by Tania Joyce
Fatigue took hold. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
***
When the door opened and hit the wall with a thud, Hunter woke with a start. The sun had not fully risen, but light filtered in through the sides of the window blinds. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. The digital clock on the wall blazed 6:37 a.m. He’d been asleep for close to six hours. Unbelievable.
Dr. Blakley and two other male doctors in white coats came into the room.
Kara stretched and sat up in her bed. She glanced at the doctors, then at him. Her eyes shone bright, and she smiled. “Hey Hunt, I didn’t know you stayed. Thank you.” Then she turned to the doctors. “Isn’t it too early for rounds?”
Hunter sat up and the air turned to ice. The steely hardness on each of the doctors’ faces made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He leapt to his feet and stepped toward Kara’s bed. “What’s going on?”
“Kara. Hunter.” Dr. Blakley hugged her clipboard to her chest. Her eyes were void of emotion. “There were some complications with Ryan.”
Hunter clutched Kara’s hand.
Dr. Blakley lifted her chin, stood up straighter. “We did everything we could . . . but I’m sorry. He wasn’t strong enough. He passed away during our efforts to stabilize him.”
“NOOOOO!” Kara screamed. Tears burst from her eyes.
“What?” Hunter’s knees buckled. His whole body shook. He braced himself against the edge of the bed to stop collapsing to the floor.
“I don’t believe you,” Kara bawled, throwing her blankets off her legs. “Take me to my baby?”
Hunter lunged for her, pulled her into his embrace, and held her tight. Her whole body trembled as she beat him with her fists. “Not Ryan. Please don’t let them take Ryan from me. He’s all I have. Not Ryan. Please. Not Ryan.”
His heart was on fire. Tears burned his eyes as he held Kara closer.
“Our team did everything possible.” The coldness in the doctor’s voice was like a thousand steely daggers driven into Hunter’s chest. “I’m sorry. He was too weak. His organs failed.”
“He was fine last night when I left him.” Shock, anger, fury, and disbelief hissed through Hunter’s teeth. “How could this happen?”
“I’m truly sorry for your loss.” Dr. Blakley stepped closer to the bed. “I know this is hard. We’ll give you some time alone. When you’re ready, I will arrange for him to be brought here for you to say your goodbyes.”
“Nooooo. No,” Kara cried, clutching onto his arm like he was a lifebuoy. “Bring him here now. Please. Please bring me Ryan.”
“We’ll arrange it as soon as it is possible.” The short, stumpy doctor with thick black glasses said.
“Would you like a photographer as well?” the other doctor asked. Pediatrician: Jonathan Forbes was printed boldly on his ID badge. “There’s also paperwork and arrangements we need to go through.”
Hunter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The doctors just wanted to go through procedures and documentation?
“Get out,” Hunter snarled and pointed at the door. “Get out now.”
“We will. Take all the time you need.” Dr. Blakley nodded. “We’ll arrange for Ryan to be brought in to you within the next fifteen minutes. If you need anything else, please let me know. Once again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
When the door closed behind them, Kara wailed. She clutched onto his shirt. Her tears soaked through to his skin. He wanted to scream, yell, and curse the world, but he needed to be strong for Kara, even though his own insides had been ripped apart.
He rested his head against hers and inhaled the floral scent of her hair, hoping it would somehow miraculously stop the pain that speared his spleen. But it didn’t. His heart hurt and shuddered with every breath. He wanted it all to stop. Wanted it all to go away.
“Kar, I’m so sorry. I should have stayed with him last night,” he whispered, and kissed the top of her head.
“We lost our baby.” She convulsed and cried. “We lost our Ryan.”
“Shh.” He closed his eyes to stop them stinging. But it didn’t work.
Kara didn’t let go of him. The tears didn’t stop flowing.
They intensified the moment the nurse wheeled Ryan into the room inside a crib.
Hunter’s chest heaved when he looked down at his son. Swaddled in a pale blue baby blanket, Ryan looked like he was sleeping. The tubes were gone, and his red skin was not as flushed, but his tiny eyes were still clamped shut.
