Page 12 of When I Should’ve Stayed (Red Bridge #2)
Josie
Bennett and Clay hover over me as I put the thermometer to Summer’s forehead gently and wait for a reading. It beeps pretty quickly and comes back normal.
“Well?” Bennett asks, frantic to make whatever’s wrong with his little girl right, and I have to smother a smile not to laugh at Clay when he bugs out his eyes dramatically.
“Is she okay, Jose? Do we need to take her to the hospital?”
They’re a walking sideshow of worry, and Bennett’s farmhouse is their stage. And this isn’t the first house call I’ve had to make for them. Ever since Bennett and Summer arrived in Red Bridge, I’ve handled my fair share of panicked moments related to the care of this special little girl.
“She’s fever-free and doesn’t need to go to the hospital,” I tell them. “Honestly, she might have just choked on it a little when it was going down—”
“Choked?” Bennett cries, aghast.
I stand and busy myself with closing a curtain to block the piercing ray of dwindling sunlight that was shooting right in Summer’s face, and she coos and squeaks in my arms. Pulling the curtain and moving is a little counterproductive, but I’d rather be doing anything than looking at this panicked version of Bennett directly in the eye.
“Orrrr she just has a little bit of an upset tummy,” I offer, keeping my voice as calm and soft as I can.
Ben is the sleeping bear that’s already been woken, and Clay looks like he’s one baby cough away from curling up in the fetal position.
“A little bit of spit-up is completely normal in babies her age. Now, if it’s regular in frequency or projectile or something, then it’s more of a cause for concern. ”
“How projectile?” Clay asks. “I mean, it definitely shot onto my arm.” He holds out his sleeve as proof, and I finally let myself smile.
“Your whole body would be coated.”
He frowns. “They can do that?”
I laugh. “Oh yeah.”
“How do you know so much about babies?” Bennett asks, taking Summer back from me and tucking her carefully into the special straps of her braced swing.
“I babysat. I had a younger sister.” Truth is, I had two younger sisters. One died when I was young, and my mom makes sure the other one is dead to me. But I’m not exactly ready to get into all that right now. “Plus, they do a pretty good job of explaining this on a place called the internet.”
Bennett makes a face, and Clay chuckles, shoving Ben in the shoulder and nodding his head toward me. “I told you she’s funny, Ben. A real cutup good time.”
Bennett glares before leaving the room with the discarded bottle, and Clay waggles his eyebrows at me as soon as he’s gone, strolling over and wrapping me up in the kind of hug that envelops me completely.
I can smell and feel him, and it’s pretty much become the place I’m happiest on this earth in the last few months.
“Don’t worry about him,” he assures, jerking his chin toward Bennett in the other room. “He’s grumbly with everybody.”
“Not with Summer,” I hedge. Honestly, if it weren’t for his daughter, I’d probably think Bennett Bishop was a total a-hole. But the way he softens for her, the way he spends every waking moment of his days prioritizing her needs, tells me he might be a real grouch, but his heart is made of gold.
“No, not with Summer.” Clay agrees. “He’d fight the whole damn world off for her, I’m pretty sure.”
Knowing what we now know about the diagnosis she got at birth, and what a tough road it is for her and for her loved ones, makes the sentiment all the more bittersweet.
I did some research as soon as Bennett gave us the whole story, and it’s a guaranteed long and hard journey.
I don’t blame him for being the way he is—he’s carrying the impossible on his shoulders.
Type III is the most severe and progressive form of OI that can be survived past birth and has an almost invoiceable prognosis.
The chances that Summer will live to teenagerdom are extremely low.
“You know, he should consider hiring a nurse or an aide or something,” I say. “Not, like, full time or as a replacement for doing stuff himself, but it would probably put his mind at ease a lot when it comes to some of the more nuanced things about her diagnosis.”
Clay’s face is warm and loving as he touches his lips to mine and pulls back to whisper, “That’s a good idea, baby.
I’ll tell him.” He considers me for a moment before moving us around to hold me close, my back to his chest. His breath is a comfort as he whispers into the skin beside my ear. “You tired?”
“Yeah. I think I’m going to go home and put my feet up for a while. I never should have worn my new shoes to an entire shift at The Diner without breaking them in first.”
“Why don’t you come home with me? Bar’s closed tonight, and we need to take advantage,” Clay whispers, curling the corners of my lips up in a smile. I turn to peek at Summer, who’s now sleeping peacefully in her swing, and then look back to Clay. His eyes look like hot honey in the now-dim room.
“I maybe could. Grandma Rose is at bingo tonight with Melba.”
“See that?” He presses a kiss to my nose. “I love when a plan shapes up so nicely.”
I giggle. “But what about Ben? Does he need your help?”
“I’m pretty sure at this point Ben would be happier to be without my help tonight.”
“Why?” I snort. “What’d you mess up this time?”
He shrugs, spinning me to face him. “The bottle. A little. Maybe. But I remade it really carefully the second time.”
“I swear, watching the two of you is like watching baby ducks trying to learn to swim. Or…like Tom Selleck and Steve Guttenberg try to take care of Mary.”
His chin jerks back, confusion about my reference rife in his features, and my mouth drops open, appalled.
“If you tell me you haven’t seen Three Men and a Baby , we might have to break up,” I threaten.
He should be scared, but instead, he smiles. “Break up, huh? Are we official?”
“Don’t change the subject, Clay. Have you seen the movie or not?”
His eyes narrow. “We can watch it tonight.”
I pull away in a tease, grabbing my purse from Ben’s taupey-tan living room couch and slinging it over my shoulder. “Well, that was a close call. To think I almost ended up with a man who hasn’t seen—”
Clay scoops me up and over his shoulder, and I shriek as he carries me right past Ben in the kitchen and out the back door. “Sorry, Ben, we gotta go! I have to get Josie out of here before she loses her mind and says something she’ll regret!”
I pound at his back, but Bennett cracks a smile and waves, and I devolve into giggles at the sight. Seeing Bennett lean toward cheerful is like spotting a baby at the top of Mt. Everest. It doesn’t happen, and maybe even deserves a call to the cops.
I’m beginning to think Clay Harris and his boldly beautiful personality can brighten even the gloomiest of rooms.
It’s a superpower not held by many, and even though we’ve only been dating for a few months, it makes a future life without him look pretty damn bleak.