“My family thought I was going to crash and burn without them supporting me, but I’m fine. I made the best out of it. Now I have my own place, I have a roommate that I treat like a brother, I drink cheap beer, I can build fucking furniture...” he motioned at the pile of crib pieces that were scattered over the floor.
“That last part is debatable,” I smirked.
“I’m trying to make a point here,” Duke said. “You can sit around making excuses and feeling sorry for yourself, or you can grow the fuck up and roll with the punches.”
I can’t believe Duke Williams is giving me a pep talk…I thought darkly, even though I had to admit that he was making a good point. Several good points, actually.
“You’re so focused on comparing yourself to your brother, that you can’t even see how lucky you are to have him,” Duke said, his tone softening.
I blinked up at Duke without saying anything.
“Brady would give his left nut for you, and you know it. He’d do anything for you, Josh. I bet everything that he’s done -- everything that you’ve resented him for -- he actually did for you; to set a good example for you, and to make sure that you had someone to look up to.”
My eyes glazed over as I stared at the crib pieces on the living room floor, trying to process what Duke was saying.
“You know how many people out there would kill to have a big brother like that?” he said. “I know I would. Out of my entire family, I’ve never had anybody that looked out for me the way that Brady looks out for you.”
“You’re right,” I said, forcing down the lump in the back of my throat.
“If I still had money,” Duke said, “I would have bet every last cent that Brady would have been fucking ecstatic if you had told him about the baby the other night.”
“But he has his own news to be ecstatic about--”
“No,” Duke cut me off. “Brady would have been ecstatic that the two of you would get to share this experience together. Think about it: becoming a father is this scary, life-shattering thing… Imagine what a relief it would be, to know that you’re not alone; to know that you have your brother by your side.”
I blinked a few times, considering what Duke was saying.
That night in the locker room, I had been so focused on my own insecurities that I hadn’t even given Brady a chance to speak for himself. Instead, I had just convinced myself that I was the fuck up; the loser. I had convinced myself that Brady was better than me, and it wasn’t because of anything that Brady had said or done…it was all just something I had created in my own head. And the worst part was: I hadn’t even given him the chance to prove me wrong.
“You’re right,” I said finally. “I thought I had gotten over all of this, back when Brady got married. I thought that I had gotten rid of all the jealousy and insecurity that I had towards my brother…but I guess I didn’t. It all came rushing right back when he told that he was having a baby with Cass.”
“I should have felt happy for my brother,” I realized. “And I should have let him feel happy for me. But I couldn’t do that, because I fell right back into the pattern of resenting him…”
“This is good,” Duke nodded encouragingly. “Like, really good. I feel like I’m on an episode of Doctor Laura. Which is bittersweet, because I haven’t actually been able to listen to Doctor Laura since my SiriusXM Radio subscription got canceled--”
I rolled my eyes and chucked the instruction pamphlet at Duke.
“I’m going to tell Brady,” I said. “But let’s get this crib finished first.”
Before I could put that plan into motion, though, I heard the sound of my phone ringing from the coffee table. I reached for it and glanced down at the screen: I didn’t recognize the number, but it had a local area code.
“I should take this,” I said. I stood up and walked to the kitchen, then I pressed the phone to my ear:
“Hello?”
“Mr. Hudson?” a male voice said through the speaker.
“That’s me.”
“Good evening, sir,” the voice said. “I’m calling from Hartford Memorial Hospital.”
Shit. My stomach sunk and my mind immediately rushed to Vanessa. Was she ok? Did something happen to the baby?!
“What is this regarding?” I demanded. “Is she ok?”
“Actually, sir, I’m calling in regards to a male patient,” the voice said. I felt a split second of relief, then my heart standing pounding again. Brady?
“You’re listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Thomas Hudson?” the voice asked.
“Yeah,” I frowned. “That’s my grandfather. Is everything ok?”
“I can’t provide much information over the phone, unfortunately,” the voice said. “Can you come into the hospital as soon as possible?”
“Of course,” I said, already reaching for my car keys. “I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY | VANESSA
Thirty-Two Weeks
“Have you seen my Naked palette?” I asked over my shoulder as I dug through a canvas tote bag filled with eyeshadow compacts. “I haven’t seen it anywhere…”
“Really?” Summer asked as she stepped to my side and glanced down into the canvas bag. “I could have sworn I just saw you using it…”
“I know,” I let the bag sink back onto the chair, then I scratched my head and glanced around the makeshift workstation that I had set up on the kitchen counter.
Today Summer and I were at a house in West Hartford doing a hair and makeup trial for half a dozen prospective clients: a bride and her bridesmaids. If the bride was happy with today’s outcome, we’d be hired for the wedding.
While the wedding party was flitting around the kitchen in floral bathrobes, sipping champagne and giggling, I felt like I was suffering through the early symptoms of a panic attack, or early-onset dementia. Possibly both.
“Oh, honey!” Summer said suddenly, “It’s right there!”
She pointed to a spot on the counter and, sure enough, my eyes landed on the slender plastic eyeshadow palette that I had spent the last five minutes desperately searching for.
