Chapter Thirty

 

 

My steps are lighter as I enter the Emergency Room for the final time as a resident.

Four long years.

Many nights having to sleep without my wife.

Losing a lot of moments with my friends and their family.

It’s been said sacrifice isn’t easy, and many things were shifted to the back burner but I’m a better man, a focused doctor, and it made the moments I did share that much more special. Quality over quantity was the mantra during residency.

Aves and Breck are doing great— their brick and mortar shop growing by leaps and bounds. They’ve added a small retail section that has customers strolling in at all times. “Hey, Dr. Monroe,” Eliza, the head nurse calls. “We have a full morning but curtain three is calling for you.”

I walk over to the board to look at the patient information and look back to her. “Are you kidding?”

“I’m afraid not.” Her tone conveying the dismay at the situation. Twelve-year-old male, dislocated shoulder, possible child abuse. My mind races to Julie. To Darby and Kinsley. The rest of the little ones and rage fills me. I’d like two minutes in an alley with the scum who did this.

“Okay. Anything else I need to know?” I query.

“His little brother is in there. Won’t leave his side and his mom is talking to police. The younger one wasn’t harmed but witnessed it.” Shit. I flinch at her explanation and do my best to calm myself.

I push the curtain back and look into the faces of two boys. Wide eyed, the younger is cowering, and the patient, he sits up tall, in obvious discomfort but throws a protective air. I hold up my hands and grin. “I’m Dr. Monroe. How are you doing?” I extract a lollipop from my coat pocket and hand it to the younger boy. “Want one?” I proposition our victim and his head nods. I’ll make sure to stop and get a Starbucks card for Julie— she sneaks me the lollipops Mason still saturates her with. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.” I chuckle. Seems the boy and I share a weakness. I search for the correct color and hand it over.

“What’s your name?” I have this information but I need to build a rapport with him— get him comfortable so I can examine him.

“Roman. Roman Nelson.” He greets. “This is my brother Reese.”

“Nice to meet you both.” I sit down so I won’t tower over him, making him feel threatened. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“My daddy came back,” Reese talks around his sucker and to the dismay of his older brother. “Momma made him leave last time. It’s been a long time. He was banging hard against the door and Roman wouldn’t let him in. Then he busted the door and Roman made me hide in the closet. I heard him yelling. He grabbed Roman by the arm and pushed him into the wall. I heard a loud noise but Momma came in from the back yard and chased Daddy off with a knife.”

If that doesn’t sound like hell, I don’t know what is. Roman isn’t the one sharing but I see the burden he carries on his young shoulders. A small woman comes in, escorted by law enforcement and picks up Reese, brushing Roman’s hair back. She isn’t to blame and is doing all she can to protect her boys.

“Is he gonna be alright?” Her timid voice pleads.

“I’m getting to that part. Can I take a look?” I direct my inquiry to Roman, giving him some control back.

“Yeah. It hurts real bad.” His teeth sink into his lip. “I’m supposed to have a game tomorrow. Will I be able to pitch?”

“No, Rome. I’m sorry.” His mom tries to hide her tears. “We’re gonna go stay with grandma and grandpa for a bit. I’ll find you somewhere to play there.” His shoulders droop.

“That’s in Texas, Momma. I like my team here.” I stand and run my hands over his shoulder blade, feel the muscles tense and his howl of pain.

“Sorry, bud.” I step back, study the X-rays and deliver the news. “You won’t be pitching for a week or so. I’m gonna have someone come in and give you a shot so I can put your shoulder back in place.” He doesn’t flinch at hearing he’ll have a needle and remains stoic.

As Eliza comes in and preps, I begin to chatter. “Pitcher, huh?” He nods. “You know Mason Adler?”

His mouth drops. Reese supplies me information. “That’s his favorite pitcher. He studies his stuff all the time. Even his little league games. He cried when that guy retired.”

I have some leverage to reverse this shitty day in his mind. “You know he had a hurt shoulder?”

“Yeah, but he came back. Man, he’s good.” Roman is in heaven talking about his favorite player.

“He did.”

“Did you treat him?” He’s looking for any snippet I can give him.

“No. I was his catcher and I’m his best friend.” I drop that gem and let it sink in.

“No way.” His voice barely audible.

“Yep. I told you I was Dr. Monroe. Caden Monroe.” I wink.

“Momma.” She reaches for his hand and silently thanks me.

“I’ll make you a deal. While that medicine kicks in I’ll make a call and see if I can get you something signed. And if you come back from Texas, I’ll give you my card, you can call and I’ll get Mason to the field to give you some pointers.”

