God I hope my daughter is asleep so she doesn’t see how red my eyes are. My thoughts halt as her screams hit me first as I shut the door behind me and I look up in pure fear to find mydaughter screaming on the bed, clutching her stomach while her babysitter, clutches her blonde hair in her hand while holding a phone in the other to her ear and my phone rings getting her attention.
“Oh, thank god,” she chokes as she puts her phone down, and I snap out of it and run into the room and demand, “What happened?”
“I-I don’t know,” Ange admits as I press my hand against my daughter's sweaty forehead, and panic hits at how hot she is and I know she needs a doctor.
“Mama,” she cries, and I gently shush her as I quickly pick her up, her cries getting louder as she tenses.
“One minute I was warming up the milk she asked for, and the next she was crying,” Ange says as she follows me out of the motel, then opens the passenger door for me, and I place my daughter inside, clicking her in as she screams, scrunching her legs up.
I could call an ambulance, but honestly, driving will be quicker. The hospital is only five minutes away, and thankfully, I know Logan won’t be working, he was at the funeral.
Granny mentioned he passed med school when I finally gave in and called her, and I was so fricking proud. I wish he were here right now, he’d know what to do, and the loneliness builds and builds as I climb into the driver's seat and speed off down the road, leaving the babysitter behind to lock up the motel room.
***
“I need some help, please,” I shout seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later, because yes, I timed it while I was trying to soothe my daughter but failing with the amount of pain she’s in.
My daughter's cries echo in the place, and several people look our way as I lock eyes with Doc, who frowns as he looks over me, and panic hits.
Crap, does he recognize me?
My daughter cries louder cutting through my stupid ass panic and my eyes tear up as I try to calm her, “It’s okay, bumblebee, you’re going to be okay…” before I look up to see a few nurses run my way, but dark grey eyes that I have missed so much lock with mine. My tears fall at the relief I feel despite the shock that etches his features before he looks at our daughter, and the shock fades into anger and betrayal which hurts so much.
Aisling screams louder, and I clutch her to me and choke, “Logan, please,” and he quickly rushes over, moving the nurses out of the way and it’s only then that I realize he's wearing his shirt and slacks from the funeral over his white coat.
He takes her from me, our fingers just touching, sending sparks through me, and I look at my daughter as she cries, “Mama…” and tries to get back to me and I swallow back a sob.
“Shh, sweet girl, I’m going to look after you,” Logan whispers as he carries her over to a bed that a nurse brought over, and I follow as Doc asks, “What’s her name?”
My bottom lip wobbles as I admit, “Aisling Bunny Levine,” and Logan looks at me sharply, and I quickly look away so I don’t see the anger and betrayal again, or worse, hate.
I can feel my heartbeat in my chest, the fear, and I know, his mama is definitely going to hear about this, and my daughter is going to be in danger.
“You’re just lucky that brat died, because if it hadn’t, I would have slit its throat the day it was born!”
Her words echo the day I left the hospital, walking out into the cold where she waited for me, eyeing the empty duffle bag, not realizing I donated the money, and I tremble as I look down, allowing Logan to do his job while fear rushes through me.
Oh god, what am I going to do?
Chapter 9
Tank
“Thank you for doing this,” Brady chokes from beside me as everyone exits the crematorium for the wake at his parents' home, something they insisted on doing even though Granny didn’t want one, a wake, both of us will not be attending while I stand stoic, my body humming.
The fuckers want to put on a show. They want people to believe they cared about Granny, hoping the people who kept murmuring about them sitting behind a biker will have something else to talk about.
Fact fucking chance.
They’re the coldest people I’ve ever fucking met, well, Madison Williams is, and don’t get me started on that stuck-up prick that sat down next to her, who Brady decided to completely ignorewhen the fucker stated his friend should sit next to him now that thebikerhad taken over the funeral to get the inheritance.
As I said, stuck-up prick.
“Of course,” I mutter, replying to him but not taking my eyes off the large photos in front of the closed curtains, my eyes on Jasmine, Granny and I, the happiness that radiated from her that day and confusion hits me with the way my body hums, like it always does when she is near.
I could swear I felt her eyes on me, that I could feel her presence, yet when I looked around the crematorium before, during, and after the service, I couldn’t see her.
“She was like family,” I admit as I blink and look away from the girl who broke my heart fucking wishing she was here.
