Page 42 of Ever After All

I nodded slowly. “I’m okay.”

He moved his hand in one more slow circle before he held it in place and gave me a light pat, almost as if to emphasize my answer. “You are okay. It might help to pop in and check on Cassie before you leave tonight.”

After Dr. Jackson left the break room, I remained seated for another few minutes. I did an internal body check. I felt tired and weary in a way that wasn’t typical for me. I was just exhausted, sucked dry from the emotion of trying to help keep someone alive. That was difficult, no matter what. But to have it be something that had actually led to my mother’s death was something else altogether. I let out a sharp breath. Tonight’s events had taken me by surprise, resurrecting a grief I thought had passed.

If I’d learned one thing in all the years since I’d lost my mother, it was that you truly could not change the past. There were no do-overs. All you could do was try to find a way forward through the pain. Over time, the loss did become smaller, except you were always carrying it in your heart. Sometimes the pain of it was sharp, like when you hit your funny bone on something. It reverberated like an electrical shock, unexpected and piercing enough to take your breath away.

I swallowed and gulped in a breath of air before I stood. A few moments later, I took Dr. Jackson’s advice and stopped in to see how Cassie was doing. I was a professional, and this was my job. Even if tonight’s events had hit startlingly close to home, preparing yourself for the life-and-death moments we faced daily was always a challenge.

I was so profoundly relieved Cassie had made it through, that modern medicine helped turn the tide. It wasn’t as if I thought our team had completely saved her. It was a combination of details: her body responding in the right way at the right time and her having just enough reserves in her system to make it through a dicey situation.

When I walked into her room, she was propped up in bed, holding her newborn son. Her husband was in a chair beside the bed, sound asleep. I knew he had been awake for much of this, trying to be there for her the whole time.

Cassie had a weary and deeply felt smile on her face. My hands were actually shaking a little. This was the moment that my mother never got. I had to blink away the tears stinging my eyes.

I almost didn’t trust myself to touch her. Typically, I might’ve rested a hand on a patient’s shoulder. In this case, I started by lightly curling my palm around the back of her baby’s head. “He looks great. So do you.” I was relieved my voice was steady.

Her smile softened as she let out a sigh. “Thank you. I still remember your voice telling me to hold on. I tried. Thank you so much. I don’t know what happened, but I’m glad to be here now.”

I tipped my head to the side and felt my strength rolling in along with the calm I had called upon time and again. “We can explain it later when you’re feeling a little better. For now, you’re okay, and that’s all that matters.”

She blinked up at me. Her son was sound asleep on her chest.

“I’m done with my shift, so I’m heading out. They’ll keep you for a few days to make sure you’re stable. I’ll check in on you tomorrow, okay?”

Cassie nodded, her eyes sliding over toward her husband. “I think he’s tired.”

I laughed softly. “I’m not sure how much you remember, but he was with you for most of it.”

“I know he was.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “Thank you again.”

As I left, all I could think was that I needed to see Wyatt. It was a near desperate feeling to be in his presence.

I texted him before I drove away.

Me: I need you tonight.

Later, I would realize how raw and vulnerable it was for me to write that.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rosie

Wyatt: On my way.

When I got home, Wyatt’s car was already there. My emotions felt right there on the edge. Everything felt raw as if my nerves were exposed to the air. I needed him, needed the comfort of his presence, the warmth of his embrace, and the way I felt protected and safe with him.

We were comfortable enough now and in enough of a pattern that he was already inside the house. When I walked through the door, he stood by the kitchen counter. My eyes absorbed a few details—his jacket hanging on the hook by the door, his boots in the shoe tray, one of them tipped over. That detail was somehow comforting because one of his boots was always tipped over, specifically the right one because he kicked it off second.

He turned toward the door. He wore navy blue socks, a pair of jeans, and a navy T-shirt that brought out the blue of his eyes. His gaze met mine. I had no idea what he saw on my face, but he crossed to me quickly, helping me slide my jacket off and hanging it up as I slipped out of my shoes. Without a word, he folded me in his arms. I tucked my head into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until I heard him saying, “Hey, hey, it’s okay, Rosie. It’s okay.”

I trembled all over as the emotions discharged from my system. He simply held me, not demanding to know what happened, just comforting me and holding me. I had no idea how much time had passed before my tears slowed, and I could breathe.

I took in another gulp of his scent before I lifted my head. I could smell the hint of detergent in his T-shirt and the mingled scents from the brewery and him underneath it all. He smoothed my hair away from my cheek with one hand, holding me firm in his arms as he asked, “Sweetheart, what happened?”

I took a shaky breath and surprised myself completely by simply answering honestly. “We had to treat a woman who went through exactly what happened to my mom. She survived, but it was terrifying, and it just brought up—” My words ran out abruptly. I circled my hand in the air. “So many things. I’m exhausted.”

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