“Yes sir.” He sits up and braces for the worst. “And I’m good.” He rattles off his stats and I have to say I’m impressed.

I leave to call Avery and see if she can help me. Fifteen minutes later I walk to her car and get the stuff she’s delivering. “You’re a good man, Caden Monroe.” She kisses me.

“Because I have a wonderful wife who makes me the best.” I swat her ass and jog back into the hospital.

Handing him the trading cards, a jersey, and ball Mason signed for him averts his attention from the procedure I have to do. It isn’t the most pleasant and makes it worse because he’s a kid. “All done. Keep working and keep your nose clean.”

“I will.” And those words I don’t doubt.

“Have a safe trip.” I nod at the family and finish my day. I’m taking a two week break prior to joining a private practice group where I have set hours, one weekend a month on-call, and a shit load of time to spend showering my wife with attention.

 

 

“Nolan Adler. Get your tail over here.” Mason shouts for his son to leave Saylor’s side. She isn’t helping by keeping her arm around him.

“He didn’t mean to, Mason.” Saylor whispers. She crouches down, “Hey buddy. I’m gonna take you inside and dry your face. Your daddy is grumpy. I’ll put some cartoons on and make you some popcorn.”

“Really, Shortstop? He didn’t mean to piss in a balloon and chuck it at Holly?” I bite my lip. That kid is creative.

“He was trying to make a water balloon but our hose is in the garage. He improvised, Mason. It’s a little pee. It isn’t fucking cyanide. Chill.” She marches past Mason with Nolan safe at her side and Breck starts laughing.

“Karma, baby. Think back to all the shit you’ve pulled with Julie.” Mason shoots his wife an angry glare and stomps off. Holly appears, freshly bathed and Emberlee is laughing.

“That apple didn’t fall far from the tree.” She states the obvious.

“Cake!” Avery calls us inside. It’s my last weekend before starting work and we’re celebrating.

“Beer?” I call and she shakes her head. She must have wine inside.

“I want to say congratulations to my husband, Dr. Monroe.” She shoots me a sly grin. “And I guess one may call him Daddy in six months.”

Dead.

Ass.

Silence.

“Are you saying?” I hunt for the answer in her eyes, my throat clogged with emotion. We hadn’t discussed it but six months ago we decided to stop birth control. We were both ready and it looks like it happened.

“Yes.” Tears stream down her cheeks and I push bodies outta my way so I can reach her.

“Really?” She nods. I lift her up, clamp my mouth to hers and if she wasn’t already pregnant she would be from that kiss.

“Ouch.” Mason rubs his head. “What was that for?”

“That is so romantic. I tell you I’m pregnant and you look down and cheer for your dick. Caden trips over his feet to kiss his wife.” Breck scowls.

“And thank her. For making me the happiest man alive.” I wink.

“Man card. Hand it over.” Deacon quips.

 

 

Having free time is odd. My days are jammed packed with patients, but the weekends are the best. I’m able to go to the farmers market with Avery, enjoy the kids’ functions, Nolan is playing baseball, Darby is cheering, and Kinsley is determined to play football. Julie is creeping closer to entering teenage status and Holt and Holly both are playing baseball and softball. Right now, Nolan and Holt are playing for separate teams because Holt doesn’t quite have the bug Nolan does.

Nash plays t-ball so it consists more of us watching him sketch in the dirt while we gawk over his latest cartoon drawing. “We have to duck out. Julie has her first spring dance and we’re going dress shopping.” Avery stands from watching Nolan.

Deacon and Mason perk up. “Dance?” Mason inquires.

“Who is she going with?” Deacon pins his wife with a glare.

“For fuck’s sake.” Other parents in the stands shoot her looks but she ignores them. “A dance. A sweet little seventh grade dance. She’s going with friends.” Saylor grabs her purse and motions for Julie to join her.

“Ready, Momma?” Her cheeks are pink and I glance to the concession stand she ran from and see a little punk checking her out. I nod to Mason and Avery slaps me.

“Troublemaker.” She whispers.

“Who is that kid you were talking to?” Mason’s face is grim. Deacon whips his head and his body goes full alert.

“Julie Cassidy.” He levels her with a glare.

“Geez.” She puffs. “He’s someone’s older brother. I was getting a water.” She sits down in a dramatic flair. “It’s so hot here.” She bats her lashes at her dad. “And I think my sugar is a little low.” She turns those big eyes to manipulate Mason.

“She’s good.” Emberlee watches.

Deacon and Mason trip over themselves to race to the concession stand to get her something to combat her fake ailments. “Let’s go.” Saylor and the girls make a mad dash. I snag my very pregnant wife and drop a kiss to her nose.

