Page 7

SIX

JADE

My heart starts to race the second I open my eyes and stare up at the fluorescent lights. The last thing I recall is being in the shower, clutching my stomach, and seeing all the blood drip down my legs.

So much blood.

Too much.

I struggle to push the sheet off me, my hands immediately falling to my stomach. It looks just as it did before, but I can tell my baby is no longer inside of me. I can feel it.

“Easy.”

My gaze snaps in the direction of the gruff voice, and my eyes land on Shotgun. He sits in the corner of the hospital room, his hands braced on top of his spread thighs, exhaustion clouting his face. I don’t know why he’s here or how he found out I was in the hospital. I don’t even know how I got here. A million questions swirl around my muddled head, but the most important one manages to leave my lips.

“Where’s my baby? Please tell me my baby is okay.”

“He’s perfect,” he says, hoarsely. Pushing out of the chair, he comes to stand at my side. “He’s in the NICU?—”

“The NICU?” I cry, tears immediately filling my eyes. “But you said he’s perfect.”

“He’s having some trouble breathing on his own, but they’re doing everything they can to help him. He’s going to be okay, Jade. He just needed a little more time inside of you, but he’ll catch up. Everything else is good. Ten fingers, ten toes. A strong heart.”

He extends his hand, his thumb brushing across my cheek, wiping away my tears. I close my eyes briefly, allowing myself a moment to revel in the comfort of his touch.

“He looks like you,” he rasps.

My eyes spring open and I stare at him for a beat, my mind reeling. I don’t ask him how he knows what my baby looks like. I don’t ask how he knows he’s having trouble breathing or why he’s even allowed to be in my room. We’ll get to all of that eventually. What I need to know now, is how he knew to come for me? I’m assuming Fuckface had something to do with it.

“How did you know I needed you?”

“Legend called me. He heard you scream but was too afraid to check on you himself.”

That breaks my heart, and I feel more tears slide down my cheeks. He must’ve been so scared. My poor boy. “Where is he now?”

“Biggie took him and Raiden back to the clubhouse. They’re good, Jade. They’re relieved their mom is okay and excited to meet their brother.”

Relief washes over me, and I drop my head back against the pillow. I want to see my baby. I want to hold him, and make sure he’s okay, but my eyelids feel too heavy. My body too weak. My mind entirely too loud.

“I’m tired,” I whisper.

“Then close your eyes and sleep. I’ll be right here.”

“No,” I whisper. “Go stay with Killian. I don’t want him to be alone.”

“Killian,” Shotgun murmurs.

“That’s his name. Killian Duke Callahan. It means little warrior.”

He reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together. “It’s perfect.”

Twelve hours later, I was finally able to meet my son. They couldn’t bring him to me, so I had to get clearance from my doctor before going to the NICU—something I wasn’t familiar with.

With my other pregnancies, I delivered vaginally, but due to the placenta abruption, I needed a c-section. And let me just say that the people who think having a cesarean is taking the easy way out of birth, are fools. When I delivered naturally, I was up and about an hour after I gave birth. I remember placing my breakfast order as I swayed on my feet, rocking Legend back and forth in my arms.

This was nothing like that.

The recovery was so much worse. Getting out of bed for the first time was excruciating. It felt like someone had taken a hot brand to my stomach. I couldn’t stand without someone’s assistance, and I had a pain in my shoulder that was so intense I thought I was having a heart attack. Come to learn, it was only gas.

Can you imagine? Who the fuck gets gas pains in their shoulder?

The mothers that are flayed open, that’s who. It’s a side effect from the anesthesia and fairly common from what I understand.

I took three steps before I dropped my ass into the wheelchair, and man, that hurt almost as much as getting up. But I was on a mission to see my baby. Shotgun wheeled me to the NICU, and that’s when I learned he let everyone believe he was my husband and Killian’s father.

“Why would you let them think that?”

“No one was giving me any information.” He leaned down, pressing his lips close to my ear. “That’s him over there. He’s a little jaundice so he’s got to stay under those lights.”

My eyes moved to where he was looking, and I saw him.

My little warrior.

He was smaller than his brothers, and he had paper sunglasses taped over his eyes, and a bunch of wires attached to his little body. Shotgun wheeled me over to where he was, and for a moment, all I did was stare at him. Then I leaned forward, ignoring the burning sensation in my abdomen as I outstretched my hand and touched him for the first time.

