Returning Home (Satan's Sinners MC Book 4)

by Colbie Kay

  Once again, I am not heard as I explain to the receptionist what is going on. She tells me I have to wait until afternoon because Sierra is at the hospital delivering another baby. Are you fucking kidding me! Huffing, I walk out and back to the car, where Gunner was waiting until I knew if I could get in to see Sierra. I had Gunner try calling her on our way, but she didn’t answer.

  Three hours! I have three hours to wait. I will stay calm, even though I am a shaking mess and ready to blow a gasket.

  The little hand on the clock lines with the number six. My eyes haven’t left that clock in the fifteen minutes I’ve been sitting in this waiting room. 1:30 pm. That’s the exact time it is when the nurse calls my name. I stand, having yet another gush of fluids join what’s already soaking through the pad I just put on before I left the house. Following behind her, we stop to get my weight and learn I’ve lost two pounds since Monday.

  When I am in the exam room, she attaches the blood pressure cuff to my arm; the numbers aren’t right so she checks again. “Your blood pressure is extremely high so it’s a good thing you came in.” She writes on my chart.

  “I tried to be seen Tuesday, but you sent me to labor and delivery instead.” My brow arches. Maybe if they would have listened, this could have been prevented.

  “I was doing protocol and going by what the nurse at labor and delivery said—there was no need to be concerned at that time.” She tries giving me a kind smile, but fuck her.

  “Well, maybe you should shove your protocol up your ass and that nurse needs to be fired for doing a shit job. Maybe if someone would have listened to me, we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

  “I’ll go get the doctor.” She rushes out of the room.

  “Yeah, you fuckin’ do that,” I mutter.

  Sierra and the nurse come into the room a few minutes later. “What’s going on?”

  I go over what has been happening since Tuesday. “And now I’ve lost two pounds of probably water and my blood pressure has skyrocketed.”

  “Okay, I’m going to check you.” The nurse hands me a cover for me to change into from the waist down. They leave the room long enough for me to get my pants off, wrap it around me, and get back on the table.

  When Sierra checks me, she is much easier than the nurse. “Your cervix is still closed, but this is definitely amniotic fluid.” Her attention goes to the nurse. “My fingers are soaked just from checking her, and it’s wetting the paper underneath her. It has the distinct smell of amniotic fluid.” Sierra takes the strip from the nurse, coating it in fluid, and it automatically turns cobalt blue. “Meet me at the hospital—we are taking her by C-section.”

  “Wait, what? You’re taking her like right now? Today?” My mouth hangs open.

  “Yes, today. Your water has ruptured, and we can’t wait for something bad to happen.”

  “It’s too early!” Tears spring in my eyes.

  Sierra gives me a hug. “She will be fine.”

  Shaking her off, I say, “Maybe this would have been prevented if someone would have just fucking listened to me.”

  “I’m sorry, Chatty. I’ve had a full schedule this week, and I went by what the nurse at labor and delivery told me.”

  “You should have been my fucking friend and listened to me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sierra leaves the room so I can get dressed.

  All of my fears surface and I try to hold myself together. The baby is going to be born six weeks early, at thirty-four weeks and two days. As I walk out of the doctor’s office, the receptionist asks if I need to make another appointment. Without even turning around, I say, “No,” and as soon as the cold air hits me, I lose it.

  I get back in the car, look at Gunner’s worried expression, and say, “We have to go to the hospital. They’re doing a C-section because my water ruptured, and they have to get her out.”

  “Fuck! It’s gonna be okay, babe.” He takes my hand in his, leaning over to hug me tightly and kiss my neck. With him giving me the comfort I need, I take a deep breath, get my crying to stop, and we head to the hospital. “I’ll call everyone and let them know what’s going on.” Gunner pulls out his phone and starts making the calls.

  Once again, we are checked into labor and delivery, asked a million questions, hooked to the monitor for the baby, and I’m changed into a hospital gown—but this time everything happens at a rapid pace.

