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They pushed the gurney through a set of swinging doors, the smack of the metal frame loud against the wood. Bright lights glared at her. The image of a clock wavered in the distance, white with black numbers, utilitarian. Seven-thirty. Why did that have to stick in her brain? She focused on it, needing something solid and real.
She squeezed her eyes tighter still as a contraction blinded her again. Words flew around her. Her brain hid in the shadows, frightened she was sure. She couldn’t understand what they were saying. What they meant. “Breech.”
“BP’s dropping.”
“You’ll need to leave.”
“Addie!” she screamed.
Through her slitted eyelids, Amanda saw Addie moving reluctantly out the swinging doors. A sharp blade of pain ripped through her. Her voice tore from her throat. “Lane!” Where was he? Why wasn’t he here? Why—?
A strong hand took hers. The soothing deep voice washed over her. “We’ll take care of you.”
Not “I’ll take care of you.” Not “I’m here.” Tears burned behind her closed eyelids, but no matter how tightly she squeezed them shut, she couldn’t hold in the tears. Water trickled from the corners of her eyes, dampening her temples, her hair and then the pillow beneath her.
“We’re going to have to do a cesarean section.” A new voice cut through the clouds. “To save the baby.”
“Please.” Her heart shattered. “Save him. Please. He’s everything.”
There was no pause in the room’s activity. If anything, it increased. Footsteps hustled. Bodies shuffled around her. The prick of a needle in her arm seemed nothing in comparison to her body’s agony, little more than a mosquito bite, as an IV was put in her arm.
“I’m going to put a mask over your face.” Another strange voice slipped in between the pain. The feel of plastic momentarily registered as claustrophobic...and then there was nothing but solid darkness...and the echoing scream of Lane’s name over and over again inside her head.
* * *
TO AMANDA THE fluorescent lights of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, or NICU, nursery seemed so harsh. So bright. Too bright. She thought of the tiny bedroom in her house where she’d put all the nursery furniture. The crib. The changing table. The rocker. The L for Lucas alphabet lamp she’d bought right after she’d found out she was having a boy. Even the chair from Mom’s house that she’d put in the corner to give the room a feeling of home. No glaring lights, no monitors or flashing lights there. That’s where he should be. Not here. She wanted to cry.
Slowly, with the nurse’s help, Amanda moved the wheelchair closer to the Plexiglas enclosure where her son curled up against a soft white blanket. Her arms ached to hold him, to touch him, but he needed to sleep, to grow, and she needed to recover. The IV in her arm was a glaring reminder of the long road ahead for them both.
He wasn’t big enough. Not nearly big enough. Not quite five pounds. Bigger than they’d expected, the doctor had said, sounding entirely too pleased for something he’d had no involvement in.
“Wow. You’re really here,” she whispered to the tiny stranger stretched out before her. She marveled at him. He might be small, but everything was there. Teeny tiny fingers. Itty bitty toes. Rounded little ears. Eyes that were closed right now, but she remembered the deep chocolate brown of them...a color he shared with his father. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job keeping you safe,” she whispered, afraid to startle him.
She couldn’t look away, staring at the tiny life she and Lane had created. For some reason, it didn’t hurt so much to think of Lane now. Maybe the pain meds had dulled her senses, too. Maybe her strength was coming back. Maybe.
She felt someone’s presence beside her. She looked up, surprised and pleased to see her brother Wyatt there. A hospital gown covered his T-shirt and jeans. They must have made him take off his Stetson, though she could see the ridge where it had recently sat on his dark hair.
“How you doin’?” He leaned in close, looking at her as well as her son. The kindness was thick in his eyes. Even though he was her brother, she could understand why Emily was so head over heels in love with him. She was a lucky woman. Amanda’s heart hitched, wishing someone would love her like that. The memory of another tall, dark-haired cowboy flitted through her mind before she forced herself to change the subject.
