Page 10 of Healed Hearts

“Daddy?”

“I’m coming, baby girl,” I shout through the bathroom door. I’d hoped that Wren would start feeling better, but she hasn’t. I can’t lie. It’s starting to worry me a bit. She’s barely been able to stay awake. I’m trying not to spiral, but Maya was the same way, and now she’s gone. I barely survived losing her. No way I’ll survive losing Wren.

Stop, Julian. Wren’s okay. She’s just sick. Kids get sick.

I step out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. “Did you have a good nap?” I ask. Wren nods, but it doesn’t look like shehad a good nap at all. She looks like she hasn’t slept all week. God knows I haven’t.

“I have a boo-boo, Daddy,” she says.

“Oh, that’s no good. Where at?”

She lifts her shirt and my stomach fucking drops out, falls straight to the floor. She has a bruise on her stomach. I try not to let my panic show on my face. “How did that happen, baby girl? Did you hurt yourself on something?”

“Don’t member,” she mutters.

“Let Daddy see,” I say, sitting down beside her on the bed. “Does it hurt when I touch it?” I ask, reaching out to touch the bruise.

“No,” she says.

That’s good, right? It has to be a good sign. “Are you feeling any better?” I ask. She shrugs, blinking up at me with bleary eyes. The worst part of this whole thing is there’s really nothing for me to do. She’s not throwing up. She’s not running a fever. She’s not coughing. Not a single symptom that I can try to treat or fix. She’s just… not herself. And that worries me, almost more than anything else.

“Let Daddy put a movie on for you. I’m gonna call Mamaw, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

She nods, so I get her set up with a movie, and step out of the room.

Ruby, thankfully, answers on the second ring. “Hey, Julian. How’s our little one doing today?”

The genuine concern in her voice makes my throat tighten, and I have to swallow hard a couple of times before I can speak. “I’m not sure, really. She’s still sleeping a lot.”

“Hmm, still no other symptoms?”

Should I mention the bruise? It’s probably nothing, but something about it has me a little freaked out. “She has a bruise on her stomach. It wasn’t there yesterday.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line that makes my heart try to climb its way into my throat. “Ruby?” I choke out.

“You may want to take her to get seen.” Fear spirals so quickly through my body that I forget to breathe. “She’s probably fine, but if she is fighting an infection, she may need antibiotics.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. To be fair, I don’t think I could manage to talk right now if I tried.

“It’s going to be okay. Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” I say, but it comes out more like a croak than an actual word. I clear my throat. “No. Should I take her to the hospital, you think? Or should I just wait until Monday and take her to her doctor?”

Ruby hums. “Well, she’s been feeling down for a week, so if you want to wait a couple more days, she should be fine. But if it is something that needs medicine, it’ll be better to get it in her system sooner.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll take her in today,” I say. Ruby sounds calm, which calms me down too. “I’m so thankful for you, Ruby. Honestly, no way I could do this without you.”

She chuckles. “You’re a great dad, Julian. Give yourself some credit. Please call me anytime you need me. I’ll always be here for the two of you,” she says.

“Thank you. I’ll keep you updated.”

After saying our goodbyes, I head back into my room and Wren is asleep again. All the calm I managed to gather during my talk with Ruby disappears in a flash, anxiety taking its place. God, what is wrong with my baby? I lift her into my arms and carry her to the car.

By the time she’s buckled into her seat, she’s awake again, and I’m trying to keep the tremor in my hands to a minimum. It’s not quite working for me.

I watch her in the rearview mirror as I drive to the hospital. I was hoping to be more calm, but I’m not at all. Hospitals are amajor trigger for me, and I’m not at all looking forward to this. By the time I pull into the parking lot, I’m nauseous. God, I just about lived here when Maya was sick. Wren and I spent many hours in these halls, trying to make sure she got to spend as much time with her mom as possible.

I climb out and open Wren’s door, unbuckling her and lifting her out of her seat. “Walk, Daddy?” she asks. I’d really like to hold her, but that’s a me problem, and the fact that shewantsto walk is probably a good sign. She’s probably totally fine, and I’m freaking out for nothing.

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