“Dad’s been doing a good job, but I think this boy is ready to have his Mommy hold him,” the nurse said. I didn’t correct her. In fact, the whole comment about Shotgun being his dad completely flew over my head. I was too consumed by my need to feel him… to kiss him and nurture him. Nothing else mattered.

“Yes, please,” I whispered.

Shotgun locked the wheelchair and stepped aside, giving the nurse room to maneuver Killian into my arms. When I was pregnant with Raiden, I wondered how it would be possible for me to love him as much as I loved his brother. I quickly learned when he was born that the heart grows in an instant, and the moment Killian was nestled against my chest, it happened again. My heart grew to the point that I thought it might explode. And for the first time in three weeks, I didn’t feel so empty.

I don’t know how long I held him, but after a while I noticed my hospital gown was wet. My milk was starting to come in. Unsure if he’d be able to feed from me while being hooked up to all the equipment, I turned to the nurse for guidance. She said I could try and see if he’d latch but warned me that I shouldn’t get discouraged if he didn’t.

I was aware that Shotgun was close by, but I didn’t care. At least not in that moment. I just wanted to feel the connection with my son.

With the nurse’s help, I pulled my breast out from my gown, and guided Killian to my nipple. He didn’t latch or make any attempt to, and despite the nurse’s warning, I became emotional. In turn, Killian started to fuss. Not wanting to cause him any distress, I handed him back to the nurse and wiped away my tears.

That’s when Shotgun came back to stand behind me.

“Do you need a break?” he asked quietly.

As much as I didn’t want to leave my baby, I nodded, and asked the nurse if she could arrange for me to see a lactation consultant. If Killian wouldn’t latch, I’d have to resort to pumping, and because my hormones were in disarray, that made me irrationally angry.

By the time Shotgun brought me back to my room, and helped me get back into bed, I was itching for a fight.

A half hour has passed, and he still hasn’t taken the bait. The man clearly has the patience of a saint.

“Biggie texted me. He wants to know if you’re feeling up to having the kids visit.”

“Of course I want to see my kids,” I retort, but as soon as the words leave my lips, I realize the last time Legend saw me, I was in bad condition.

I may be conscious and not lying in my own blood, but I definitely look rough. I need to make myself presentable for them. Take a shower and brush my hair. Be dressed in something that doesn’t reveal my entire backside.

The problem with that is, I didn’t anticipate going into premature labor, so I never packed a bag for the hospital.

“What’s that look for?” Shotgun questions, pocketing his phone.

“I don’t want them to see me like this. My hair is a mess, and I’m leaking all over the place.”

That was probably too much information, but I can’t take it back now. To Shotgun’s credit, his eyes never waver from my face.

“Jade, they don’t care what you look like. They just want to see that you’re alive and well.”

I don’t know when he became the voice of reason, or how it’s possible for him to know exactly what I need to hear, but he’s talented in that regard. It’d be endearing if it wasn’t so damn infuriating.

Worrying my lower lip between my teeth, I concede the pajamas aren’t a necessity. “I’d still like to shower before they get here.”

He nods. “You want me to swing by the house and grab you some clothes?”

The immediate response should be yes, but then he’d have to leave, and I don’t know that I want him too.

God, I’m a fucking mess.

“My maternity pajamas are in the top dresser drawer. I’m going to need my nursing bras, and regular underwear too. I don’t know if they’re in the same drawer. If not, they might be in a bag in the closet.”

His jaw goes slack for a split second, and I watch his throat bob as he swallows.

“Anything else?”

“You can grab whatever toiletries that are in the master bathroom too, and my brush is somewhere on the vanity. Oh, and I’m going to need my toothbrush. It’s the black one.”

Shotgun slaps his hands against his thighs before he pushes out of the chair.

“Toiletries, brush, and toothbrush. Got it.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “What about the boys? Can I just take anything from their closets?”

“Yes, but if you can find the Big Brother shirts I bought, that would be great. Oh, and I did start to put some things in my diaper bag.” I don’t know that I’ll be able to dress Killian while he’s in the NICU, but there’s the blanket I used when all the boys were born that I could probably place in the incubator with him. “It’s in the nursery, on top of the glider.”