The nurse ran through some protocol. Security. Outside the door. Something about it being necessary to ensure babies weren’t stolen. It was nothing but a muffled ringing in his ears before she backed out of the room and left them alone.
“Hunt, give him to me.” Kara grabbed the triangle bar above her head, winced and heaved herself up straight. She rubbed her swollen abdomen, then held out her arms to Ryan.
“What?” Hunter’s stomach flipped. Ryan was dead. He was torn, in two frames of mind, afraid to touch him, but desperate to do so as well.
“Hunter, please.” The plea in her voice sliced his heart. “This will be the only chance I get to hold my baby. Please, give him to me.”
Making his way over to the crib, his knees wobbled. Each footstep seemed to take one thousand years. His feet seemed to weigh one thousand tons. Gently, he slid his hands underneath Ryan and lifted him. His son’s miniature body fit into the length of his hand. So light, fragile, and petite. A sob escaped Hunter’s lips. He leaned down and kissed Ryan’s forehead, warm and soft. His boy still smelled just like a newborn. He closed his eyes, begging for his son to wake up and this to all be a nightmare. But Ryan’s body lay lifeless and still.
He turned to Kara and handed her their baby. She cradled him close to her chest and stroked his tiny face and head. “He’s so perfect.”
Hunter sat next to her, his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, he is. With those long fingers of his, he would’ve been a great piano player.”
“And with his handsome face, he’s just like you.” She drew her fingertips across Ryan’s brow.
“Nah, he looks more like you. Picture perfect in every way.”
Kara nudged her elbow into his side. “You’re only saying that to make me feel better.”
“I mean it, Kar. With his little ears, round face, and cute chin, he definitely takes after you.” He rested his head against hers. As he stared down at his son, each breath was like a spear through his lungs. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Can I ask a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Can we get the photos with him? Is that wrong?”
“No. Not at all.”
Hunter made the arrangements with the hospital staff. After photos and selfies, Kara kissed Ryan on the head. “I love you, little man. May the angels watch over you in heaven.” Carefully, she handed him to Hunter. “Here, take him. Otherwise I’ll never be able to let him go.”
Hunter snuggled Ryan, staring down at him. Memorizing every little feature and detail of his son’s precious face. He didn’t want to let him go. Couldn’t let him go.
“Hunt? It’s time,” Kara whispered, tears glistening in her eyes.
He sniffled, pressed his lips to Ryan’s cheek, and placed him back in the crib. He wiped the dampness from his eyes, but his heart was broken. How the hell am I supposed to go on after this?
He staggered and collapsed on the end of the bed.
Kara curled her arms around herself. “I don’t want to say goodbye to him.”
“Neither do I.” Hunter’s vision blurred. “Don’t think I can.”
When he saw how pale and drained of energy Kara was, he dug deep to draw on any remnant of strength he had remaining. He had to keep it together for her. Push all this emotion aside. Suppress it. Kill it. Avoid it. Like he’d always done. It was the only way to move on.
Sucking in jagged breaths, he seized a fine thread of composure. “You want me to make some calls? Your parents?
Your sister? Shit . . . I better call my mom and dad. Kyle and Gem too.”
Kara closed her eyes and forced a nod. But then she fell back against the pillow, curled on her side, and bawled.
Pain and heartache splintered his bones. He grabbed his cell phone from his jacket. Every breath he took pummeled against his heart. These calls would be the hardest he’d ever have to make.
Chapter 19
Propped up on the sofa in Hunter’s apartment, Kara ignored the people who had come after the funeral service. She’d slipped into darkness. Her mind had shut down. Saying goodbye to Ryan had been too hard. The past four days had been a haze. She’d gone along with whatever Hunter had said. He’d brought her home from the hospital, dealt with the media lurking outside their apartment buildings, and organized today. He’d done everything for her, but she didn’t care. Ryan was dead. Her sanctuary was numbness. Her heart was nothing but a black hole.
