Hell Bent (Rock Bottom #1) (24 page)

“I’m a
mom
,” Izzy whispers for probably the hundredth time in the past few hours since he finally made his screaming entrance into the world. 

All her worrying about something being wrong with him because of the things she did before she knew she was pregnant were put to rest the second the nurse handed him over. There’s nothing wrong with him, but I don’t think after that moment that it would have made a difference with how we feel about him. I’ve always sworn there was no such thing as instantaneous love, but he proved me wrong today.

“You should sleep,” I mumble back. Our families left about an hour ago, and she’s been fighting it since. I know it’s only six and she won’t sleep for long, but anything is better than nothing. “Why don’t I call the nurse and have her take him to the nursery?”

“I don’t want him to go.”

“But you won’t stop looking at him or touching him if he’s in the room and that’s not sleeping.” I run the tips of my fingers across her cheek when she looks up at me and smiles. She knows I’m right. “Just for a few hours so you can get some sleep.”

As soon as I buzz the nurse, my phone beeps. A text message from Greg fills my screen telling me he’s in the lobby. He came back like I asked him to. I had so much shit to ask him about earlier, but I couldn’t leave Izzy’s side long enough to get the answers I needed. I follow the nurse out and get to the elevators as the doors open. I don’t say anything to Greg as he steps off, I just tip my head in the direction of the nursery window and hope he follows. I can’t take my eyes off the bassinet as they wheel Dalton into place, not even when Greg steps up next to me.

“You didn’t have to say that earlier. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I did, man. That’s your kid. He’s been yours the entire time. You know as well as I do that genetics don’t mean shit when it comes to parents. Just like her. She’s yours. It should’ve been you in the first place.”

He’s right, I
do
know. Neither of us normally admit it, but we’re technically step-brothers. His mother left his father for mine, leaving both of us with one parent so they could act like they didn’t have kids at all. We’d much rather tell people that we’re friends than explain our fucked up family dynamic. Except Izzy. Izzy knows, but only because she’s the one person I refuse to have any secrets from in my life.

“I hate asking, but why was she with you earlier?”

Greg laughs, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “I figured you wouldn’t have let her come alone if you knew she was coming to my house.” He sighs, running his fingers through his dark hair. “She came to ask if I would sign papers so you could legally be the kid’s dad.”

“Oh…”
How the hell has that issue not even crossed my mind?

“Then I got to thinking about it when the nurse asked me if I was his father.”

“Thinking about what?” Greg thinking is not usually a good thing, so it has my mind reeling. 

“Why have that paper trail if we don’t need it? It just makes more sense to tell everyone that you’re the father since almost everyone thinks you are anyway. Court records aren’t hard to get your hands on if you know where to go, and there’s no need to have to go through all that extra shit when you can just sign your name on the birth certificate instead of me.”

“And if someone finds out?”

“We tell them we didn’t know and worry about it then. You were there that night too. If someone saw us leave together that night and wants to say something, who’s to say it wasn’t you she ended up in bed with?”

“I don’t even know how to begin to thank you.”

Stepping back up next to me, he follows my gaze and for a second I wonder if he’s thinking about changing his mind.

“Just take care of him, of
both
of them.”

“Always,” I promise him. 

A wicked smile splits his face. “And maybe the number of the hot as hell, blonde chick that was in here earlier.”

“Willow?” He nods, and I shake my head. “You do know that she was there that night, right? And if that doesn’t wreck any chance you have at her, the fact that she doesn’t date will.”

“Shit.” He shrugs while smirking. “It was worth a shot.”

“Thanks for bringing her earlier,” I say after a few minutes of silence.

“Uncle Greg to the rescue,” he says sarcastically. Resting his hands against the wall, he attempts to catch his breath but it does nothing but make his laughing worse. “Fucking literally! I’m fucking Uncle Greg as soon as you sign that paper. And shit… You’re a
dad
.”

I begin to laugh alongside him. I don’t know why, but for some reason at this exact second, the thought is hilarious to me. “Holy fucking shit, I’m a parent.”

“As long as you’re better than some that we know, you’ll be fine.” When he finally catches his breath, he stands up and grips the back of my neck. “We good?”

I could tell him no, I could be an asshole, but what good would that do me? Am I OK with him calling Izzy a whore? No, I’m still not over it, but he’s giving us this and Izzy seems to be fine with him now, so I should probably be a decent human about it too.

“We’re golden.”

“Good, go back to your woman. I’m gonna go find my own pussy for the night.”

He turns to walk away but when I call his name he looks back at me. I smile. “Wash your hands this time.”

His gaze drops from my eyes for a second, trying to figure out what I mean, and as soon as what I told him the day we fought hits him, he gives me the finger. “Fuck you, asshole.”

“It’d be the best you ever have,” I joke.

“Probably, but I’m not a homewrecker. Now fuck off back to your woman and text me later.”

He’s right, I should go back in with her, and after a few more minutes of watching Dalton through the glass, I do just that. I crawl in next to her, grateful for the oversized beds in the maternity wing. Like a gravitational pull, Izzy automatically rolls, snuggling into my chest without waking up.

I’m not sure how long I sleep, or if I actually do, but I’m woken up by Izzy shifting around and people rushing past the room.

I brush the hair out of her face and laugh when I notice she’s holding her chest. “What’s the matter?”