“The glider?”

“It’s like a rocking chair.”

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to find all this shit, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Do you want me to bring you anything to eat?”

I shake my head. That would only delay him longer.

“No, that’s enough.”

“Mommy!” Raiden cheers as he runs past Biggie who holds the door open with one hand, and a bouquet of flowers in the other. He bends down, handing the flowers to Legend, who takes them but makes no move to fully enter the hospital room.

“Easy, buddy,” Shotgun says, as he catches him by the waist and throws him over his shoulder, effectively halting him from body slamming himself on top of the bed. “Mommy’s belly is still sore from where they took Killian out.” He tickles his sides, causing a fleet of giggles to burst free. The sound so sweet. “How’s it feel to be a big brother?”

My gaze cuts back to where Legend stands. “I’m so happy to see you boys.” I hold out my hand, silently encouraging him to come closer. “I missed you both so much.”

Shotgun gently deposits Raiden on the foot of my bed before walking over to Legend.

“She’s okay, Legend. I promise.” He holds up his pinky, and I watch as my son slowly lifts his and winds it around Shotgun’s. Then his eyes come to mine, and he drops his hand to his side. I wink at him, and a tear falls from the corner of my eye. He comes to the side of the bed and pushes the flowers toward me.

“We got these for you.”

Thumbing away the stray tear, I smile widely. “They’re beautiful, but you know what I could really use right now?” He sets the flowers on the rolling table next to my bed before leaning over the railing to press a kiss to my cheek. I wrap my arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I’m so sorry I scared you, but I’m proud of you for calling Uncle Shotty for help. That was brave, and your dad would be so proud too.”

“Me too!” Raiden says. “You proud of me too!”

I laugh. The sound foreign to my own ears. “Yes, of course. Come here and give me some sugar. Just be gentle, okay? Uncle Shotty was right when he said Mommy’s belly is still healing.”

“When are you able to come home?” Legend asks as he settles into my side, giving his brother room to hug me.

“I’m not sure,” I tell him honestly, but as I say those words another reality hits me—one I haven’t allowed myself to entertain. There is a strong possibility I will be discharged without Killian. I don’t know how I’m going to manage that.

“Can we see the baby?” Raiden asks.

Still worrying about how I’m going to take care of two kids at home and a preemie in the hospital, I don’t answer right away.

“Because your brother couldn’t wait to meet you and came a little early, he needs a little T.L.C. so they have him in a special unit in the hospital, but when he’s strong enough you’ll be able to see him. He’s already the coolest baby in the hospital, rocking a pair of shades like it’s nobody’s business,” Shotgun tells him. “I took a picture.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “Is it okay if I show them?”

I nod and he moves closer, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve his phone. When he finds the picture, he shows it to the boys.

“He really has sunglasses,” Raiden exclaims. “I want a pair of sunglasses.”

“You can have mine, little man,” Biggie says. Kicking off the wall he’s leaning on, he pulls the glasses out from the neckline of his shirt and props them on his nose. They’re way too big for his little face, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Why does he have so many wires connected to him?”

“They’re just monitoring him to make sure he continues to do well,” I say, finally finding my voice. I smooth a lock of his hair away from his forehead. “He’s already doing a lot better than when he was first born.”

“Hey, why don’t you guys get a little closer to your mom so I can take a picture of the three of you,” Shotgun suggests. My eyes find his and he points to the shirts the boys are wearing. “Isn’t that why you sent me on a wild goose chase for those t-shirts?”

“Let’s try this again, baby,” I murmur as I guide Killian to my breast. He nuzzles close but shows no feeding cues. The nurse suggests trying to get him to latch onto my other nipple, but that doesn’t work either.

“It could be a number of things that’s preventing him from latching. We can try again in a couple of hours. In the meantime, I think you should pump, and we can try bottle feeding.”

I furiously wipe at my cheeks. “I don’t have a pump.”

I’m the world’s most unprepared mother.

“Mrs. Callahan we have everything you need here. Please don’t get upset. Fed is best no matter how it’s done.”

I know that, but my brain isn’t working right. My world imploded three weeks ago, and I think it’s finally fully hitting me. “Can you take him?”