Kara drew the woolen blanket over her legs, too weary and weak to stand. The Cutifilm waterproof dressing covering her cesarean scar tweaked and pulled her skin. Her boobs hurt every time she thought of Ryan. Her floppy belly, a constant reminder he was gone.
She wanted everyone to leave. Being surrounded by friends and family did nothing to raise her spirits. All their pity and sorrow draped over her like a shroud. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t escape.
“Kar, want one of these?” Gemma slipped in beside her, resting her butt on the arm of the sofa, and waved a plate of mini quiches in front of her. “They are freaking delicious.”
The smell of egg and bacon curdled Kara’s stomach. “No, thanks.”
“You have to eat.” Gemma took a bite of one and chewed. “I love Lillian’s cooking. She’s the best. Are you sure you don’t want one?”
Hunter’s family had flown in from Chicago two days ago. Lillian had insisted on preparing all the food for the gathering today. Kara hadn’t objected. She didn’t even want a wake to happen.
Kara grabbed another tissue from the box beside her and dabbed her watery eyes. “I’m fine, Gem. Really.”
“Oh, sweetie. Don’t cry again. Let me go get rid of this food, and I’ll be back to give you an extra big hug.” Gemma slid off the sofa and rushed toward the kitchen.
Kara felt him even before she glanced in his direction. That magnetic tug drew her. Dressed in a sharp black suit, shirt, and tie, Hunter stood, leaning against the grand piano. His eyes were glassed over by a sadness that reflected her own. He held her gaze, peering over the crystal rim of his JD on ice. Hayden and Lexi were talking to him, but it didn’t look like he was listening.
Without excusing himself, he made his way toward her. Sitting down beside her, he hooked his arm around her shoulder, and rested his head against hers. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, absorbed his citrusy cologne into every cell in her body. It helped her keep herself together.
“This sucks,” he whispered.
A heaviness swelled in her chest. Her vision blurred through watery eyes. “I miss Ryan. So much. Every time I breathe it hurts.”
He downed his drink and placed the glass on the coffee table. He took her hand in his. Usually she got tingles and warmth from his touch. Now she got nothing. Her body was dead. It had died with Ryan.
Hunter glanced vacantly across the crowd—her parents and Naomi hovered by the windows with her cousin, Jenny rushed around with platters of food, and their friends clustered in small groups, talking in hushed voices. He turned back to her, his eyes searching her face. “Do you want to do something crazy?”
A puff of air shot through her nose. “Being crazy is how we ended up here.”
Hurt flickered in his eyes as he circled his thumb over the back of her hand.
“I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand. “What do you want to do?”
“Do you wanna get out of here? Get out of town for a few days?”
Her chest tightened. “What? Where? How?” What was he thinking? She needed to rest after her operation. She tried to clear her head, but grief kept fogging her thoughts.
“Hold on.” He jumped up from the sofa, weaved around a few of her friends from work, and dragged Kyle and Gemma back with him. They sat on the end of the chaise and Hunter returned to sit beside her. “Kyle, are you using the beach house over the next few days?”
“No.” Kyle said with an are-you-kidding-me tone. “It’s the end of March, dude. It’ll be freezing out there.”
“Can I use it?” Hunter asked. “Kara and I need some timeout.”
Why did he know exactly what she needed?
“You want us to come with you?” Gemma gaze jumped from Kara to Hunter and back again.
“No.” Hunter shook his head. “We’ll be fine.”
Gemma clutched Kyle’s hand, gave him a reassuring nod before she turned to Hunter. “Do you want us to cancel the rest of tour?”
Kara’s heart sank to the floor at the sight of the furrows etched into Hunter’s brow. She rubbed his arm and rested her head back against the sofa. Everhide had canceled another three weeks of shows, erasing all their Asian tour dates, but the last four weeks in South America hadn’t been ruled out.
“I can’t think about that right now, Gem.” Hunter threaded his fingers into his hair and ripped them through the loose strands. “I just need a few days to sort stuff out.”
“The beach house is yours.” Kyle stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. “When do you want to go?”
“Now.”
