Page 6

FIVE

SHOTGUN

Hand to God, I don’t know how the hell Irish put up with her. The woman is infuriating. She’d rather fucking have someone deliver her a gallon of milk, then ask anyone for help. Forget me—would it have fucking killed her to open her front door and ask Fuckface to go to the supermarket? She didn’t have trouble sending him to Target when she thought I bought Legend something and forgot about Raiden.

I slam the loaf of bread on the conveyer belt a little too hard, earning me a look from the cashier.

“Sorry,” I mumble as I continue to unload the cart.

I don’t even know if she needs these things. Nor do I know if the kids are allowed to eat half the snacks I picked out—all of which are probably loaded with sugar and those dyes everyone swears are poison, but when I called Fuckface to check in and he told me that all was good, except for the fact she had Instacarted a gallon of milk, I lost my fucking shit.

I grabbed the keys to the cage, and now here I am, grocery shopping at ten o’clock at night like I have a family of ten to feed.

“That’ll be three hundred and sixty-three dollars.”

I stare at her for a beat. What the fuck did I buy?

Shaking my head, I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and hand her my credit card. My gaze falls to the groceries. Am I supposed to bag them myself?

I’m about to ask her just that when my cell phone rings. Biting back a curse, I retrieve it from my kutte. Without bothering to glance at the screen, I accept the call and lift the phone to my ear, propping it up with my shoulder as I start throwing all the groceries back in the wagon. I guess bags are a luxury Shoprite doesn’t offer anymore.

“Hello?”

“Uncle Shotty?”

Instantly my body goes still, and I feel all the blood drain from my face. There is no good reason for Legend to be calling me at this hour, and I can hear the fear in his voice.

“Legend, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Mom,” he mumbles, his voice quaking. “I heard her scream. It sounded like she was in pain. I know I’m supposed to be the man of the house now, but her bedroom door is shut and I’m to afraid to go inside. I knocked and she didn’t answer.”

The poor kid is rambling. Without asking the cashier to give my credit card back, I abandon the groceries and sprint for the door. She calls out for me, but I ignore her.

Fuck the card.

Fuck the groceries.

Fuck everything.

“Okay, listen to me, I want you to hang up the phone and go downstairs. I’m going to call Fuckface and you’re going to open the door for him. Then you’re going to go in your room until I get there. Can you do that for me?”

I hear the door creak in the background. “I’m scared,” he says. “What if she’s hurt? What if she’s dead?”

I close my eyes, hitting the locks on the cage. “She’s going to be fine.”

She has to be.

“I’m going to hang up now, but I’ll call you right back, okay?”

“Okay, I’m going down the stairs.”

“That’s a good boy. And Legend?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m on my way.”

I defied the speed limit, and blew every light, all while staying on the phone with Legend. After he let Fuckface in the house, he went in his room just like I instructed, but ten seconds later, Fuckface got on the phone, and because the guy doesn’t know how to act around kids, he blurted everything out for Legend to hear.

“It’s bad, man. She’s bleeding everywhere.”

Legend immediately became hysterical. I arrived at the house five minutes later and took my full first breath when I spotted the ambulance already in the driveway. Thankfully, Fuckface had enough sense to call 9-1-1.

As much as I wanted to ease Legend’s fears, I needed to see Jade for myself. All I knew was that she was bleeding. I didn’t know why or where she was bleeding from. I didn’t know if had anything to do with the baby.

I charged straight for her and Irish’s bedroom, and when I caught sight of them lifting her onto the stretcher, I felt all the air leave my lungs. Fuckface wasn’t exaggerating about the blood. The lush beige carpet looked like it had been a victim of a massacre, and the blood trailed from the spot where they were lifting her to the bathroom. The robe she was wearing, did a piss poor job of covering, and I noticed the blood only appeared to be dripping down her legs.

“How far along is she?” One of the paramedics shouted.

It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. “I don’t know… she isn’t due for at least another month, maybe more.” My gaze found her pale face. “Is she going to be okay?”

“We have to get her to the hospital. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

I didn’t need them to tell me that. I needed them to answer my fucking question. They wheeled her out of the bedroom, and I followed along. Then I remembered the kids were with Fuckface. I knew they needed me, but Jade needed me too. I was torn.

In the end, I loaded the boys into Jade’s Escalade and ordered Fuckface to follow me. On the way to the hospital, I called Biggie and told him what was going on. He and the rest of the club showed up a little while after, and we all sat in the waiting room, trying to occupy the kids, and assure them that their mom was going to be okay.

Whether any of us believed it, I’m not sure.

It’s been well over an hour since they brought Jade in, and the only thing I’ve learned is that Jade never changed her emergency contact information, making getting an update on her condition nearly impossible, and the only reason I know that is because Biggie tried sweet talking the lady at the reception desk.

I turn to Guido. “Try Bella again.”

I don’t know how much pull she has as a nurse, but at this point, she’s our only hope.

“Bro, I don’t know why you just don’t tell them you’re Irish. It’s not like they’re going to ask you for your fucking driver’s license,” he says as he pokes at the screen on his phone, putting the call on speaker. Bella’s voicemail message sounds. “She doesn’t keep the phone on when she’s working. You want me to call over to Lipstick and Lace and have Trigger send over some of the girls?”

