Series Starter Firsts in Series Collection - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,149

top of my head, then squeezes Aaron’s shoulder and walks away.

“What was that?” Aaron asks.

“He’s emotional, Aaron. His daughter’s life is at risk,” I say defensively.

“Yeah, I get that, but I’ve been standing here the whole time. He was worried about you,” he points out.

“Well, yeah, I’m like a little sister to him. We’ve spent a lot of time together the last few months. I’ve been his shoulder through all this.”

“McKinley Rae,” he warns.

“Look, there’s nothing going on between us. Am I happy about that? No, not really. Can I change it? No. Evan is a great guy, you know that. He has too much going on in his life to notice his best friend’s little sister.”

“He looked like he noticed to me,” he retorts.

“He’s hanging on by a thread, Aaron. Misty hasn’t been taking care of herself and his biggest fear is possibly about to become a reality. His daughter is in danger. His parents don’t live here and his grandparents are not in good health. They can’t sit here with him, so he needs someone. That someone is me.”

Aaron’s quiet for a few minutes before he finally says, “I get that, Kinley. I do. He’s my best friend and I’m glad you’ve been there for him. Hell, I even encouraged him to let you help him. What worries me is your feelings are more than just helping out my best friend. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I won’t. You have nothing to worry about, Aaron. He needs us right now more than ever.”

He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into him. “You’re right. I just worry about you. About both of you, really.”

“You don’t have to. I’m a big girl. I just…my heart breaks for him, Aaron.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he guides me to one of the chairs along the walls and we settle in, waiting to hear from Evan.

Chapter 17

Evan

She’s here. She’s okay. I keep repeating those words on my way back to Misty’s room. I needed her, and when I couldn’t reach her, I about lost my shit. My daughter’s life is in danger and McKinley was missing. It was almost too much for me to process. The rational side of my brain realizes she wasn’t missing, but the stressed, over emotional side put up a strong fight.

Knowing she’s here, it helps. I wish I could say I’m focusing on my daughter and make it better, but I can’t. It all comes down to hurry up and wait. Wait to see if Misty’s body can give her what she needs. Wait to see if my little girl’s heartbeat resumes to a normal, healthy rhythm. Wait for the doctors to tell me if I’m going to meet my little girl two weeks earlier than what I thought.

I fucking hate waiting.

When I enter Misty’s room, she’s resting. I don’t know if she’s really sleeping or just has her eyes closed. I don’t care either way. I have no plans to talk to her. I blame her for this. She refused to take care of herself, to take care of my baby, and now I could lose her. The doctor said the shots they are giving Misty will help the baby’s lungs fully develop faster and two weeks is minor in comparison to some early deliveries. Regardless, she did this. I will never forgive her.

Light filters through the room as the doctor comes in. “Evan, there’s no change and I’m not willing to risk waiting any longer. We’re going to take Misty in to do an emergency cesarean. You can scrub in and be in the room. I’m going to go prep. I’ll send the nurses in to get her ready.” He walks closer to the bed and to her. “Misty,” he says, turning the light on above the bed. She opens her eyes.

“I heard you,” she says, no emotion whatsoever in her voice.

The doctor nods his head. “Evan, if you’ll come with me, you can stop and update your family and then let the nurses know you need to scrub in.”

I wait for him to leave the room before I address Misty. “I’ll see you in there.”

She nods and rolls to her side, putting her back to me. Not able to be alone with her for one more second, I leave the room in search of my family—Aaron and McKinley. I find them where I left them in the waiting room. McKinley has her head on Aaron’s shoulder and they are watching