“I’m okay.” She looked back at her son. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
“You did a good job.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders and gently squeezed. “Everyone’s here—”
That got her attention. “What do you mean everyone?” Surely not the whole birthday party.
“The whole family.” He grinned at her. “Even Tyler wants to see his new cousin. He says he’s never met one of those before.” Wyatt laughed.
That boy was something else. She looked at her son. How much like Tyler would he be? How much like Lane? Her heart ached. And in that moment she realized all of her pain. Mentally cursing, she leaned back in the wheelchair. She didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t want to keel over, either. The staff probably already thought she was a terrible mother. It had taken her nearly half a day to wake up to see him. Surely they wondered what she’d done wrong to cause all this.
“Let’s get you back to your room.” Wyatt stood behind her and gripped the chair’s handles. It felt strange to let someone else make decisions for her, but if anyone was capable of doing that, it was Wyatt.
“Where’s Addie? I need to thank her.”
“Oh, you’ll have to wait. She’s standing in line outside, hoping to see the little guy.” He laughed again.
“In line?”
“Yeah, I pulled rank and came in first. The rest want a peek, but they only let a couple of us in at a time.”
She glanced over her shoulder up at him. “Even Jason?” Her brother, the attorney, was about as disconnected from humanity as anyone she knew. He couldn’t possibly be interested in a baby.
“Yeah, even Jason.”
Wyatt pushed her wheelchair out into the hall, and sure enough, everyone was there, lined up. Even Tyler. She had to laugh. The hospital gown was way too big for him, dragging over his shoes, but he was grinning from ear to ear. Wyatt rolled her over to see him.
“This is so cool.” He leaned against the arm of the wheelchair. “The baby and I have the same birthday! Thanks, Aunt Mandy. This gift’s almost as good as my new bike.”
Everyone laughed while Mandy gave him a hug, then winced as he leaned against her.
“Let’s get you back to bed—you did just have major surgery, you know.” Wyatt headed down the hall. “The nurses only let you up for a short while.”
She wanted to argue, because that was what she always did. But she knew he and the nurses were right.
Though she was in the maternity portion of the hospital, it felt more like the surgical unit. Her room definitely wasn’t the nice comfy suite she remembered being shown all those months ago.
Her disappointment in the accomodations was, of course, balanced by the fact the doctors had saved her life and her son’s. She tried to make her tired brain focus on being thankful.
As Wyatt passed the nurse’s station, he waved down a nurse, who followed them to the room. The sun had moved higher, leaving shadows in its wake. Wyatt flipped on a soft light and she wondered why the babies didn’t get that same consideration. Once the nurse had her settled in the bed, the blankets pulled up and tucked in, she struggled to stay awake.
Wyatt didn’t leave. He simply settled in the wooden chair next to the bed. Oh, God. He wasn’t leaving until he asked the question in his eyes. “It’s not fair to take advantage of me in my weakened state,” she whispered, leaning deep into the pillow, letting her eyelids droop.
“Weak is not a word I’d ever associate with you.” He smiled. Having discarded the hospital gown, he looked more like Wyatt now. He didn’t speak, simply sat there, looking at her with that intense stare she’d hated as a kid.
“Fine. Go ahead. Get it over with.” She closed her eyes again, dread a palpable being standing right there beside her.
“I won’t force you to tell me.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But—”
She’d never known Wyatt to be hesitant. She waited until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “But?”
“But if that were my son—I’d want to know.”
“How...how do you know I haven’t told him?”
Wyatt laughed. “Because I know you, Mandy.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The man who is that boy’s father is someone you care about, probably even love. No man would ever touch you unless you wanted him to. Unless he was worthy of you. And if you’d told him, he’d be here.”
The air grew thick. She knew Wyatt hadn’t guessed who the father was. Nor had he pressured her to tell him. Looking at Wyatt now, she realized that reprieve was coming to an end.
Their gazes clashed, and she knew the instant he decided to back off. Temporarily. He stood and stepped right up to the edge of the bed, looking down at her.