  A group of nurses are in the room, each performing their own task. One puts in the IV, which takes forever; multiple pokes at a busted vein later, it’s finally in place; one getting the ted hose on my legs; and one prepping me for surgery. Oh, and getting the catheter shoved in place. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such intense pain in my life—besides when that nurse checked me, but I think the catheter takes the cake, because that bitch hurt.

  I’m introduced to the pediatrician, who informs me that at thirty-four weeks, the baby’s lungs won’t be fully developed and that most likely she will be transferred to the children’s hospital and put in the NICU. My anxiety has tripled; I’m scared out of my mind, worried because I don’t know what to expect. Looking over at a quiet Gunner, I see his eyes are shining with threatening tears.

  He clears his throat, “I’ll be right back.” He leaves the room, and I realize that he’s having just as hard of a time with all of this as I am.

  He returns within ten minutes of me being taken into surgery. Sierra came in and did her best to explain everything that was going to happen, but it did little to calm my nerves. And I’m still pissed at her. A nurse hands me this little round container for me to drink, and when I do, it about makes me want to vomit all over the place; nastiest shit I’ve ever tasted in my life. Way worse than when I had to do that glucose test to check my sugar levels.

  In the operating room, the lights are so bright it’s almost blinding, it’s freezing cold so my teeth are chattering like I’ve been outside in the winter air, and the smell of antiseptic burns my nostrils. The nurse stands in front of me, holding my shoulders as I’m sitting on the side of the bed.

  “Okay, Lindy, we need you to curl yourself in and arch your back like a cat. You are going to feel a lot of pressure as the spinal block goes in, but then it will begin to fade as everything becomes numb. Your legs are going to start feeling extremely heavy.”

  “Okay,” I nervously respond. I do as I’m told and do feel the pressure, but it isn’t anything I can’t handle.

  When I am completely numb, they lay me down and adjust me where they need me to be. Finally, I see Gunner coming into the room and a tear slides down my cheek. He comes over, sitting next to my head. He takes my hand that is strapped down closest to him and holds it for dear life.

  Sierra performs a test to see if I can feel anything, and when she is satisfied, the C-section begins. The anesthesiologist says, “You are going to feel some pressure in your stomach and chest—that is them pulling the baby out.”

  Some pressure? Holy hell! That’s not some pressure, that’s a lot of pressure and it hurts and I feel like I can’t breathe.

  Looking towards Gunner, they let him look around the curtain that is blocking my view. “She has so much hair!” His gaze comes back to me as tears start to roll down his cheeks. “She’s tiny. So fuckin’ beautiful and perfect.”

  Instantly, she starts screaming; then we’re crying, and I am so happy. Sierra holds her above the curtain for a second, and all I see is a tiny little baby with a head full of blonde hair.

  I get a quick glance at her in the nursery before I am wheeled into recovery. I don’t get to see her again until she is brought into my room in an incubator and we are signing papers to have her transferred.

  I got to see my baby all of ten minutes. I didn’t get to touch her, hold her, nothing for two days after I had her, and I’ve never felt so empty as when I watched them roll her out to
take her away.

  Epilogue

  On November, 25th at 4:32 pm, Destiny Lynn Williams was born, weighing just a little over four pounds and measuring up to eighteen inches long. That day, when I locked eyes on my baby girl, I knew my life would never be the same. She stole my heart and wrapped her tiny little finger around it for her keeping.

  The day she was born was the same day they took her to the NICU, and for the last three weeks Chatty and I have been in a whirlwind of emotions. We’ve spent every minute we can at the hospital being with our daughter. I remember the first time going in the children’s hospital was overwhelming; we didn’t know what to expect, and we were terrified at what we would enter into. It had been two days since we had seen her, and even then, we didn’t get very much time with her. Chatty cried, and I was struggling, trying to stay strong, only hangin’ on by a thread. Lookin’ around, seeing other kids, sick kids, toddlers hooked to IVs being pulled in wagons by their parents, others wearing masks with not a hair on their heads—it was heartbreaking to say the least. I can’t even imagine what those parents must feel, or what they have to deal with.

