Page 177 of Too Far

Josephine

Four Years Later

LeaningintoKendrick’sside,I scan the status board again.

Patient 0623 is in pre-op

Patient 0622 is in surgery

I close my eyes and run through the facts: These are routine procedures. We’re at one of the best children’s hospitals in the country. Although they may not understand our dynamic, the surgeon and operating team are very much aware of the four foreboding men in the waiting room, chomping at the bit for an update on their little girls.

“You’re okay, Mama.” K presses his lips to the crown of my head and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “They’re going to be fine. Better than fine. Jade got tubes when she was three, and her ear infections practically disappeared overnight.”

“They’re only twenty-three months old,” I argue.

“You think either of our baby girls knows how old they are when they channel their mama’s sass or their dad’s stubbornness?”

I smile, and the pressure eases in my chest a fraction, because he’s right.

“They’re fighters. They’ll pull through this and be so much healthier for it. I promise.”

“I’m making two pictures for my two sisters,” Archer announces, scribbling in one of the coloring books we brought to keep him occupied. He spent the first several minutes of our time out here cycling from one parent to the next, asking us each to hold him or snuggle him. He’s such a love muffin, but he rarely has the undivided attention of all of us like this. He didn’t know what to do with himself without the girls in the mix.

“Those look great, buddy,” Nicky praises. “Your sisters are going to love them.”

I check the status board again and find it unchanged. I flit my eyes back to Archie. His dark brown hair and rosy cherub cheeks make him look just like his papa. I smile as I watch him color and snack on the Goldish crackers we brought for him. He may only be four, but his appetite is unmatched. As long as he’s fed, he’s the happiest little boy.

Resigned to the fact that my babies are all okay, I bury my face in the crook of Kendrick’s arm and inhale, savoring the smell of vanilla, musk, care, and home. “I thought the whole point of procreating with the great Decker Crusade was for his superior genes,” I jibe.

Kendrick silently chuckles, his chest shaking beneath my cheek.

“Technically speaking, I have the superior genes.” Kylian snaps his laptop closed and glances up at the status board. “Decker caught everything as a kid. He even got chicken pox in second grade, despite being vaccinated.”

Cap glares from the row of plastic seats across from us, but he doesn’t bother arguing. He works his jaw back and forth, his onyx eyes searching the status board every few seconds.

Kendrick kisses my head and nudges me, but I’m already rising to my feet.

With an encouraging smile, I plop myself right in the lap of my husband.

“I love you. Through every storm,” I whisper, brushing his hair over his forehead.

He wraps his arms around me but says nothing. He’s keyed up and just as anxious as I am.

“Lilah’s almost done,” Kylian announces, calling our attention back to the board.

Patient 0622 is in post-op

Patient 0623 is in surgery

I blow out a sigh of relief and crack my knuckles, itching to see my baby with my own eyes and ensure she’s okay.

Decker captures my hand and brings my palm to his mouth. He places a kiss in the center, and murmurs, “Through every storm,” his breath hot on my skin.

Soon, a nurse pops out and calls us back to recovery. Decker, Kylian, and I head back together. Nicky stays out in the waiting room with Archie, and Kendrick remains as well, waiting to be called back when Dylan is out of surgery.

Decker pulls back the curtain, and the moment our baby comes into view, tears spring to my eyes. She looks tiny in the hospital bed—her little body still and her light brown curls a halo on the pillow around her head.

As if she senses our presence, her eyes fly open as soon as we step into the room.