Page 25 of Bred By the Minotaur (DreamTogether Breeding Program #3)

Twenty-Two

Phoebe

The call wakes me up from a dead sleep. It’s a local number, and it made its way through my spam filter, so it must be something important.

I pick it up. “H-hello...?”

“Is this Phoebe?” asks a deep voice on the other end.

“Yes, this is she.”

“Ron here. Hank’s coworker. Hank’s on his way to the hospital right now. You should go meet him there.”

Wait, what? My mind reels. Hank, at the hospital?

“What happened?” I demand, sitting up straight in bed. “Is he okay?”

“No. He’s not. Go to the hospital now, Phoebe.”

Then the phone goes dead.

I leap out of bed, throw on my clothes, and rush up the stairs. I wake Milo by shaking him.

“Milo, we have to go. Come on.”

Eventually I rouse him, and when he asks what’s happened, all I can say is, “Your dad. I don’t know, but we’re going to the hospital.”

That’s all it takes. Milo starts crying as we get in the car, frantic to know what might be wrong.

“I’m sure he’ll be all right,” I say, but it’s an empty platitude. I have no idea what awaits us there, but my heart is beating a million miles a minute, my hands shaking on the wheel of the car.

I hope he’s okay. I can’t stand the idea that something happened to him tonight.

Finally, we’re there, and I’m holding back my own tears as we find parking. When we get in the front doors of the hospital, we head right to reception.

“Hank Pittsfield?” I ask.

The receptionist eyes us.

“This is his son,” I say, gesturing at Milo. “I’m the... nanny.”

She clicks a few times on her computer, and I’m itching to demand she show us to Hank now . I need to know what’s happened to him. Milo is still sniffling at my side, and I clutch his hand tighter.

“What’s your name?”

“Phoebe. Phoebe Harrigan.”

She clicks a few more times, and I’m impatiently waiting, grinding my teeth the more minutes tick by.

“ID please?”

I quickly slip it out of my wallet and hand it over, and she studies it before handing it back.

“Hank has you listed here. He’s in the ER right now.”

That’s what I was afraid of.

I hold Milo’s hand as we follow the signs toward the ER, turning this way and that but getting nowhere. Eventually, we’re stopped by a doctor on the third floor.

“You seem lost,” he says.

“I’m looking for Hank Pittsfield.” Instinctively, I pull Milo against me and stroke his hair. “He’s the firefighter.”

The doctor’s expression falters. “Oh, him.” He nods for me to follow down the hall. “He’s in surgery right now for his leg, but...” He shakes his head. “You should know he’s inhaled a lot of smoke.”

That’s not what I want to hear.

He shows us to some seats in the waiting room. Milo cries in my lap, and I hold him tight, trying not to cry myself. I call Imelda to tell her where we are and what’s happened to Hank.

Finally, we’re allowed in to see him. My minotaur. He’s hooked up to machines, all of them beeping. His eyes are closed, and his leg is splinted and wrapped. He’s not moving.

Fuck . Not Hank. Please, not Hank. My face feels tight and my pulse thunders even faster, because I can’t believe it’s him there, beat up and unconscious.

“His heart is trying its hardest,” the doctor says with a pitying look. “It’s fighting, but it’s an uphill fight.”

Milo breaks into renewed tears and rushes to his dad’s side. He grabs Hank’s big hand with his tiny one.

“Dad!” he cries out, but his dad doesn’t answer.

I kneel beside Milo and pull him into my arms, patting his newly trimmed hair. I have nothing to tell him to make it better.

“Is he going to survive?” I ask the doctor in a quiet voice.

He looks down at Milo, then at me, and lets out a resigned sigh. When he speaks, he speaks so only I can hear. “It depends on Hank. The next few hours are going to be critical.”

At that moment, Imelda rushes into the room. She grabs Milo and hugs him tight as they both cry next to Hank’s bed.

The doctor takes that moment to pull me aside. “I want to prepare you for the worst. If he inhaled too much, it could cause organ failure. Or he could have a heart attack.”

My own tears finally break free as he says these words to me.

“We don’t know,” the doctor says quickly. “Hopefully he’ll wake up soon—that would be a good sign.”

Hank can’t. He just can’t. I still had so many things I needed to tell him. I should have said yes when he asked me to marry him, so he would know that I loved him even if we never saw each other again.

No, I can’t think like that. I need to believe that someone as strong and determined as Hank can do it.

The doctor leaves us, and we all take up positions around the room as Hank’s machines beep. Milo falls asleep with his head on his grandmother’s lap.

“Tell me how bad it is,” Imelda whispers to me.

