Page 5

I stood so fast that Maliah had to move out of my way.

“Can I see him?”

The nurse nodded.

“For a few minutes.”

I didn’t wait for her to say anything else as I rushed over and followed the nurse through the doors. The farther we walked, the harder my heart started to beat. I didn’t know what Malik was going to look like. I didn’t know what the next twenty-four hours would bring.

I didn’t know whether my husband would wake up able to move his legs or whether the life we knew had changed forever. But when the nurse stopped outside a room and pushed the door open, none of that mattered. Because there he was. My eyes watered just looking at him. My baby was alive. The nurse stepped aside, allowing me to enter the room before quietly entering and closing the door behind me. For a moment, I couldn’t move. I had spent the last few hours desperate to get to Malik. I had begged God to keep him alive, stared at those double doors waiting for somebody to tell me something, and practically demanded that the doctor make sure I was there when he woke up. Yet now that I was finally standing in the same room with my husband, my feet wouldn’t carry me any farther.

Malik lay completely still in the hospital bed. The sight of him made my chest ache. His skin looked different beneath the harsh hospital lights, almost dull compared to the deep brown complexion I was used to. There was slight puffiness around his face, and his lips looked dry. A clear tube rested beneath his nose, delivering oxygen while his chest rose and fell slowly underneath the hospital gown. I stared at that movement longer than I probably should have. Up. Down. Up. Down. I needed to see it. I was grateful to see it.

After spending hours not knowing if my husband was going to live, there was something about physically watching his chest rise that gave me a sense of comfort no doctor could have given me. My eyes traveled over the rest of him. An IV disappeared beneath the skin of his hand, while another line ran from his arm to one of the machines beside his bed. Wires peeked from beneath his gown and connected him to the monitor above him. A small clip hugged one of his fingers, and every few seconds the machine beside him released a soft, steady beep.

There was a thick bandage near his shoulder, partially hidden beneath the gown. I knew there had to be another wound somewhere beneath him. The worst one was the one in his back. The one that might change everything for us. I quickly pushed the thought away. Mentally, I couldn’t go there. I couldn’t do that yet. The nurse moved around the opposite side of his bed to check something on one of the machines before glancing over at me.

“He’s still pretty sedated from the anesthesia,” she explained quietly. “He may start coming around soon, but don’t be alarmed if he seems confused or falls right back asleep. That’s normal.”

I nodded even though I wasn’t sure I had absorbed anything she said.

“Can he hear me?” I finally mustered up the courage to ask.

“Possibly. You can talk to him.”

My eyes immediately went back to Malik. The nurse said something else about pressing the call button if I needed her, but I barely heard that either. A few seconds later, she walked out and left me alone with my husband. The room became painfully quiet after that. Not completely silent, because there were too many machines surrounding Malik for that. Something was always beeping, humming, or clicking, but there were no voices anymore. No crying family members. No doctors giving me information I was terrified to hear. It was just me and him.

I slowly walked toward the chair beside his bed and lowered myself into it. For a while, I didn’t touch him. I just looked at him. And I mean really looked at him. I couldn’t remember the last time I had ever seen Malik this still. Even when he slept, there was something different about him. He would move around, pull me closer, steal my pillow after swearing he hadn’t, or throw one of his heavy-ass legs across me like I wasn’t already carrying around the extra weight of his child. This wasn’t sleep. There was nothing peaceful about seeing my husband lying in a hospital bed because somebody had tried to take his life.

My eyes moved over his face. I was taking in every feature I had looked at thousands of times before. His closed eyes. His nose. The beard that framed his face. The lips that kissed me before he left home without either of us knowing how different our lives could look by the end of the day. Tears slowly filled my eyes again.

“You scared the shit out of me, Malik.”

My voice came out barely above a whisper. He didn’t move. I looked down at his hand that was resting beside him on top of the blanket. The IV taped against his skin made me hesitate, so I carefully slid my fingers beneath his, making sure I didn’t disturb anything. His hand was warm. That nearly broke me all over again. I wrapped my fingers around his as much as the wires and tape would allow before bringing his hand closer to me.

“I swear to God, you get on my fucking nerves.”

A tear slipped down my cheek.

“You always gotta be everybody’s superhero.”

My lips trembled as I stared at him. Malik would have taken every bullet in that parking lot if it meant none of them touched his daughter. That was the kind of father he was. The kind of man he had always been. His family came before him even when we begged him to understand that we needed him too. I lowered my eyes to our hands.

“You saved our baby, but who was supposed to save you?”

My voice cracked on the last word. I brought his hand closer and pressed my lips against the back of it. I held them there for several seconds before resting his hand against my cheek. The tears came harder then. I didn’t sob. I didn’t scream. I simply sat there and cried while holding my husband’s hand against my face. All the fear I had been forcing myself to control in front of our children finally had somewhere to go.

“I need you,” I whispered. “You hear me? I need you here.”

My free hand settled over my stomach.

“And this baby needs you. MJ needs you. Maliah needs you. Maylee needs you.”

I wiped my cheek against my shoulder because I refused to let go of him.

“So, whatever they are talking about out there, we gone handle it. Physical therapy, rehab, whatever. I don’t give a damn how long it takes.”

I looked back at his face.