Say You Love Me (Welcome To Redemption #9)

by Donna Marie Rogers

“Not exactly what I was thinking, but…yeah. So, I need to go now.” The rapping grew harder, insistent. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  After ending the call, she unlocked the door and swung it open. When the light from her foyer spilled across Mike’s handsome face, she was taken aback by the cold fury radiating from his eyes. He didn’t wait to be invited in, but stepped across the threshold into her foyer, his movements aggressive.

  “Is something wrong?”

  He grasped her by the elbow and pulled her through the living room into the kitchen.

  A frisson of fear unraveled inside her chest. “What the hell is the matter with you?” she demanded in a furious whisper, wrenching her arm free. “Have you lost your mind?”

  He simply stared at her, hard, as if trying to see deep down into her soul. His fists clenched and unclenched, and she took a step back as dread started a slow throbbing at the base of her skull.

  “Mike…?”

  “Is Noah my son?”

  Her heart stopped. Time stood still for moment while she desperately gathered her wits, scrambling to understand how he could have possibly discovered the truth. Only she knew how—his mother figured it out, just as she’d feared.

  She glanced toward the stairs, praying Noah still had his headphones in. “How did you…?”

  “Then it’s true. Holy shit, he’s mine.” His eyes glazed over in shock, and he stumbled back, tripping on the area rug. He caught himself as he gripped the back of one of the chairs, which thumped against the hardwood floor. He yanked it around and dropped down, as if his legs couldn’t hold him up anymore.

  “I was going to tell you, I—”

  “Don’t fucking lie to me!” He seemed to catch himself, craned his neck to glance behind him, and continued in a chillingly low tone. “Why? I mean, how could you keep my own kid from me?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest as a surge of defensive anger bubbled to the surface; tears stung her eyes. “You mean the kid you told me to abort? You told me to kill our child, Mike. Have you conveniently forgotten that?”

  The reminder seemed to take some of the wind from his sails. “I didn’t…you know I didn’t mean—”

  “I was fifteen years old. The only thing I knew was that the boy I loved with all my heart, who I thought was going to happily throw his arms around me and tell me everything would be wonderful, told me to kill our child. As if it were a lame horse or something.”

  He shot to his feet with a curse and came around the table, and for a second, she wasn’t sure what he meant to do. Of course, she knew he’d never physically harm her, but the full force of his anger was something she’d never really experienced before. Only with John yesterday.

  She held him off with an outthrusted palm. “You stay the hell away from me.”

  With a low growl, he swiped his fingers through his hair, then propped his hands on his hips. “You wouldn’t talk to me in school, you wouldn’t take my calls. When I finally worked up the courage to come to your house a couple weeks later, before I could even get one word out, you told me you’d lost the baby.”

  “I wasn’t going to abort my child, so we had nothing more to discuss.”

  “But that’s just it. I was there to tell you I’d talked to my parents, and that everything would be okay, and how sorry I was. But you never gave me a chance.”

  Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and her face crumpled as a paralyzing wave of sorrow and regret nearly brought her to her knees. If only she’d have let him speak before rushing into the monologue she’d practiced after agreeing to let her dad and Natalie adopt their child.

  At the time, it had seemed like her only solution. Mike didn’t want their child, but Natalie, who had been unable to conceive, desperately wanted a baby. And as much as she already loved the life growing inside of her, Bernie knew at fifteen, she could never be the kind of mother her child deserved, or needed.

  “I didn’t know,” she murmured, her hands shaking. “How could I have known?”

  A thump at the bottom of the stairs had her twirling around in panic. Sure enough, there stood Noah, his face a mask of shocked horror, his hands balled into fists.

  Mike slowly approached him, but Noah swung around and snarled, “You’re not my father, you piece of shit! My father is Thomas Mitchell!”

  He turned to face Bernie; she recoiled from the pure venom seeping from his gaze. “I hate you, hear me? You’re not my sister, and you’re definitely not my mother!” With that, he sprinted through the living room, out the front door, and into the nearly black night.