“Of course it was right in front of me the whole time,” I grumbled, reaching for the palette. “I swear, I’m losing my damn mind…”
“It’s been a long day,” Summer said in a soothing voice, rubbing my lower back. “If you want, I can finish up here while you take a break--”
“I’m fine,” I insisted firmly. But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, my stomach squealed loudly in protest. I clutched my hands over my bump and grimaced.
“Oh my God!” one of the bridesmaids gasped, noticing me for the first time. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “What was that? It sounded like your baby just dropped a bowling ball in your stomach!”
It feels like it, too, I wanted to retort. Instead, I said:
“I think it’s just my stomach growling.”
“Are you hungry?” Summer asked, sounding concerned. “When’s the last time you had something to eat?”
“Umm…” I tried to navigate through all of the jumbled thoughts that were tangled up in my head. “I think I had a granola bar a few hours ago?”
“Is that the only thing you’ve had to eat today?” Summer’s look of concern deepened. “Vanessa, you have to eat more than that!”
Then, whispering as if it was some sort of secret, she added: “You’re eating for the baby too, you know…”
“I know,” I assured her. “Trust me…there’ll be a giant cheeseburger with my name on it as soon as we finish up here.”
“Are you sure you’ll be ok until then?” Summer asked. She reached for her purse and flipped open the zipper. “Let me see if I have anything in here to tide you over…”
She dug around through the contents of the purse, then feebly produced a small plastic canister of mints.
“Tic-Tacs?” she offered.
“I’ll be fine,” I insisted. “Let’s just finish thi
s job, and then we can grab a bite to eat.”
“Ok,” Summer said reluctantly. She pushed her purse aside and I tried to remember why I had been looking for the Naked palette in the first place.
“Ahem,” another bridesmaid, sitting on a bar stool next to the countertop, cleared her throat. Her face was painted with the wrong shade of foundation. One eye was surrounded by a ring of black eyeshadow, and the other was still bare.
Shit. Did I do that? This is bad...
I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me. I had been feeling “off” all day. Granted, Summer was right: I probably hadn’t gotten enough to eat. But I was used to grabbing snacks on the go, or grazing throughout the day. I had never fucked up an entire face of makeup, just because I was hungry…
“Let’s finish up your smokey eyes,” I said, cracking open the palette and positioning myself over the bridesmaid.
“Did you say smokey eyes?” she gawked back at me, scowling. “I asked for something light and ethereal!”
She hopped off of the barstool and stomped across the kitchen, swiping a hand mirror off of the countertop. She took one look at herself, then she turned back to me. Her face twisted into an expression of pure horror.
“Oh my God!” she squealed, “I look like an Atlantic City hooker!”
“Oh, shit, you’re right!” the bride giggled over her glass of champagne. “Yikes…”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand.
Why did I suddenly feel so light-headed? So dizzy?
“Just sit down,” I said. “I’ll start over…”
The room was starting to spin, and I shot a hand out to grip onto the back of the barstool. I tried to steady myself, but the swivel seat on the barstool spun around, and I spun right with it.
I felt myself slump forward.
“Is she ok?” a nasally voice asked.
“Vanessa?” Summer asked from somewhere behind me. “Vanessa, are you ok?”
I blinked my eyes, but all I could see were shimmery dots of white that were growing and swirling, slowly taking over my entire field of vision.
“I…” I heard my voice stammer, but it sounded like it was coming from miles away. “I umm…”
And then I felt my knees give out beneath me as everything went completely white…
***
“Vanessa?” I heard a voice calling from somewhere far away. “Vanessa, can you hear me?”
I slowly blinked my eyes open. At first everything was fuzzy and distorted, but the room slowly came into focus.
“Where am I?” I tried to ask, but my mouth was too dry to form the words. Then I saw Summer, leaning over me.
“You’re awake!” she said. She looked relieved.
My hands shifted around on either side of me, and I felt crisp bed sheets. I was laying down… I was in a bed…
My eyes drifted past Summer, inspecting the room around me: barren white walls, an impossibly bright white light glaring down at me from the ceiling…
Then I saw the IV bag, filled with a colorless cloudy solution, hanging next to the bed. I followed the long, clear tube away from the IV bag and across the blankets that had been draped over me…and then, with a pang of horror, I found the end of the tube: it was stuck into the roof of my hand, held in place by a strip of translucent surgical tape.
I felt a pitiful squeak sneak out of my lips, and I turned back to Summer.
“Am I in the hospital?” I asked, finding it slightly easier to form words this time.
“Yes,” Summer said slowly. “But everything is ok! Don’t panic!”
“The baby!” I said. Immediately, my hands clung to my bump through the crispy bedsheets. It was still there; I could still feel the firm curve of my stomach, like a basketball.
“I’m sure the baby is perfectly fine,” Summer told me. “The doctor was able to find a heartbeat earlier, and he’s running some tests now just to be sure--”
I knew Summer was trying to calm me down, but I couldn’t take her word for it. I wanted to know for myself. I slid my palms around my bump, feeling for any movement…any confirmation that my baby was really ok. But I couldn’t feel anything. Not so much as a flutter, or a karate kick to my intestines...