Kara’s eyes widened, and she wiped her runny nose with a tissue. “Now? We can’t leave now. All these people are here. Your family has to fly back to Chicago tomorrow morning.”
“They’ll understand.” Hunter stretched and cracked his neck, one side then the other. “Are you in?”
Gemma slid her arm around Kyle’s waist. “Kar. Go. We’ll look after everyone. Go and get over the craze of the past few days.”
“Gem, I don’t know if that’s possible.” Kara couldn’t think straight. All she wanted to do was cry. And be alone. She didn’t care where.
“A few days away might do you some good.” Gemma came over, sat beside her and gave her a warm hug.
“I love you, Gem.” She squeezed Gemma tight, then turned to Hunter. Every time she looked at him, it hurt. He reminded her of Ryan. He was the only connection left to their son. And she never wanted to let that go. Ever. “Are you sure about this?”
“No. But I want to go.”
Anywhere was better than sitting at home with a constant stream of visitors reminding her of her loss and making her feel worse. She slumped her shoulders and whispered, “Me too.”
“Give me ten minutes and we’ll be out of here.” His tone took on a sense of urgency. “We’ll do a quick stop via your place to grab your things and head off.”
Her pulse showed the first signs of life in days. She didn’t know if being alone with him in the outreaches of Long Island would help, but he was the only one who knew how she felt. She wanted to grieve, cry, scream, and shout with no one looking on her with pity. He’d come up with the perfect plan. Just what she needed. With Hunter, she could escape.
***
Kara couldn’t remember dozing off on the drive out to Long Island. The constant revs of Hunter’s GT Ford supercar must have lulled her to sleep. She stirred in the plush leather seat when the tires crunched on the gravel driveway leading up to Kyle’s beach house.
It was nearly dark. Low clouds hovered with the threat of rain. Wind swept along the beach, rustling the dune grass in rippling waves. The ocean, unsettled and menacing, thrashed against the shore.
Hunter killed the engine, but Kara didn’t move. She sat staring at the house. Its weathered shingles had seen better days. The hand-railing on the stairs leading into the house needed repair. The landscaping and overgrown hedges were in need of maintenance. This quaint house, hidden away from neighbors and the nearby town, would be her private getaway for the next few days. Somehow, she had to fi
nd her way back toward the light. But she couldn’t see the path.
Half the nation would know she was here with Hunter by now. The paparazzi had been loitering outside their apartments for days, desperate to get the all-essential shot of them at their worst. It was hard enough having to deal with grief, but having her haggard face stuck all over the news made her want to dig a hole and hide.
Hunter jumped out of the car, rushed around to her side, and opened the door. The hydraulic lift whooshed, and frigid ocean air hit her face. She took his hand, but when she stood, her knees wobbled, and her head spun.
“Kar? You got your feet or not?”
“I think so.” She took one step and staggered. “Just sore and stiff after the drive.”
“I know you’re supposed to walk, but we’re about to be drenched. Let’s speed this up. Can I carry you?” Before she finished her nod, he scooped her up in his arms. With her hands looped around his neck, he carried her up the stairs. She curled in close to him, nuzzled her face against his neck. She didn’t want him to let her go. The scent of his cologne was the only thing that calmed her fragile mind. The warmth from his body was a protective shield against the weather.
He placed her gently onto her feet on the landing and opened the door. Holding her steady, he helped her cross to the faded floral sofa.
“Comfortable?” he asked, grabbing her every cushion in sight.
“Yeah, thanks.” She shuffled around, and he tucked a fleecy throw blanket over her legs.
“I’ll go grab our stuff before that rain hits.” He dashed outside at lightning speed.
The musty smell from the house wrinkled her nose, and the cold air seeped into her bones. Isolation hit her. There was no city hustle and bustle around her to occupy her mind. No sirens. No alarms. No crowds. She grabbed a cushion and crushed it to her chest. The numbness that had been in place warped, twisted, and erupted in a flash of pain. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her chin trembled, and she curled into the back of the sofa. With a loud sob burning her throat, she cried.