  We checked in with security, who directed us where to go, did the three-minute hand washing and then sanitizing before we were allowed back. We walked into room 504 and it was quiet and dark, except for the light coming from the hallway, where her nurse’s computer sat—oh, and it was warm. There she was, so tiny, lying in her little hospital bassinet, sleeping so peacefully with a feeding tube coming out of her nose and other wires sticking out of the receiving blanket she is wrapped up in.

  As the first week came to an end, we learned how to feed, bathe, change, and dress her, and we had to check her temperature every three hours to make sure she was self-regulating it. We spent hours watching videos, reading papers, doing tests, and learning CPR in order to bring our baby home. They got our hopes up that first week by saying she would be able to come home the following week.

  So, we were pumped; we brought her diaper bag and car seat, ready to take her home. She was maintaining her temperature, she no longer had the heat on her, she wasn’t taking oxygen, she had pulled her feeding tube out and was digesting all of her food, and she was gaining weight after losing several ounces. The day before she was supposed to come home, her stats started dropping, and they decided to keep her for another two weeks.

  Chatty got real depressed after that—she wanted our baby home. I think she started having postpartum depression; she would cry every waking minute of every day. When she would sleep, she would wake up in the middle of the night, crying. And I had not a fuckin’ clue how to help her. I talked to the other girls, but none of them had experienced what she was going through. All I could do was be there for her and keep reminding her that it wouldn’t be too much longer before we would bring our baby home.

  Today is that day!

  We got all of her discharge papers signed, we did our lesson in how to work her breathing monitor—because she is still having some problems not breathing at night, she has to come home with this monitor that has to be attached to her at all times. I’m kind of glad, because she is so little; it’s like extra comfort in case something was to happen. We got her dressed in a little brown and pink polka dot outfit Tinsley bought her, then loaded her up in her car seat—and now, we are heading home.

  Chatty is healing up nicely from her surgery, but is on orders not to drive or lift anything heavier than the baby in her car seat for six weeks—and with my inability to drive, Tinsley will be our chauffeur for the next few weeks. She was happy to agree if it meant she got to see her baby cousin.

  My mom and Tinsley are the only two that have met Destiny. When we would go to the NICU we felt like it was our time to be with our baby and we wanted that for ourselves. We told everyone else they would have to wait until she came home. They understood and respected our wishes. The day my mom met her granddaughter, she instantly fell in love. As did Tinsley.

  The nurses always told us how much they loved her, and how good of a baby she was. I think our daughter is going to have an effect on anyone that comes in her vicinity.

  “Tinsley, can we go somewhere first?” Chatty asks from the backseat. She wanted to sit back there so she could watch Destiny as we rode home.

  “Sure. Where you want to go?” Tinsley gazes in the rearview mirror, then watches the road again.

  “The cemetery.” Tinsley and I eye each other. We know why she wants to go there, but knowing what happened last time, we both feel a little uneasy.

  Pulling up on the gravel road, Tinsley parks her car. She gets my chair since Chatty can’t lift anything yet, and I get into it as Chatty gets herself and Destiny out. Together, we go to Ripper’s grave; it’s cold and there’s snow on the ground, so we can’t be here for long. We have Destiny bundled up in about ten receiving blankets and Chatty has the monitor hanging over her shoulder.

  She stands in front of the headstone and turns Destiny to face it as well. “Look at her, Ripper. Isn’t she beautiful? I know that if you were here you would love her, even as weird as that sounds.” She laughs and continues, “For a long time, I thought my heart was broken, to never be fixed again. I thought there was only room in there for you, but I was wrong. I fell in love again. Even though I will always hold a place for you, Gunner owns me now, and I love him so much, Ripper. He gave me this beautiful little girl and my heart is split between her and her daddy. I will never forget you.” She swipes a tear off of her cheek.