  They gazed at each other for a pulse-pounding moment before springing into action. Mike was faster, and by the time she reached the front door, he was just disappearing over the hill toward the intersection of Pine and Birch. She took off after them, but before she knew it, she tripped over a stone and went sprawling, hitting the curb hard. Dazed and scraped up, she pushed herself to her feet and kept running.

  “Noah! Watch out!” she heard Mike scream a split second before the screech of tires rent the air followed by a loud, sickening thump.

  God, please, no! Suddenly all she could hear was a deafening whirring in her ears, and as she crested the hill, her worst fears were realized. A dark SUV stood idling in the road, it’s headlights bathing the ground where a crumpled body lay.

  “Noah!”

  A vehicle door slammed. A man’s frantic voice joined them. “My God, I’m so sorry! H-He came out of nowhere.”

  She ran as fast as she could to her son’s side, dropping to her knees as panicked sobs stole her breath.

  “We know, it wasn’t your fault,” Mike told the guy as he crouched down on the other side of Noah. He carefully pressed two fingers against his throat.

  “Mike?”

  “His pulse is steady,” he said, and she glanced up to realize he wasn’t talking to her, but had a phone pressed to his ear. “Thanks.” He thumbed the cell to end the call, then met her gaze. “Help’s on the way.”

  She reached out to place a gentle hand on her son’s face, but Mike stopped her. “Honey, until we know the extent of his injuries it’s best not to touch him.”

  She nodded and pulled her hand back, gazing at her son in abject misery. “This is all my fault. He was playing video games with his headphones in. I didn’t think he’d hear us, but…” Her face fell as fresh sobs racked her. He lay still as death, and she ached to gather him in her arms, to will life into his too-still form.

  Mike’s eyes, so full of remorse and guilt, betrayed his cool, confident tone as he assured her, “He’ll be fine. He’s a fighter, has been from the moment he was conceived.”

  Unable to form words, she merely nodded, soaking in his strength like a dry sponge. She thought she heard ambulance sirens in the background, and her hope soared.

  “Noah,” Mike commanded in a soft voice, “Can you hear me? I know you’re incredibly angry right now, but I need you to say something if you can.”

  Nothing but deafening silence.

  “Noah, please,” she added on a soft sob. “Say something, say anything.”

  The faint whining of sirens grew louder, until an ambulance flew down the street toward them, lights flashing. A police car arrived seconds later.

  Mike stood and helped her to her feet as the paramedics rushed forward. He gripped her shoulders and gazed at her with serious intent. “Honey, I have to talk to Coop. Will you be all right?”

  She nodded, though at that moment, she was pretty sure she’d never be all right again. And if her son didn’t make it, she’d never forgive herself.

  Mike gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze before rushing off. After that, everything happened in a blur. Before she knew it, she and Mike were in the ambulance with Noah on the way to the hospital.

  He had a broken arm, numerous cuts and contusions, and he’d yet to regain consciousness. Bernie was as scared as she’d ever been in her life. Fresh tears blurred her vision, and it was all she could do to keep fro
m completely losing it. After all these years, to finally have the freedom to tell him he was her son—not her brother—only to have him discover the truth in such a dreadful way, was eating her alive.

  “He’s going to be okay,” Mike assured her, grasping her hand.

  All she could manage was a nod as she stared at their son, praying for anything, any flicker of consciousness. But that precious face was so pale and lifeless…

  They arrived at the hospital, and Mike put his arm around her as they followed behind the paramedics who quickly wheeled Noah into the ER. His show of support was comforting, and probably more than she deserved. How ironic that Mike had been carrying around guilt all these years over her miscarriage, when in reality, she might very well be the reason they lose their child.

  “This is all my fault.”

  “No, this is on me,” Mike countered, “I came pounding at your door tonight demanding answers. I never stopped to think how it would affect Noah if he overheard us. I should have waited until I was calm, talked to you privately.”

