Page 30 of You Fall First

Dutton.

He fell off the chair.

So much for my instincts.

I rush to scoop him off the floor. As he cries for Paige, he’s leaking tears, drool, and snot.

Same, Woody. Same.

“Shhhh,” I whisper, rocking him and hoping he feels safe and anchored in my arms. But he doubles down on begging for Paige, dragging his wet face along the front of my shirt. That’s when I decide telling him to shush is probably not the best strategy. So I let him cry in my arms, and we ride out the storm together.

What finally gets him back to sleep is yet another viewing of Toy Story. He snuggles under a blanket with Bugs, eyes glazed over as the movie flickers. This kid’s gonna use up an entire childhood’s worth of screen time before Paige gets back.

A part of me wishes I’d insisted on bringing Dutton up to Mayville, but that would’ve meant more time waiting around in airports and more unnecessary travel on planes. Not to mention the boomerang of returning to his old house only to bounce back here again. The sooner he adjusts to this being his new home, the better, even if it’s harder on him right now.

Harder on me.

Anyway, Paige will be here in a couple of days. In fact, I’m kind of surprised I haven’t heard from Annie. The surgery should’ve been over hours ago, and a prickle runs up my spine. I’ve been so distracted taking care of Dutton, I didn’t notice the time. And I fell asleep.

Damn.

Where is my phone? My throat goes tight, and I rise from the couch, moving between rooms, searching to no avail. Why did I put the thing down in the first place? I drag my hands through my hair, racking my brain, trying to retrace my steps. Bath. Books. Puke.

And that’s when I remember.

The battery was low when I Googled kids and vomiting. Every single time I can’t find my phone, it’s plugged into the charger. And now, the first thing I see is a missed call from Annie. Twenty minutes ago. That’s about when Dutton fell off the chair.

My hands ball into fists. I didn’t hear the ring because of his sobbing.

There’s a voicemail, but the house is quiet, and I don’t want to disturb Dutton, so I shove in my AirPods.

“Hi, Noah,” Annie says. “Just calling to let you know Paige is out of surgery, and she’s going to be okay.”

I exhale the fear I’ve been burying. The risks of anesthesia I decided wouldn’t hit our family twice.

“But there’s been a complication.”

My heart slams against my ribs, and I pace the darkened room. Complication. I’ve heard that word before. And when things didn’t turn out okay, I wasn’t there.

“By the time the surgeon got access, Paige’s appendix had burst, and some infection had already spread in her abdominal cavity. He says the situation isn’t life-threatening, so take a deep breath. We need you calm now. Dutton needs you calm. So does Paige.”

I freeze in my tracks. The deep breath thing’s probably not gonna happen, since my lungs are barely functioning. But I know full well that cardiac events from emotional distress are a reality.

That’s what took my dad after we lost my mom.

I wasn’t there for him either.

“Paige is too groggy to talk, and the doctors want her resting, so I’m on my way home to get some sleep myself. They have to run more tests before they can estimate her release, but it won’t be tomorrow, that’s for sure. They said she might not be able to fly for a couple of weeks. That’s all I know for now. Paige told the doctors and nurses they could update me, but I’m not family, and there’s been a shift change, so HIPAA’s an issue. Sorry I couldn’t give you more info tonight. But I’ll be back in the morning. Paige won’t be alone.”

Dropping onto the couch, I put my head between my knees, phone still clutched in my hand.

Deep breath in. Long exhale. Paige won’t be alone. She’s safe and resting. Those are the facts I’ll cling to now.

Still, my body quakes with the urge to talk to Annie. I’m this close to calling, but after a long day of being there for my sister when I couldn’t be, Annie needs sleep too. And anyway, she already told me what she could. Her information’s limited, and as frustrating as that is, I get it. The hospital’s dealing with privacy laws and liability.

Moving to the kitchen, I fill a glass with water and gulp it down. Then I wipe away the beads of sweat forming on my forehead. More tests, the doctors said. That’s what we’re waiting on now. More tests and then an assessment of when Paige can be released. When she can travel.

Two weeks, Annie predicted?