“If that were my child—” he repeated and stepped back “—I’m not sure I could forgive you for not telling me. Ask DJ about that.”
Turning on his heel, Wyatt left her without another word. Her heart sank. She knew DJ had struggled to deal with his anger toward Tammie for not telling him about Tyler. But this was different—she had tried to tell Lane. She had. Really.
Weariness wrapped around her. Who was she trying to convince? Damn. She really hated it when Wyatt was right.
* * *
LANE DROVE INTO the yard at his work, the Hawkins Ranch, pulling into his usual parking spot. He climbed out, looked around. He’d expected a half-dozen cowboys to be in the barn, but the place was surprisingly empty for the middle of the afternoon. Even the horses were out and about. He could see Dancer and Prism in the near pasture, bouncing in the grasses, playing and showing off for the fillies. Lady was pointedly ignoring the male posturing.
Wyatt Hawkins’s big ranch house looked just as quiet. Lane headed up the walk, noting again the lack of noise. What the hell was going on? Where was everyone? Had something happened? He’d left Wyatt a message earlier to tell him that he’d be late for work today. Dad had been worse than usual this morning, so there’d been no leaving him.
Finally, Lane saw movement on the horizon. A dust cloud rose as someone headed this way. He turned back, greeting the truck as it turned into the drive. The ranch foreman, Chet, with his wife Juanita in the passenger seat. Where had they gone to in the middle of the day?
“Where is everyone?” Lane asked as the older man climbed out, walking around the battered Chevy to help his diminutive wife hop down from the high seat.
Lane saw a look pass between them—not a good sign. “What happened?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing bad.” Juanita took several long seconds smoothing her faded jeans. Lifting her head, she looked at her husband, then back at Lane. “We go to Dallas for that boy’s birthday party, and end up at the hospital. Thank God, it was for a good reason this time.”
Ah, yes. Tyler Easton’s birthday party. Lane vaguely recalled declining the invitation. “How is a hospital a good reason?” Something about all this felt weird. Very weird.
Juanita laughed. “A baby, silly man.”
“Baby? Whose baby?”
Chet chuckled. “Not ours,” he teased his wife, shaking his head as he closed the truck door and reached in the bed of the truck for the bags of groceries. He handed two to Lane. The heaviest ones, Lane noticed.
“Oh, hush, old man,” Juanita said. “Let’s get these inside before everything defrosts.”
Carrying the groceries behind the older couple, Lane patiently waited. Neither one of them spoke, acting as if he’d never asked a question. What was the big mystery? He recalled Juanita’s earlier words.
“So, who had a baby?” Curious, Lane finally asked again. He could tell Juanita was bursting with the news.
She and her husband looked at each other again. Juanita grinned. “Amanda had her baby today. She’s a bit early, but not too much.” Juanita’s excitement overwhelmed her concerns. “We’re gonna have another little one to spoil around here.” She started unpacking bags. “You pay attention, young man. Start thinking about your own family. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
Juanita never ceased to give advice to the hands around the ranch, playing matchmaker and pseudo-mother on a regular basis. Normally, Lane could ignore her. Today, not so much.
“Amanda Hawkins? Mandy?” he asked.
“You know any other Amandas around here?” Juanita opened the refrigerator to put the milk away.
Amanda? His Amanda? Mandy and baby—they’d used those two words in the same sentence. His brain couldn’t wrap around that concept. Last time he’d seen her...she’d been far from pregnant...in the pickup cab...in the pouring rain.
Without much prompting, his brain did some quick, very disturbing math. She’d come back to town that night, for some mysterious reason, according to Trina. She’d never said what. A bit more simple division and multiplication had his heart racing. That night after her mother died. When they’d found themselves alone...here...
Two grocery bags hit the tile floor. He cursed and stalked to the door. He was halfway to his truck before he turned to yell back at the house, “Which hospital?” Dallas had a few.