“Of course,” she says. “I’ll get you a pump so that you can start pumping in the privacy of your own room. When you’re done, we can try bottle feeding.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“We have other options.”

I snuggle him closer, pressing my lips to the top of his head before I hand him back to the nurse. Then I turn back to Shotgun. “Can you take me back to my room?”

Without saying a word he does just that, and once we’re inside, he moves to help me back to bed. I try to push him away, but when I straighten up, the pain in my abdomen returns. So reluctantly, I lean on him, and when he props the pillow under my head, I murmur my thanks. He’s been patient, and kind. A lifesaver really, but I think I need a break. Maybe if I have myself a good cry then I’ll snap out of whatever funk this is.

However, before I can properly express that, Shotgun speaks up.

“Jade, we need to talk.”

“I’m not really in the mood to talk, Shotgun.”

“I understand that, so I’ll make it quick before I get out of your hair for a little while.”

Sighing, I meet his gaze. “What is it?”

“I ran into your doctor when I walked Biggie and the boys out. He’s discharging you tomorrow morning.”

I don’t know what I did wrong to have so many things go against me, but man, I sure as hell must’ve pissed someone off.

“The last I spoke with the pediatrician in the NICU, he indicated that Killian would have to stay longer,” he continues. “His breathing is starting to improve, but now with the jaundice situation, that set him back a little.”

“Despite how much I’m failing, this isn’t my first rodeo, Shotgun. I didn’t think they’d discharge him with all the wires connected to him, and with him not eating, that’s going to only cause more issues.”

The reality is it could be weeks before he comes home.

“Okay, so we need a plan. You can’t be in two places at once. I respect that you don’t want to stay at the clubhouse, but my apartment isn’t equipped for kids.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“The side apartment you and Irish planned to have Irene move into…it’s still vacant, yeah?”

My brows pinch together as I try to figure out where he’s going with this.

“Yes, we never finished the work renovating it.”

“It got working plumbing?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I’m suggesting that I crash there until you get on your feet.”

I scoff. “Absolutely not.”

I don’t know if he didn’t hear my response or if he’s choosing to blatantly ignore me, but he continues to ramble on like as though I didn’t say a fucking word.

“I’ll help get the kids off to school in the mornings, and you can come spend time with Killian. I don’t know how feedings and all that shit works, but I think babies eat every couple of hours and depending how you decide to do that—whether by breast or bottle—you’re going to need to be here.”

He isn’t wrong about that. If it turns out that I do have to bottle feed, I’ll likely have to pump and drop off my milk for the nurses to feed him when I’m not able to. How he’s aware of any of this is beyond me, though.

“How do you even know that?”

An exasperated breath leaves his lips, and he scratches at the scruff lining his jaw. “When I was with the baby, I saw another NICU mom come and drop off her milk.”

“How observant of you.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jade. Why is it so hard for you to accept my help?” He combs his fingers roughly through his hair, tugging at the ends. My eyes widen at his tone, but I remain quiet. I guess I finally poked hard enough. He releases his hair, dropping his hands to his sides, and balls his fists. “I’m going for a walk. Try to be fucking reasonable when I get back.”

Shotgun returned a half hour later with a turkey sandwich from the cafeteria, and a bottle of orange juice. He angrily tossed them on the table next to my bed.

“Eat,” he said gruffly before he took a seat in the corner of the room. He hasn’t said a word since, and neither have I. I did eat the sandwich, though. Not because he ordered me to, but because I was starving. I even drank the orange juice, and I hate orange juice.

A knock sounds on the door, and we both lift our heads as it opens.

“Good afternoon, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Shotgun mutters, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Are you one of the lactation specialists?”

“No, I’m Lisa Crowl. I’m one of the social workers here at the hospital. I was told you wanted to make some changes to your healthcare proxy.” She taps her fingers against the folder she’s holding. “Is now a good time?”

I stare at her blankly. “I think you may be confusing me with someone else.”

“You’re Mrs. Callahan, are you not?”

“I am but?—”

Shotgun cuts me off. “Thank you. You can leave the papers on the table. If we have any questions, we’ll be sure to reach out.”

Ms. Crowl’s gaze cuts to him, and she smiles. “Very well. My card is stapled to the inside of the folder.” Her gaze darts to me. “Congratulations on the new edition.”