“My tits hurt,” she whines. Reaching over me, she pages the nurses' station, asking them to bring Dalton back in so she can nurse him. The nervousness in the nurse’s voice puts me on edge, but I push it aside, figuring I’m making it up in my head. “It’s not even eight? Seriously? I’m exhausted and feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Well, you did just push an eight-pound baby out of your body.”

Izzy opens her mouth to say something, but we’re interrupted by the nurse knocking on the door. Sitting up, Izzy’s face lights up until she notices that the nurse doesn’t have Dalton with her, but she is accompanied by two police officers. The grip that she has on my hand tightens more than it ever did while she was pushing. When the nurse opens her mouth, telling us that Dalton is missing from the ward, the world crashes down around us.

Do you know what it’s like to be told that your child—a child that is only a few hours old—is missing? No? Well, I wish I could say the same, but as of last night, I’m no longer that lucky. 

The past ten hours have been the longest, most excruciating hours of my life. No matter how many times I looked at the clock throughout the night, it never seemed to change. The second hand simply mocked me with its ticking, not actually doing its job of moving the minute and hour hands. The pitch black of the night sky seemed to take forever to lighten even though it seemed like the sun should’ve been up for hours every time I looked. I’ve never cried so much and my mood keeps jumping off different cliffs. I can’t decide if I want to be petrified because I don’t know where my son is, or if I want to be furious because he went missing from a secure room. I can’t get a grip on…anything, really. I blame the nurses, I blame Bennett, but most of all, I blame myself. I should’ve known. Everyone told me about mother’s intuition. Shouldn’t that kick in when your child goes missing? He was gone for hours and I was asleep. I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to go to sleep again after this.

I can’t move, can’t breathe, and without Dalton, I’m not sure I want to do either anyway. I wish there was some way to make this horrible, empty feeling go away. I wish turning to alcohol or turning to someone else would take it away, but I know nothing will work, and as much as I want to backtrack and drown myself in a bottle of vodka, I know it won’t do me any good. The only thing that will make anything better is to have my son back in my arms.

“He had a monitor on for Christ’s sake! He was supposed to be safe here. How does a baby go missing from the hospital?” I scream, sobbing into Bennett’s chest. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me closer, and I fist my hands into his shirt. We’re surrounded by family, but the only person I want to be near as we wait for news is Bennett. Lifting my face to his, he sweeps his thumb under my eyes, wiping the tears away, but they are replaced immediately.

“What can I do?”

I know he’s just as upset as I am, but he’s asking what he can do for
me
. The thought makes me cry harder. I hate how good he is being to me. “Find him,” I beg. “Find him, bring our baby back.”

“They’re trying, beautiful, they’re trying.”

I begin to push out of his grasp, suddenly needing space from him—from everything and everyone. “I feel like I’m suffocating.”

I’m tired of people telling me that they’re trying. That’s all I’ve heard since the second they told us that Dalton was missing and it’s pissing me off. They need to stop telling me that they are doing everything they can, because I won’t believe it until he is found. I want to scream, to take things into my own hands even though I know it won’t do much good. Pushing away from Bennett is harder than I thought it would be, but pushing my IV stand in front of me, I continue walking, ignoring everyone telling me to stop until I’m outside in the courtyard. 

The fresh air that I was hoping would help calm my nerves a bit does nothing but make me feel worse. I forgot that it was February and cold out when I left the room, but the cold doesn’t even touch the numbness that I’m already feeling. I know soon enough that someone is going to come find me, most likely Bennett.

I lower myself to the ground, not caring that it’s covered in snow and it is soaking through my thin hospital pants, and I pick a spot on the side of the wall to focus on, ignoring the pain I’m in. I know nothing is going to take my mind off what is going on, but I’m going to try anything and everything I can think of.

My alone time doesn’t last nearly long enough before someone walks up behind me and drapes their jacket over my shoulders. Bennett’s scent surrounds me, giving me the smallest bit of comfort, and he drops down beside me.

“Why is this happening? Why
our
baby? How could the woman that brought me into this world be so cruel? And for what? Money? How fucking selfish can someone be?  What are we going to do if they can’t find her, or they find her but she doesn’t have him anymore? How could she do this to me after everything she’s already done?”

I rattle off every question that pops into my mind even though I know he doesn’t have answers for them. Instead of telling me that he knows, or that everything is going to be all right, Bennett grabs my hand but stays quiet. He knows as well as I do that nothing anyone says is going to make this better. Still not caring that we’re outside on the ground, I slowly lie on my side and rest my head in his lap. Everything hurts from yesterday, but nothing hurts more than my heart. Pain is better than feeling numb or feeling my shattering heart break apart piece by piece.

“How are we supposed to go home without him? I can’t go home without my baby.”

“Izzy,” Tuesday calls out gently from behind me. Sitting up, I turn and look at her. She doesn’t attempt to smile when she talks to me, and the sadness is written across her face so it wouldn’t matter if she tried to mask her voice anyway. She’s family and her heart is breaking along with mine, with ours. “The press conference you requested is set up outside.”

Standing up, I brush the snow from my ass and attempt to run my fingers through my tangled hair. I can only imagine how bad I look. It doesn’t matter, though; I’m fully covered but I’ll never feel as naked as I will when I step in front of those cameras and bare my soul.