I clench my hands into fists and breathe hard so I don’t cry again. “They’re monitoring his oxygen levels, which are dangerously low, and pumping him full of it.”

She drops her head, and I rub her shoulder with one hand.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Phoebe.” She puts her hand on top of mine and smiles at me. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad Milo has you right now.”

I cover my face, the guilt nearly devouring me.

“He asked me to marry him,” I finally say, hiding behind my fingers. “He asked me, and I said I didn’t know. He told me he loved me, and I didn’t say it back. What if... what if I never get the chance?”

I try to keep my voice quiet as it shakes.

“Oh, honey.” She squeezes my hand. “You will. I promise you will. Hank is a fighter. He’s fought for you since the moment he met you, and he’s not going to stop now.”

What? Since he met me?

“At DreamTogether?” I ask.

“Mm-hmm. I think he figured it out the first time, when you had Milo. I’m almost positive he knew then you were meant to be.”

Even back then, I was special to him? Just like he was to me?

Hank. The sturdiest man—or monster—I’ve ever met. As dependable as a mountain and yet so warm and vulnerable. He opened his home and his heart to me easily, and has never held it against me that I wasn’t ready.

I can’t let him go. Not ever.

As the hours pass, Imelda falls asleep, too. Soon, morning sun creeps in the high windows of the hospital room. I’m not sure how many hours have gone by when I hear Hank’s quiet voice muffled by the oxygen mask.

“Phoebe?”

I sit up straight, and my eyes dart to Hank’s face. His lids are half-open, like he’s exhausted. His hand reaches for me.

“Hank!” I try not to say it too loud as I stumble over to the hospital bed. I wrap his fingers up in mine. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“You, too,” he says with a faint smile. “I’m glad you were here when I opened my eyes.” His gaze veers over to Milo, and his smile widens. “My sweet boy.”

I nod and hold his hand tighter, wishing I could hug him. Milo and Imelda are still fast asleep as we whisper.

“Don’t wake them up yet.” Hank pulls me closer to him, and I kneel beside the bed. “I just want a moment to tell you how much I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I say the words without thinking twice. I kiss the top of the mask. “You’d better live through this, because I want to get to tell you that in front of everyone.”

He pauses. “Really?”

“Really.”

Hank chokes out a laugh. “If only I’d known all it took was almost dying.”

My lips screw up. “You’re not out of the woods yet.”

“I know.” He coughs, and the sound wakes up his mother and Milo. I step aside as Milo lunges for the bed.

“Dad! You’re awake!”

Hank grins and rubs one of Milo’s nubby horns. “I am. Good to see you, bud.”

I watch the three of them together, hoping that this isn’t the last time.

Hank

I drift in and out of consciousness. My chest aches, my throat is raw, and my nose feels like it’s full of dust. Thanks to the drugs, I can’t feel my leg. They say it will heal, but it’ll be six months at minimum before I’m back on my feet again.

Which means no work, and puts even more stress on Phoebe and my mother.

But I’m glad I’m alive, and I’ll hold onto that as long as I can. The doctors say I’m getting just enough oxygen to survive, but it’s taxing my body. They’re doing everything they can to keep me from having heart failure.

While I’m awake, I hold Phoebe’s hand every moment possible. Milo adds his own hand to the pile, like we’re doing a squad break, and Phoebe giggles as she brings him into her lap.

“You want to hold hands with us?”

He scratches his head. “Yeah. I like it when you hold hands.” He leans back to rest his head on Phoebe’s chest. “Do you guys like each other?”

Phoebe inhales sharply, but I have to smile.

“We do. At least, I like Phoebe.”

Her face is already turning pink. “And I like your dad. A lot.”

Milo’s face is radiant at these words. “Wow. Cool. Darla will be happy when I tell her.”

My mother and Phoebe take turns returning home and helping out Sandra. Sandra even makes the trip to the hospital to say hello and bring me some “adult-sized” slippers she knitted. I know it’s so that I can visit her house.

It feels as if we’ve built a little family of our own.

I ask about the girl from the apartment above the restaurant, and I’m told she inhaled a lot of smoke, too. But she’s doing better than I am and should be released soon. She was barely bruised in the incident, and her family sends me flowers and a balloon with a note that makes me tear up.

Soon, I’m spending more time awake than I am asleep. My breathing grows less shallow and strained, and they have to pump me full of oxygen less and less often. Hope blooms in Phoebe’s blue eyes, and it helps to know I’m fighting for a life with her.

When the doctor comes back the following day, Phoebe asleep in the chair, he wears a slight smile.