  Before she could respond, a team of doctors and nurses rushed in, and she and Mike were ushered from the room with promises that their son was in the best possible hands. Mike led her to the waiting room and sat down beside her on one of the cushioned benches. She felt as if she were in a daze and couldn’t snap out of it.

  “I need to call my mom, let her know what’s happened,” he whispered against her temple. “She’s at the house watching Maddie.”

  She managed a nod, knowing she needed to do the same. “God, how she must hate me.”

  He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “No, never. She’s confused and a little shell-shocked; probably waiting by the phone for me to confirm her suspicions. But she’s always adored you. And I know she’ll want to come here and see…her grandson.”

  She turned to gaze up at him. “You were furious with me…I honestly thought you hated me. I would hate me. So…why are you being so wonderful?”

  He sighed and tightened his hold on her. “I could never hate you. Yes, we have a lot to talk about. But this…mess is on my shoulders, not yours. It was my failure as a man that led to every decision you made. We were so damn young…”

  “But you weren’t a man, you were only a year older than Noah is now. How could I have expected you to make a grown up decision after announcing I was pregnant? I’d had a couple of days for the news to set in. You were completely blindsided.”

  He leaned his head back and swallowed. Worry lines etched the corners of his mouth and eyes. “When you told me, all I could think about was that my dad would force us to break up if he found out, and I panicked. I was a bit of a troublemaker during middle school, and he’d already threatened to send me to live with my uncle once before.” He turned to gaze at her, his heart in his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you. You were my whole world. Ironic that I ended up losing both of you.”

  “Mike…” She reached out to caress his face, love for this man swelling her chest.

  Someone in a lab coat swept into the waiting room, and Bernie sat up in a rush.

  “I’m Dr. Bowman, and I’m looking for the family of Noah Mitchell?”

  Chapter 20

  “We’re his family,” Mike stated without thinking. Now that he knew Noah was his son, he couldn’t think of him as anything else.

  “We’re his parents,” Bernie amended, rushing forward, those amber eyes brimming with tears. “Please tell us he’s okay…?”

  “And in layman’s terms, Doc.”

  “Of course.” He cast Bernie a reassuring smile. “Noah broke his left arm. Both the ulna and radius bones were completely fractured, so he’ll need to wear his cast for eight to ten weeks. He has three fractured ribs, but as far as we can tell, no internal injuries. The most concerning injury is a large hematoma—goose egg—near his left temple. I don’t see any signs of a subdural hematoma, which would be bleeding inside the brain, but because he hasn’t regained consciousness yet, we’re prepping him for a CT scan to make sure. Overall, he was very lucky.”

  A powerful surge of overwhelming relief flooded Mike, nearly buckling his knees. He caught Bernie as she swayed against him with a soft cry and wrapped his arms around her.

  “You said he hasn’t regained consciousness yet,” Mike began. “How worrisome is that at this point?”

  “Unconsciousness isn’t uncommon with the type of the head trauma Noah suffered. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours are critical, however. And we’ll have a much better idea of the extent of his injuries after the scan.” He glanced at the wall clock. “Now would probably be a good time to make some phone calls, if you need to. Just head down to the café in the main lobby. You can use your cell phones, and also grab yourselves a cup of coffee.”

  “When can we see him?” Bernie asked, winding her arm through Mike’s. He grasped her shoulder in support.

  “The scan itself only takes about ten minutes. But if we need to follow up with an MRI, it’ll be a good hour or more. I’ll have someone come for you once Noah is settled back in the ER.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” Mike said as he pulled a sniffling Bernie against his side.

  Dr. Bowman gave a quick nod, directed another reassuring smile at Bernie, and swiftly headed back to the ER.

  “Let’s go get those phone calls made,” Mike said as he lead her from the waiting room. “And I think we’ll need those cups of coffee as well.”

  Bernie nodded as she wiped tears from her eyes. Mike wanted nothing more than to crush her in his arms, assure her Noah would be just fine. But they needed to call their families so Noah would be surrounded by loved ones when he regained consciousness.

