Page 126 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

“You obviously needed it,” he says, wiping his eyes. “You slept all night, Regan. That’s a good thing.”

“But—”

“I sat with him twice. Held him for hours. He’s good.”

I sit next to him in relief, then notice a new bag on the floor next to him. “What’s that?”

“I had Ryder drop off another pair of pajamas and all your bathroom stuff. Figured you’d want a shower.”

“A shower sounds heavenly. But—”

He holds up a hand. “I’ll go sit with him.” He stands, straightens the wrinkled shirt he’s been wearing since yesterday, and goes for the door. “Take all the time you need and try not to worry about him, okay?”

I nod. After he leaves, my hand wanders the fabric of the couch cushion he vacated. I look at the bed and wonder how long he lay beside me last night, holding me, crying with me, before he moved. Part of me wishes he’d still been there when I woke up. But that would mean he wouldn’t have been with Mitchell. And no matter how my heart feels about Lucas, that’s not what’simportant here. The little warrior down the hall—he’s the only thing that matters. Not my ridiculous pregnancy emotions or postpartum feelings about the warrior’s father.

Thirty minutes later, clean, but feeling guilty about taking even that long, I arrive at the NICU.

I know something’s wrong the second I see the way Lucas is looking at me. He’s holding Mitchell, but there’s so much pain in his eyes. My heart thunders as I approach. My legs almost fail me. Is he holding our dead son? Sitting here grieving for him as he waited for me?

But then I see Mitchell move, and my lungs fill with air.

“What is it?” I ask.

“He had another episode, or spell, or whatever they call it.”

My hand flies to my mouth as I choke back sobs.

“He’s okay. I talked to the doctor. He assured me it’s not uncommon. Listen, everything else is good. His fluid intake and output is stellar.” He smiles. “Did you know they monitoreverythingthat goes into or comes out of his body? And apparently our kid pees and poops like a champ. Then again, I’d expect no less from any son of mine.”

How Lucas can make me laugh when I want to scream and crumble apart is beyond me.

I step next to him and hold out my arms. “Can I. Please? I need to.”

He stands confidently and, without any help from a nurse, shifts Mitchell into my arms. I kiss my sweet boy and then look up. “You’re getting pretty good at this.”

He takes a bow, making me smile.

“Were you here when it happened?”

His head shakes as guilt crosses his face. “It was early this morning. I should have been here.”

“Lucas, remember what you told me. We can’t be here twenty-four seven. We’re here enough. And he has a great team of doctors and nurses.”

“Wow.” He tilts his head and studies me.

“What?”

“A good night’s sleep and a shower really did you good. You aren’t freaking out nearly as much as I thought you would.”

I look at our sleeping son, relieved with each and every rise and fall of his chest. “I’m sorry I sort of fell apart on you last night.”

“Regan, you just had a baby. Even if he was full-term and totally healthy, you’d still be allowed to do that.”

“Well, thanks. I wasn’t sure I’d get any sleep at all before you climbed into my bed.”

Unwittingly, my cheeks flush. Lucas smiles. “You okay, Ray? Your whole face just turned three shades of red.”

Ray. It’s been a while since he’s used that nickname.

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