“I think you’re in the clear, Mr. Pittsfield,” he says, looking over his chart. “There will be some long-term damage, but over time it’ll improve as your body heals.”

I’m buoyant. Utterly over the moon.

All it takes is whispering Phoebe’s name and she wakes up. The doctor leaves us alone together as I give her the news, and she cries happy tears on my chest.

I’m free to go home under the condition that I return for routine checkups and testing. It looks like I made it through the worst of it, though the leg is still just as broken.

I’m given a cast and crutches, which are a nightmare to wield.

Phoebe and my mother help me out to the car, and I’m sure this will just be the first of many times.

It’ll be months before the bone weaves itself back together and I can walk properly again, and there will always be a crack through my left hoof.

Then, at last, I’m home again. Unfortunately, going up and down the stairs is too much work, so I take up residence on a cot downstairs.

At night when the light is off, Phoebe sneaks down the steps, and I welcome her onto the cot with me.

We can still make love as long as she’s on top, so she’s frequently in my lap, bringing my cock inside her at her own speed and angle.

It’s harder than ever not to go off early, with no control like this, but I get good at biting my lip and holding it back.

It’s the worst time to be laid up. Everything takes five times as long with my busted leg, and while Phoebe’s belly rounds, I can barely help out around the house.

Usually the best I can do is entertain Milo, which he loves.

It’s wonderful to get so much time at home with my kid, but I also ache to be helpful, to be useful.

Luckily, I have the most fantastic family in the meantime. Sandra comes over whenever she can get out of bed for dinner, and sometimes we all pile into her small house instead. As the good weather fades, we take as much time as we can to barbecue in the front yard.

“I can’t get over this book I just read,” Sandra says from her camp chair. It’s the special kind with a built-in footstool. “Just blew my mind.”

My mother turns away from the grill top. “Oh, are you a bookworm?”

Sandra glows. “Yeah. It was kind of my hideaway when we were kids. I would just bury myself in a book when I felt sad or lonely.”

They fall into a steady conversation about books while Milo drives his Big Wheel up and down the sidewalk. Phoebe stands next to me, and I don’t think she even realizes she’s had a hand cupping her stomach.

I hop over on my crutches and take over turning the hot dogs now that Mom has gotten caught up in a conversation and forgotten about them.

Everything feels perfect, but there’s still one thing we need to do. We put it off after my fall, but now Phoebe’s starting to show. We have to come clean with Milo.

After dinner one night, we all sit down in the living room while Milo arranges miniature horse fences around where Darla is sleeping on the floor. I clear my throat to get my little bull calf’s attention.

“Hey, Milo. Remember a while ago when I told you that you have a mother?”

Milo cocks his head. “Yeah. I know who it is, though.”

We all stare at him.

“Wait, what?” I adjust my leg in its cast so I can sit forward on the couch. “You do?”

“It’s Phoebe, right?” Milo continues placing the fences until the circle is closed around the sleeping cat.

Phoebe and I gape at each other. Silence fills the room until my mother says, “Yes, it’s Phoebe.”

Milo shrugs as he plants a plastic horse figurine inside the corral with Darla. “Thought so.” He finally sits back and glances up at Phoebe. “Do you work for the baby factory? Are you bringing the other baby here, too?”

Phoebe covers her mouth, and I can’t tell if she’s horrified, laughing, or both. Eventually, though, her shoulders sag forward and she says, “Yep. That’s me. Except I don’t work for the baby factory, Milo.” She pats her belly. “I am the baby factory.”

His eyes get huge and wide. “What?!”

“Yep. Your dad’s new baby is growing right here.”

I flinch at the way she says it, but I know that for now, it’s true. The only reason I haven’t bought her a ring yet is that money’s tight while I’m out on disability—and I want to wait to give it to her until I can properly kneel.

“Wow.” Milo gets up and walks over to her. “It’s in there?”

“You want to touch?” she asks.

Milo’s little mouth falls open, exposing all his blunt teeth. “Really?”

“Sure.” She takes his hand and presses his palm to her belly.

Milo is aghast. “The new baby is in there?”

“Yep. It’ll be a long time before it’s a proper baby, though. Right now, it’s just a bunch of cells figuring things out.”

I laugh at this description. I love her more and more every day.

“Is this how you guys made me, too?” Milo asks, glancing over his shoulder at me while his hand remains on Phoebe’s stomach.

“Yup. Phoebe grew you there, too, just like she’s doing now.”

“Wow. Cool.”

When Milo’s curiosity is satisfied, he goes back to playing with his horses, and the rest of us let out a collective sigh of relief.

That went much, much better than I could have hoped. Now there’s just the matter of getting better, and then I can seal the deal.