  She turns to face me. Taking a few steps, she places the monitor on my lap and then hands me Destiny. Holding our baby close to my chest, I kiss the blankets that top her head. Chatty turns back to Ripper’s grave. “It took a lot of time and the help of many people for me to get over grieving your death. I believe you were there every step of the way. Thank you for loving me and thank you for wanting me to find this happiness.” She places her hand on the top of the headstone, then bends down, kissing more snow than stone.

  I was waiting until later to do this, but something is telling me to do it now. “Chat.”

  “Yeah?” She turns until her beautiful blue eyes meet mine. Pulling the two-carat ring from my pocket, I hold it out in front of me.

  “I don’t have some big long speech or anything, but I will talk from my heart. I noticed you long before you noticed me. I knew what we could be long before you knew. We have been through so fuckin’ much, and we made it through together. I’m nowhere near perfect, but I love you with every part of my being. Every day that I get to wake up next to you, I fall more in love with you. Every night that I get to hold you as we fall asleep, I thank fate for you returning home and giving me the chance to love you. I told you I wanted every-fucking-thing with you, and there’s only one thing left. Will you marry me?”

  Biting down on her bottom lip, tears cascade down her cheeks, and she nods. “Yes.” Grabbing her hand, I place the ring on her finger, and she gives me a slow, sweet kiss.

  Smiling, I ask, “When?”

  With a mixture of laughing and crying, she says, “Someday.”

  Bonus Scene

  I’ve been working in Hacker’s club for well over a year, watching her tight little ass walk by the office door multiple times a night. I’m not much of a talker, only when I have to be, and I’ve had no reason to speak to her. I’d like to, though, but she makes me feel shit and I don’t feel, ever. Especially for a woman. She is a pretty bitch, though. I imagine her on her knees, hands tied behind her back, mouth begging and salivating for my cock.

  Shaking my head, I try to get the image out of my head; her pretty little mouth wrapped around me, taking me all the way back, until she’s gagging and tears shine in those crazy yellow eyes of hers. Fuck! My dick hardens underneath Hacker’s desk; my jeans are growing so tight the zipper’s about to bust.

  My mind goes back to the books and numbers. Focusing on that has
me going flaccid in seconds, and I decide it’s time for a fuckin’ break. Grabbing my smokes and lighter, I hightail it out the back door. Lighting up, I take a few hits, sucking in deeply and letting the smoke fill my lungs. I release the thick cloud, then the back door opens, and she stands there, frozen, staring at me as I stare right back. Taking another drag, I notice the heavy trash bag she’s got a tight grip on.

  “Leave it.”

  Her head tilts to the side a little. “What?” Her eyes widen slightly, and I wonder if I scare her.

  “The trash—leave it.” My black eyes dare her to challenge me.

  Without another word, she drops the bag and heads back inside. Walking over, I grab it and take it to the dumpster, throwing it in. When I get back over to the back door, she’s standing there, eyes narrowed, arms crossed over her rack.

  “You can’t just boss me around. You’ve never even spoke to me, and now you want to put orders on me.” Guess that answers the question of if she’s scared of me.

  “Yeah, I can, and I will.” I don’t know where this little stunt of defiance came from, but I kinda like it. If she was mine to do with as I pleased, she’d pay for it. I’d paddle that cute little ass until her porcelain ass cheeks were a rosy red. If she didn’t want to obey, I’d fuck her into submission. I’ve never had to go about it that way—all the women I’ve fucked know the deal. They willingly fall at my feet to be ordered around like good little subs.

  “No, you won’t, and while we’re at it, why don’t you start a conversation with Hi my name is such and such, what’s your name? That’s how you talk to people.” Her breaths quicken, making her chest rise and fall. I bet she has nice tits. She adds, “Not Leave it.” She tries to imitate my voice by dropping hers a few octaves.

  My lips twitch with a smile. “Demon.”