“I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but even I can see he’s not in the mood to get a lap dance. I think we save the strippers for another night, or at the very least until we have an update on Jade,” Skid says.

“I wasn’t calling them so Shotgun could catch a blowjob in the on-call room, dick,” Guido volleys. His gaze darts back to me. “I figured they could take the kids back to the clubhouse. We don’t know how long we’re going to be here, and I think Legend is scared shitless. The little man needs a reprieve.”

I glance over at Legend who hasn’t left his brother’s side. He keeps staring at the doors the paramedics led his mother through. Guido isn’t wrong about him needing a break, but Jade would fucking kill us all if we left her kids in the care of a couple of strippers. That I’m sure of.

Suddenly the doors open, and I see Legend pop up out of his chair as two doctors approach us.

“Are one of your Mr. Callahan?”

“He is!” Legend blurts, pointing his finger at me.

“Look at that,” Guido mutters, elbowing me. “The kid has more balls than you.”

“Mr. Callahan, your wife suffered a placenta abruption. We had to perform an emergency c-section. She lost a lot of blood, so a transfusion was necessary. She’s lucky you got to her as quickly as you did, because things could’ve been a lot worse. She’s still sedated, and in recovery right now. Once she wakes, you’ll be able to see her.”

“And the baby?” I ask hoarsely.

“The baby is in the NICU. He appears to be having some difficulty breathing, but he’s in the best hands. I can have a nurse take you to see him, if you’d like.”

Before I can think better of it, or convince myself it’s not my place, I nod. I don’t think Irish nor Jade would want their premature son to be alone.

I feel a hand clamp down on my shoulder, and when I turn my head, I find Biggie standing there, nodding his head. “Go, I’ll take the boys to the cafeteria and get them some snacks. No strippers, I promise.”

My gaze darts back to Legend. “You good with me going to check on your brother?”

He nods. “Mom’s going to be okay, right?”

I glance back at the doctor, hopeful he’ll be able to give the boy some peace of mind.

“Your mom has a long road to recovery and will have to take it easy for the next few weeks, but I think she’ll be just fine.”

He takes a deep breath, then looks back at me. “You did good, Legend. You knew your mom needed help, and you got it for her. You saved her life and your little brother’s too.”

I visited Legend and Raiden shortly after they were both born, so babies don’t particularly scare me. I don’t even mind holding them, but as I step foot inside the NICU and see Jade’s baby for the first time, I hesitate. He’s smaller than his brothers, not by a lot, but significantly, and there are a bunch of tiny wires taped to his chest. There’s also an oxygen tube hooked up to his nose and something that looks like a soft cast is wrapped around his left arm.

“Would you like to hold him?” The nurse questions, forcing me to tear my gaze away from the baby to stare at her.

“Can I?”

“Of course. Skin to skin contact in preemies has many benefits for preemies. It can regulate a baby’s heart rate, breathing, and blood sugar levels. It also helps reduce stress, and this little guy seems to have had his fair share of that tonight.”

Skin to skin contact—what the hell is she talking about?

“You can take off your scrub shirt, and sit right there in that chair, I’ll get a blanket, and the baby.”

“You want me to take off my shirt?”

“I’m sorry, I just assumed you had done that with your other children. I read Mrs. Callahan’s chart.”

I almost forgot the only reason I’m here is because I came in under the false pretense that I’m Irish.

“It’s fine… it’s just he’s smaller than the others, and the wires—what if they get tangled or I accidently disconnect something? I don’t want to hurt him.”

She smiles softly at me. “I think you’ll be just fine. I’ll be close by.”

I don’t know why she has so much faith in me. Usually people look at me and think the worst. But rather than question it, I lean into it, and soon I find myself holding Jade’s son against my chest.

“Hey, there little guy,” I whisper, gently smoothing my tattooed fingers over the peach fuzz that coats his little head. It boggles my mind that a little over an hour ago he was inside Jade, and now he’s tucked safely in my arms.

I remember the first time I met Legend, Jade joked about how she did all the work, only for the baby to come out looking exactly like Irish. That’s not the case with this baby.

He's a spitting image of his mama.

From the shape of his nose to the shape of his lips.

But most of all, I think he has her fighting spirit.

“You gave us all a scare tonight,” I say as my gaze latches onto his little hand that lays flat against the only spot on my chest that doesn’t have any ink. I wish I had a marker. I’d trace his little hand, and tattoo it to that very spot, making sure I added his birthday to the center of it like I did with the tributes I have on my skin, honoring his brothers.

“He looks perfectly content,” the nurse comments. “And his stats are good. You’re doing great, dad.”

Dad.

The single word entices shame, reminding me I’m just a stand in. A brother who made a promise. But as I sit here holding Irish’s son I decide to ask for forgiveness later. I’m done sitting in the shadows. Jade needs help whether she likes it or not, and I’m done waiting for her to give me permission to step in.

I trace my fingers down the baby’s back, bending my head to touch my lips to the top of his head. “I hope you’re comfortable because you guys are stuck with me.”