’re awake.” She breathes, the crack in her voice snapping something vital inside of me.
I just need to see her face, see that she is with me. That they are both with me.
Finally, I pry my eyes open, and she is the first thing I see, “Hello, trouble.”
Her whiskey colored eyes bounce around my face, swimming in tears that turn them the color of molten gold and then a sob cracks through the silence and her hands grip the railing at the edge of the bed, as if it’s the only thing to keep her upright.
I open my mouth to speak, to get her to me, to hold her and never let go but there’s a sudden flurry of movement as a man in a white coat demands space.
“Mr. Avery,” He says, a torch shining between my eyes.
Vanessa takes a step back, gently lifting Ethan from the bed as a nurse joins the doctor and starts taking my vitals. She standsaway from me, her sister at her side while she cradles Ethan closely and watches intently.
I don’t listen to a word they are saying, only catching certain words since my attention is focused on her and my son. Tears silently roll down her cheeks and now I'm more aware, I notice the dark rings around her eyes, like deep purple bruises. Her hair is limp and unwashed, skin pale and her nails have been chewed down to the point they look as if they’ve been bleeding.
Imogen keeps a hand on her, and I drag my eyes away, finding her brother-in-law standing close to the window, concern etched into his face as he watches the two women in his life.
Vanessa looks sick. Worn down.
How long have I been out for? What the fuck happened?
When the doctors are finally done poking and prodding me, they note something in the chart at the end of the bed and tell me I’ll be staying in for a further twenty-four to forty-eight hours for observation and advise they’ll call my brothers.
Silence falls after they leave, closing the door with a soft click.
“Imogen,” I croak, “Would you mind taking Ethan out?”
Her eyes flick between me and her sister, but reluctantly, she nods, reaching for her nephew. Vanessa hesitates, but lets him go, and once they’re out of the room, she steps further back, her spine hitting the wall.
For long minutes we stare at each other, and I see much clearer just how exhausted she looks.
Her throat works with a swallow and fresh tears spill from her eyes. “Come here.” I order softly.
Her head works with a quick shake.
“Trouble. Come. Here.” I pronounce each word with demand, forcing her to move toward me.
She stops a foot from the bed, uncertainty stamped all over her face, a war going on inside of her that she needs to let me into so I can battle it for her.