I don’t offer her my thanks, I’m too busy trying to keep myself from exploding. Where does Shotgun get off making requests on my behalf? She drops the folder on the rolling table next to my bed before she sees herself out. As soon as the door closes behind her, I turn my attention back to Shotgun.

“What the hell is that about?”

“Irish is still your emergency contact.”

My eyes widen. “He’s my husband.”

His eyes soften slightly, and he takes a step forward.

“He’s dead, Jade.”

I don’t need a reminder. I wake up every morning, and it’s the first thought in my head. And I really don’t need him, of all people, to be the one who points it out to me.

“I’m sorry, do you think I don’t know that?” I sneer, clenching my teeth. “I’m very well aware my husband is dead, despite you people thinking you had the right to withhold his body from me.”

“He can’t make decisions on your behalf.”

It’s very obvious where he’s going with this, and while I know he means well, I can’t get past the anger I feel. I can’t push it aside or pretend it doesn’t exist. I also don’t know what to do with it, so I project it onto him, because deep down, I know he’ll take it. He’ll take everything I give him, and after he’s done taking it, he’ll buy me a sandwich.

“First you let everyone here believe you’re Irish, then you tell me you’re moving into my house, and now you want me to erase his name from my medical records and what… put yours instead? You got his patch, might as well take the house, wife, and kids too, right?”

He grits his teeth, his jaw popping slightly as he growls, “I explained this already. I didn’t have a choice. You were in bad shape, and no one was giving me any information on you or Killian. It wasn’t right, but I had to do it, and if given the chance, I’d fucking do it again.”

“Of course you would,” I snap. He uncrosses his arms, bracing his hands against the side railing of my hospital bed.

“You could’ve died, Jade. You and Killian could’ve needed extreme measures to survive. If decisions needed to be made, I wouldn’t have been able to make them. Fuck, Jade, the boys—Legend and Raiden—they could’ve been taken by the state.”

Logically, I know everything he’s saying is true. I just don’t want to accept it. I don’t want to accept any of this as my new reality. I think if I keep putting things off, they’ll just go away. Or maybe I’m still hanging onto hope that Irish will come back. That I’ll wake and this will all have been one big nightmare.

“You, Irish, and me, we learned early on that life ain’t all that different from riding. There are lots of bends in the road, and if you don’t lean into those curves, Jade, you’ll get knocked on your ass. I ain’t asking you to forgive me, or the club for what happened, nor am I asking you to let go of your pain. You got every right to feel what you’re feeling, and no one can take that from you. But like it or not, we’re family. You, me, the boys, and the club.”

A tear rolls down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away.

“Oh, please, don’t give me that bullshit. You call me family, but for the last twelve years you’ve barely acknowledged me. Ever since me and Irish got married, maybe even before that.”

Diverting his eyes away from me, he flexes his around the railing. “That’s not true.”

I scoff. “I’m sure you’re good at a lot of things, Shotgun, but lying isn’t one of them. I know you love my boys, and I’m grateful for that.” I have difficulty showing it, but I am. They need a man in their life, and Legend has already decided it’s going to be him. I keep telling myself I won’t take that away from him, but it’s hard. I have too much resentment. “I won’t be a charity a project of yours. You got guilt for what happened to Irish, that’s on you. But I know he wouldn’t want you to hold onto that. So, as his widow, I’m giving you a pass. You can see the kids—you don’t even need to call ahead. But I need to do this on my own.”

“I don’t want a fucking pass, Jade. I want you to stop fighting me. I gave you space, went against my gut…against my fucking word … and it blew up in both our faces. Are you even listening to a word I say? You could’ve fucking died . The baby too. Then what? How do I explain that to your kids? How do I fucking live knowing I stood back and did nothing while both their parents died?”

He slaps his hand on the papers the social worker dropped on the rolling table, and I purse my lips. I don’t think can recall a time when I’ve ever seen him this angry.

Definitely not toward me.

“Sign the fucking papers. And when you get released from the hospital, you’re going up to the kids’ schools, and putting me down as an emergency contact for them. I already called the club’s lawyer. He doesn’t do wills, but he referred me to someone who does. There needs to be a plan in place for the boys God forbid something happens to you. I won’t move into the apartment, but you’re going to accept my help. Period. End of story.”