  He had Bernie sit down while he grabbed them each a cup of coffee. She was unusually quiet, and seemed more fragile than he ever could have imagined. Damn, he hated seeing her like that. But as he returned to the table and set a paper cup down in front of her, she murmured her thanks.

  “I’d better call my mom. She and Dale…” She trailed off and took a panicked look around her. “I don’t have my purse. I completely forgot. Lucky I had my shoes on.”

  Mike pulled out his cell phone and handed it to her. “Give her a call, I can wait. She and Dale have a much longer ride than my mom.”

  Fifteen minutes later, calls made, and fortified with coffee, Mike led Bernie back to the waiting room. They’d barely had a chance to sit down before Dr. Bowman reappeared.

  “Please tell us it’s good news,” Bernie said as she grasped Mike’s hand.

  “The CT scan was clean, which is great news. No skull fractures, no bleeds.

  A huge bubble of relief popped in Mike’s chest.

  “But Noah’s being a bit stubborn.”

  “What do you mean?” Bernie asked, her words laced with alarm.

  “He hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”

  Mike gripped her hand a little tighter. “Is that something we should be worried about?”

  “As I said before, the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours are crucial.” He smiled to put them at ease. “But I have every reason to believe he’ll regain consciousness soon. We just need to be patient.”

  Until Noah opened his eyes and spoke to them—even if just to reiterate how much he hated them—nothing would alleviate his soul-crushing fear.

  “We’ve moved him to the ICU,” the doctor explained as he led the way. “He’ll need to be monitored closely until he does regain consciousness, so he’ll stay in the ICU for now. Please don’t be alarmed by his appearance; the bruising is starting to settle in, so he’s pretty colorful.”

  As soon as they saw him, Bernie cried out and rushed to his bedside. Tears stung Mike’s eyes as he strode up beside her and slipped his arm around her. A nurse stood on the other side of the bed removing a blood pressure cuff from their son’s arm.

  “He’s so…still.” She looked at Dr. Bowman. “Can he hear us?”

  “It’s quite possible. Feel free to talk to him, tell him how much y
ou love him. We’ll give you some privacy.” He nodded at the nurse, who offered a smile before they both exited the room.

  Bernie gripped Noah’s hand and leaned in close. “Hey, Doodle Bug. I know you hate when I call you that now; you’re too old for that silly nickname. But I need you to wake up and show me those big brown eyes. We have so much to talk about, but we can’t do anything until you wake up.” She glanced up at Mile as if to say, ‘your turn.’

  He cleared his throat, searching his brain for just the right thing to say. His son hated him, and if he didn’t wake up soon, but instead slipped into a deep coma, Mike would never forgive himself.

  “Noah, it’s Mike. I…I want you to know how sorry I am. Your…Bernie and I both just want a chance to make this right with you. Maybe over a cheeseburger at Hutch’s?”

  Okay, so he was grasping at straws. But who knew what it might take to make him fight for consciousness. All they could do was talk to him and hope he wasn’t too angry and heartbroken to fight his way back to them.

  After a curious sidelong glance at him, Bernie added, “Or Nino’s chicken parm. You really loved it. Cleaned your whole plate.”

  “Daddy?”

  Mike swung around in surprise at the sound of Maddie’s soft voice. Bernie stiffened beside him. He glanced at his mother, who stood behind his daughter. “Mom, I’m not sure Maddie should be here. She has school tomorrow, and—”

  “Michael, she wanted to come.” She looked past him to Bernie, almost as if in challenge. “And has every right to be here.”

  Bernie nodded and stepped out of his embrace, moving aside to make room for Maddie and his mom. He was grateful she didn’t engage her, since it was quite possible his mother had filled Maddie in on the fact Noah was her half-brother. But there would be time for talking later.

  Maddie ran up and clasped Bernie’s hand, which warmed his heart.

  His mother stepped forward a little more cautiously, her eyes bright with unshed tears as she gazed at her grandson, lying so still and lifeless. A soft sob escaped her and she looked at him utter helplessness. “I have no idea what to say to him,” she quietly admitted.