Page 354 of The Winslow Brothers

I scuttle into the seat on the other side of the bench so he can get in, and I wait for him to tell the cabbie where we’re going. At least I’ll find out then.

“St. Luke’s Hospital, please. As fast as you can go.”

“The hospital?” I squeak. “Ty, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s my sister-in-law Daisy. She’s having her twins today, but there’s something going on. I didn’t get the details, but Jude sounded freaked, and Jude doesn’t get freaked.”

“Jude?”

“My brother. I have three brothers, actually. And a sister, Winnie. I’m the proverbial middle child of all of us—or, you know, third oldest, as I like to call it.”

“You…you havefoursiblings?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly it hits me that not only does Ty have four siblings, but seeing as we’re on our way to the hospital for his sister-in-law’s distressed labor, there’s a pretty good chance I’m going to meet at least some of them. I don’t know that that’s a good idea.

My mind races with a bevy of insecurities I haven’t heard from my inner voice since I was a kid. Worry about whether someone will like me, anxiety over how a situation might look, questions over if this is the kind of thing I can handle or not.

Pulling myself out of my own head and looking over at Ty is the only thing that makes the overwhelming internal noise grow quiet.

He’s staring out the window, his mind clearly racing as we make our way across town. I want to speak up, to tell him I don’t think I should be a part of this, but when he reaches out to my lap to slide his hand under mine and squeeze, I shut right the hell up.

His grip is tight, and his message is clear, even without words. I’m a comfort to him in this moment, whether I like it or understand it or not.

Fucking liar,my brain taunts.You know you like it. The problem is that you like it too much.

I shake off the noisy bitch and hold on tight for the rest of the ride. We sit in silence, and I don’t try to change it. I knowwhen I’m at my most distressed, the last thing I feel like doing is talking. My throat gets tight, and my eyes get overly watery. Even the slightest hint of conversation from someone and I’m likely to devolve into tears.

I don’t know that that’s what Ty is feeling, but it doesn’t matter. I can respect his needs without knowing why.

When he doesn’t let go of my hand upon arrival at the hospital, even digging in his pocket to get the money for the cabbie at a completely awkward angle with his free hand, I don’t even bother begging off going upstairs like I planned in my head.

To be completely honest, something about the way he’s holding my hand like a lifeline makes it impossible to use my vocal cords at all.

Ty pulls me into the front entrance of St. Luke’s and heads straight for the front desk. I hold on to his hand in the background and listen intently as he does the talking.

“Maternity floor? Daisy Winslow?”

I swallow thickly at the sadness and worry in his voice and grip his hand reflexively. His tightens in return, and I lean into his shoulder with my cheek.

I don’t know how I’ve ended up here—both at the hospital and feeling this emotionally invested in a man I absolutelyshouldnot—but I don’t like to see him hurting. I don’t like it at all. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.

“You’re going to go straight down this hall, all the way to the end, and take the elevator to the fourth floor,” the receptionistexplains. “She already has several guests checked in, so you’ll need to go directly to the waiting room, okay?”

Ty nods jerkily.

“I just need you both to sign in here and then wear these visitor badges on your shirts.”

Ty grabs the pen quickly before scribbling down his name and handing it to me. Once again, the absolute insanity of it all hits me—along with the truly horrifying fact that I’m wearing very,verylittle under this coat—and for the first time, I timidly attempt to beg off.

“Ty, maybe I should just wait down here or—”

“No,” he says immediately, his answer almost a bark.

I nod. I’m not going to argue anymore if he feels that strongly, even if the level of mortification in my body is rising so fast, I’m getting dangerously close to resembling an erupting volcano.

Taking the pen in my free hand, even though it’s my left and not at all the one I’m used to writing with, I scribble my info in the open notebook on the surface of the desk as quickly as possible and collect my sticker from the receptionist. Ty has us in motion before I can even blink, and we’re headed for the hall at a near run—at least, for me, anyway. His legs are much longer than my own.

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