Page 87 of Black Roses

I nod, another viscous knot hitching my voice. “You can bet on it,” I say before hanging up.

~ ~ ~

Hailey jolts me awake with her pained cry, the warmth between our bodies confirming we’ve been like this for some time. A glance at the clock on the wall tells me we both nodded off for a few hours. It’s almost midnight. And no Mason. No Cassidy.

I check Mason’s phone. It has a few texts from my sisters, who are still looking for my M.I.A. boyfriend. I curse myself for breaking my phone and leaving it on the sidewalk last weekend. If it weren’t for that, Mason would already be here and Hailey would be having the test she needs to make her better.

“Shhhh,” I breathe into her hair. I rub her back and tell her everything I can remember my mom telling me whenever I would get hurt. I wonder if the pain medication they gave her is wearing off. I wonder why nobody has been by to do anything for her.

“Want Dada,” she whimpers into my shoulder.

“Daddy will be here soon. I promise, Hailey.”

I look down at Mason’s phone again, giving me an idea. I open up his playlist and scroll down until I find it. The song Hailey was humming that day in the park. I press play and turn up the volume, hoping it will distract her from the pain.

She looks up at me and her little lip quivers. Her nose runs and I dab it with the cuff of my sleeve. I start singing along with the song, not caring what my amateur voice sounds like when my only audience is a two-year-old.

One big fat tear rolls down her face, right before her lips turn up into a precious untroubled smile. The smile that sends strong gripping hands through my body, taking a powerful and eternal hold of my heart.

chapter thirty-two

mason

I’m conflicted. I’m awed. I’m speechless.

I want to barge in the room and take my hurt daughter into my arms. The primal need to protect her—protect them—is strong. But what I’m witnessing through the window in Hailey’s private room is nothing short of a miracle.

Piper has my daughter in her arms; the type of embrace shared by a mother and child. She is swaying back and forth, rocking Hailey in a gentle calming motion. When Piper turns her body slightly to the side, I can see her mouth moving. It looks like she’s singing.

I crack the door slowly and quietly so I don’t alarm them. The music hits my ears and I smile. How did she know to play this song? It’s not the music that takes my breath away, it’s her voice. I haven’t heard it since the day I first met her when she was singing in my car. My feet are cemented to the ground as I listen to the love of my life sing and comfort my fragile daughter. I see Hailey’s little arm gripping onto her for dear life. My heart is overflowing with joy watching them bond.

The doctor assured me there’s no major damage. Maybe some stitches and a splint or cast for her arm. And while the father in me wants to walk over and take Hailey in my arms; the man in me knows this moment is too important for me to interrupt.

When I saw Skylar standing outside my building, running towards me with worry etched on her face, I knew something terrible had happened. I thought maybe it was Piper. Finding out my baby girl was in the emergency room ranked right up there with how I felt after my parents’ accident. Flashes of them battered and dying petrified me as Skylar and I raced to the hospital.

This became one of those times being recognized was truly a blessing. The nurse buzzed me back without question and a doctor appeared almost instantly to give me an update before I even made it back to her room. The news was hopeful, and wasn’t even cause enough for Skylar or her family to hang around and miss a night of sleep, so I sent them all home to hug their own children, promising to update them if anything changed.

Now, standing here in the doorway, watching the two of them together—I see my whole fucking future in this room.

Hailey shifts in Piper’s arms, spotting me leaning against the door frame. “Dada!” she squeals, reaching out to me.

In two swift steps, I’m in front of her, gathering her small, broken body into my arms. After a long embrace, I survey the damage on her battered body. Tears sting my eyes when she starts crying, mumbling indecipherable two-year-old words about her hurt arm and pounding head.

“It will be okay, sweet pea. Daddy’s here. The doctor will be in to fix you up soon. Then we can go home. Would you like that?”

She sniffles up at me, nodding her head.

I look over at Piper, who has given us space to share a father-daughter moment. “I can’t even begin to thank you for being here. Are you okay?”

Her glossy eyes glance down at Hailey as her hand comes up to cover her heart. She nods, tears spilling from her brilliant green eyes. I swear, beyond the tears, I can see something happening. And I think it’s called healing.

There is a bustling in the room behind me. The doctor and nurse have come in wheeling a tray table with blue paper covering it. “Mr. Lawrence, we’re here to do Hailey’s stitches,” Dr. Warner says.

The nurse explains the procedure, telling us the worst part will be the administration of the local anesthetic.

They allow me to hold a screaming Hailey tightly in my arms while they use a needle to numb her forehead. Then they give her a few minutes to calm down and let the drug do its job before putting in the stitches.

I take the time to question Piper about the accident. “Tell me what you know about how this happened.”

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