“Be careful. Love you.”

“Love you. I’ll call you.” She waddles as fast as she can to keep up with them.

 

 

 

“I can’t believe you don’t know what you’re having.” Brecklynn sits on the couch in the room. Nurses are hooking Avery up to machines and her doctor should be here to check her any second.

I’m a bit calmer this time since I have some clout in the hospital— and I’m more educated. Her pregnancy was smooth and I support her wanting to be surprised with the gender. “I know. I’m going to have to return so much stuff.” Emberlee huffs. “I bought pink and blue.” Avery flips her off.

“We played rock paper scissors in the waiting room. I won this round so we need you to have two more so these chumps get a chance to be in the room with you.” Saylor asserts herself.

“How about you have two more and give them a chance?” Avery glares. Pregnancy has been smooth— a few hours of contractions and my girl is cranky.

“I hope yours has a small head this time so I can enjoy the next one.” Breck informs her.

“You came in last. I get the next one.” Emberlee argues.

“No. There’s only one winner. That was Saylor. After that it goes alphabetically. B is before E. And A is before C.” She looks smug.

“I learned my ABC’s in pre-school. But the rules to games you play I’ll never understand.” Emberlee pouts.

“You realize they’re planning our future children with us here and acting like we don’t have a say so?” Avery whispers.

“I do, Picasso. I understand your obsession with the Pope now.” I text Deacon, Mason, and Brody to come get their wives and give us a few moments peace.

 

 

 

“C’mon, Aves. Push.” Saylor holds her leg. I’m staring into her eyes and see the exhaustion. Bending down I put my mouth under her ear at her pulse point.

“Love you.” I assure her. She gathers strength, pushes, shouts and cries when she hears our baby wail.

“It’s a girl.” Her doctor says. Within minutes, our baby is laid upon her chest and we both stare. My fingers roam her skin, counting toes, counting fingers. They take her to clean her up and run the normal tests and I watch them like a hawk.

Placing her in my arms the nurse grins. “Healthy and seven pounds even.”

I carry our little girl to her momma. She reaches to grab her, cradling her to her chest and I have a moment. I love Avery. Crazy, wild, passion filled, embedded in my bones kind of love. Having a kid, that’s a love you can’t describe. You can’t experience until you have one. Biological or by choice— being a parent is something that you feel on a different level. One you didn’t know you had.

Avery’s lips brush her cheeks, her fingers rub her perfect little mouth. “Name?” Saylor taps her foot.

I laugh. “Willow Kate.” Avery sighs as I tell Saylor the name we picked.

“Be back. God this feels good to know something before them.” As she leaves, I scoot in the bed and cradle both my girls— my entire world— and stare in wonderment.

 

 

 

Her first steps tripped mine.

Her first words rendered me speechless.

Her first scraped elbow brought me to my knees.

Watching her try and blow out the two candles decorating her birthday cake makes me want to freeze time.

Willow is Avery in looks and me in demeanor. She watches everything, weighs each step she makes. Most toddlers are hell on wheels, going, going, going. Not my baby. She studies, plans, and tackles whatever she wants in meticulous fashion. She’s never dirty, doesn’t cry that much, listens to her momma, and has my fucking heart in her tiny palms.

“Daddy,” she calls and I’m at her side. “Elpz.” She points to the flame. I bring my face next to hers and count to three. We blow at the same time and extinguish the flame. Her chubby fingers catch my cheek in excitement, her body bouncing in the chair.

“Careful.” I steady her and decide I’d rather hold her. She points to the cake, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Just one.”

“Onez.” She agrees. As I said, her tempermant is great . . . except for the little treats on her cake. And that’s all my fault. I bend and snag a gummy bear, handing it to her, laughing as she gobbles it and searches my pocket for another.

Julie, at almost fourteen, seems to wrangle the other kids and get everyone settled for cake and ice cream but I’m not ready to let her go. Avery stands next to me and covers my hand resting against Willow’s back. “Love you, Picasso.” I feel the need to tell her all the time. I look around our kitchen, hear the laughter of our friends, feel the love that expands the walls— and I thank her.

Her other hand brushes her stomach and it’s something she doesn’t realize she’s doing. “Have something to tell me?” I waggle my eyebrows.

“Yeah,” she chuckles. “Another.” I whoop and startle my little girl.

“Daddy.” She covers her ears.

“Sorry baby. Mommy just told me you’re gonna have a little brother or sister.” Willow squeals and makes quick work of announcing it to the entire room.

“Me, too.” Saylor shouts.