Chet appeared in the doorway, frowning. “Dallas General. Why?”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_5ab59fbe-537d-591a-8383-09359f337bac)
FIVE LONG HOURS on the road nearly derailed Lane’s sanity. He called everyone he had a number for but had only managed to reach voice mail. He left a dozen messages. By the time he hit the outskirts of Dallas, his phone was dead. Which meant that instead of knowing what was happening, his imagination was running wild.
Twice, he’d nearly turned around. This wasn’t his problem. If Amanda had wanted him there she’d have told him, right? But the weight of responsibility kept him driving. Finally, Dallas General loomed on the horizon like a huge bird of prey. He swallowed his apprehension as he parked his truck in visitor parking.
His anger had dissipated, only to be replaced by disappointment and fear. Why hadn’t she told him?
All those what-ifs followed him through the sliding glass doors and halfway down the hall. What if she wouldn’t see him? What if it really wasn’t his kid? What if...?
Stepping off the elevator moments later, Lane came face to face with a giant grinning rabbit plastered to the wall. One huge ear pointed to his left and had the word nursery printed on the pink interior of the floppy ear. The other ear, bent just a bit, pointed the other direction, with room numbers on it. He stood there for a long moment, not sure which ear to follow. Not sure who he wanted to see first.
Who he should see first?
Mandy’s face popped into his mind, and while he wasn’t sure of the reception he’d receive, he headed toward the patient rooms. Surely he could find her.
He’d gone up and down the hallway twice before a nurse stopped him. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah. Uh—” He wasn’t a relative or Mandy’s husband—that notion gave him pause. From all the times he’d taken his dad to the hospital, he knew he wouldn’t get details if he wasn’t. But he didn’t want details, not from the nurse anyway. “Amanda Hawkins?”
“Oh...” The fact that the nurse briefly looked away sent Lane’s stomach shooting to his knees. She recovered quickly, though. “She’s been moved upstairs. Her family is in the waiting room, just down the hall, if you’d like to join them.”
Upstairs? What was upstairs? Without another word, his heart slamming in his chest, Lane stalked toward the doorway the nurse had indicated.
He didn’t see anyone at first, then a movement in the corner caught his eye and he realized the room went around a bend. He recognized Mandy’s sister, Addie, standing at a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.
Wyatt, his boss, was sprawled on a dark faux-leather couch, one big hand rubbing his eyes. Neither of them had seen him, and Lane held back.
More movement, more people. DJ was in another chair, staring out the window, as well. Silent. Pensive. Tara sat beside him, her head on his shoulder. The final brother, Jason, sat farther down, his head bowed, staring at the soft gray carpet.
The pain-filled, worry-soaked silence slammed into Lane. He mentally cursed. How bad was it? All the brothers and sisters were here. He did not want to step into that lion’s den. As an only child, he had no clue how to deal with siblings and he was pretty sure they wouldn’t understand why he was here.
If Wyatt had any idea, Lane was pretty sure he’d have heard about it by now.
“She can’t go home alone, you know that, right?” Addie blurted out, causing everyone to turn and look at her, including Lane.
“You going to tell her that?” Jason asked.
Addie sighed. “The doctor said it could be weeks before she’s back to full strength. She can’t take care of the baby alone. We have to come up with a plan.”
Tara actually laughed. “And that worked so well when we tried to stop DJ from going to find Tammie.” Everyone laughed, including DJ.
“That was different.” Addie turned back to the windows, her back straight and angry.
“How?” DJ stood, pacing slowly, rubbing his stiffened, injured legs, a habit Lane was sure he didn’t even realize he had. “This is still you trying to run the show, Ad.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are.” Wyatt stood and put his hands on Addie’s shoulders. “But this time, I agree.” Wyatt glanced back at the others, and in the process, his gaze found Lane. Their eyes met. No longer able to hold back, Lane stepped into the room.