“I want to see the doctor,” I said numbly as panic flooded through me.
“I already asked the nurse to bring him in,” Summer said. “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”
“Is Josh here?”
“Umm…” Summer hesitated, and the expression on her face made the sense of dread inside my double.
“Where is Josh?”
“He wasn’t with us when this happened…” Summer said slowly, avoiding the question. “Do you remember anything? Do you remember being at the client’s house? Do you remember passing out?”
I grimaced and tried to replay the last thing I remembered. I could remember the kitchen…I could remember the bitchy bridesmaids and their stupid matching bathrobes…I could remember feeling dizzy…
“I remember,” I nodded slowly. “How long was I out?”
“You came back pretty quickly the first time,” Summer told me.
The first time?!
“You actually walked with me to the car, and I thought you were getting better. But when we got to the hospital, you passed out again. That was a few hours ago…”
“A few hours?” I grimaced, still squeezing onto my stomach. “Does Josh know that I’m here?”
“Vanessa--”
“Does he?”
“I tried texting him,” she admitted reluctantly. “Then I tried calling him. But…I haven’t been able to get ahold of him yet.”
“What?” I squeaked. My grip on my stomach tightened. “But--”
“I’m sure he’s just busy,” Summer said quickly. “He’s probably at work…or maybe he got called to a fire? I don’t know…”
“No,” I shook my head. “No…I need my phone. Please?”
Summer bit her lip apprehensively, but she reached into her purse and produced my cell phone. She handed it to me slowly.
I clicked on the home button and the digital screen flooded with notifications: calendar reminders, missed calls, text messages, Facebook alerts…but as I whisked my thumb through the list, I didn’t see a single notification from Josh.
I tapped the phone button and picked his number from the list of recent calls. My wrists still felt limp and weak, but I managed to press the phone against my ear. The ringtone vibrated through the phone, rattling through my already-shaking fingers.
Pick up…I need you…
“We’re sorry, but the number you are calling does not have a voice message system set up--”
“Where is he?” I grunted, dropping my phone and sinking back into the pillows.
“Vanessa, I’m sure there’s an explanation--”
“No,” I shook my head, too distraught to listen.
He’s supposed to be here for me. He told me that I could trust him. He promised he wouldn’t leave. Where is he?!
I realized that I was being hysterical, but I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t think about things rationally. My emotions were twisting and coiling inside of me, mutating just as rapidly as the series of high-pitched ‘beeps’ blaring from the EKG machine that was recording my heart rate.
“We’ll figure this out,” Summer promised me. “Let’s just take this one step at a time…”
I picked up my phone again, this time tapping open the web browser. My hands were shaking so badly that it took several attempts before I finally managed to type ‘Hartford Fire Department Firehouse 56’ into the search bar.
The Google search results immediately loaded up on my screen. The top result was a listing for Firehouse 56, including the address and a Google Maps aerial image of the station. I scrolled down, finding the firehouse phone number. I tapped the number with my thumb, and it automatically dialed.
I pressed the phone to my
ear and listened to the ringing.
Come on, come on, come on…
“Firehouse 56,” a deep voice answered. The voice sounded so familiar that, for a split second, I actually thought it was Josh. But I knew it wasn’t.
“Is this Brady?” I asked.
“Yes…who is this?”
“Vanessa.”
It struck me that I hadn’t actually seen or spoken to Brady since his wedding day. I hadn’t spoken to Cass in a while, either. It wasn’t intentional; we were both just so busy...
I wondered what Brady thought about all of this: the fact that Josh and I had gotten together at his wedding, or the fact that we were having a baby. I had never thought to ask Josh about how his brother took the news.
“Vanessa!” Brady recognized me, then he sounded confused again: “Are you looking for Cassidy? You know you dialed the firehouse, right?”
“I’m not looking for Cass. I’m trying to get ahold of Josh, actually. I’m in the hospital, and he’s not answering his phone and--”
“Wait, did you say Josh?” Brady asked, sounding even more confused. “And…did you say you’re in the hospital?”
“Yes,” I stammered as my throat started to close up. “I need to talk to him. They’re running tests on me and the baby, but I--”
“The baby?”
“Yes, I--”
“What baby?”
My hand went numb, and I could barely feel the phone between my fingers.
“What do you mean, ‘what baby’?! Our baby…”
“Vanessa, I’m sorry but…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Didn’t Josh tell you?”
“No. Josh hasn’t told me anything about a baby.”
That was the last thing I heard before the phone slipped from my grip and fell towards the tile floor of the hospital room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE | JOSH
“Your grandfather had a stroke,” the surgeon explained from across the sterile white desk in his sterile white office. Doctor Jurgen, according to the name embroidered on the breast of his sterile white lab coat.
He looked way too young to be a ‘doctor.’ He definitely looked too young to be holding my grandfather’s life in his dainty, uncalloused hands.
February Burning: A Firefighter Secret Baby Romance Page 13