the child would be placed in foster care. However, this is extenuating circumstances. The physician’s already ordered for stat results on the paternity, and with Mom being here still, that buys this little guy a few extra days,” she assures me.
“See?” Tyler says. “It’s all good, my man. Where you headed?”
I know he’s trying to get my mind off the fact that my son could go into the system. Even a few days is too damn long when he has family who wants him. Me, his father—I want him.
“Uh . . . We’re taking the baby to see Melissa,” I tell them.
“She’s awake?” Reagan’s eyes light up.
“No, but they say that even in a coma they can hear what’s going on, so I thought maybe. . . .”
“Good plan. We’re coming with. Tyler and I stopped off at the store and bought some outfits, blankets, diaper bag, diapers—things like that.” She holds up the bag that’s hanging off her shoulder.
“Can we all be in there?” I ask the nurse.
She winks, grinning. “I only see two people, don’t you? Two people who are going to be calm and quiet and not disturb the patient. I know nothing.”
“You’re too kind.” Tyler winks back at her. Any other time, I would find this amusing.
The baby starts to fuss. “He needs to eat. Let’s get him to Mom, shall we?” the nurse asks politely.
I nod, and the three of us follow her to the elevator.
Chapter 8
The nurse sticks around long enough for me to feed him and then leaves us alone. I fight back the panic that threatens to break free. I’ve never taken care of a baby. My only saving grace is that my sister and Tyler are here with me; Reagan used to babysit for the neighbors’ kids all the time.
“Can I hold him now?” she asks me.
I nod, and she jumps from her seat and comes toward me. Like she’s done it a million times, she leans down and takes him from my arms. “Watch his head,” I remind her.
“Chill, Daddy. I got this.”
Daddy.
Tyler chuckles. “That just hit you, didn’t it?” he asks.
“I guess so. I mean, it’s just weird, I guess. The nurses have called me that, but with Reagan saying it, it’s . . . wow.”
“He’s so sweet.” Reagan brings him to her lips and kisses his little cheek.
I lean over, resting my elbows on my knees, my eyes never leaving my sister and my son.
“Kid’s going to be a stud,” Tyler jokes. I know he’s trying to lighten the mood.
“Care to elaborate?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “You’re his dad, and he has four cool-as-hell uncles. How can he not be?”
“Oh, yeah. This little guy is going to have the ladies eating out of the palm of his hand. But he’ll be a gentleman; I’ll make sure of it. And I’m sure your mommy will too,” Reagan coos to him.
“Wh-what ab-bout m-m-mom-my?” a croaked voice asks.
I fly to my feet. “Hey,” I say softly, reaching for her hand.
“R-Ridge?” she forces out.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” I soothe her.
“I’ll go get the nurse.” Tyler is on his feet and out the door in a flash.
“It’s okay. You were in an accident on your way to see me. They found your letter and gave it to me,” I tell her.
She nods. Our son makes a grunting noise and her eyes, panicked, search him out.
“He’s here, healthy and perfect,” I reassure her. “Reagan.”
She stands and goes to the other side of the bed. “Hi, Melissa. I’m Reagan, Ridge’s sister. I think this little guy would like to meet you.” She holds my son out so Melissa can see him. One arm is in a cast while the other has an IV running to it.
Tears fall from Melissa’s eyes, and a smile tilts her lips.
“Look at you,” a nurse says, entering the room. “Glad to have you with us. I’ll need everyone to step out while I examine her.”
Melissa looks panicked again.
“It’s okay. We’re just going to step outside. They need to take a look at you,” I murmur.
She closes her eyes, blinking back tears. When she opens them again, she appears to be calmer.
“I promise we’ll be right back.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze and follow my sister and Tyler out to the waiting room.
“Good news, yeah?” Tyler asks.
“Yeah,” I agree.
“I’m going to call Mom and Dad, tell them she’s awake.” Reagan skips off down the hallway.
“I already texted the guys, letting them know. You good?” Tyler questions.
“I’m good. Relieved. I don’t