Page 117 of Healed Hearts

“Not sure really.”

He hums, bringing a hand up to run his thumb along my collarbone. It’s silent after that, apart from the sound of the clock on the wall ticking. I count each tick, tick, tick as mybody grows heavy, sinking deeper into the mattress. Between the steady ticking of the clock and the feel of Holden’s thumb caressing my skin, I’m being lulled to sleep in what feels like no time at all.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Holden

I’m pretty sure Julian is asleep, and I’m thankful for that. His breathing is deep and even, his hold on my back slack, where before he was almost squeezing me too tightly. I continue to let my thumb rub back and forth on his collarbone. At this point, it’s more soothing for me than it is for him.

I need to do some digging into drug reactions. I’m almost positive he’s suffering from a paradoxical response to his medication. I’ve only seen it once before, in a patient who came in actively suicidal. I had only been working in the ER for a couple of years at that point, but I’ll never forget him. He was myage, and the reaction he had to his medication scared the shit out of me. He ended up having to be placed on a psych hold. Julian’s symptoms aren’t quite the same, and I’m not too concerned about that being an issue for him. It’s still enough to have me worried, though.

As soon as he wakes up, it’ll be research and having a talk with him about getting into his doctor to see about switching up his medication. I wonder if Beck knows any more about it than I do. I may talk to Julian and see if he would be okay with me talking to Beck.

At any rate, I need to call them and tell them I’m moving in with Julian. God, it doesn’t even feel real. Especially with everything happening with Wren and now Julian. It’s just… probably the worst timing in the world, but I still want to do it.

All that can wait, though. For right now, I’m going to keep an eye on Julian and make sure he’s safe until he feels better.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I know, I’m being trampled awake by a rambunctious Wren.

“Daddy! Holden! I’m hungry.”

Of course she is. I sit up and grin at her as she does a little dance on the bed beside us. Julian groans, so I roll off him to pick Wren up so she doesn’t wake him up. Once I’ve got her in my arms, I stand. “Shh. Let’s go get breakfast, but we’ll let Daddy sleep, okay?”

She brings her finger to her lips, miming the shh motion and nods. “Okay, Holden. Pancakes?”

“We can definitely have pancakes,” I say as I carry her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. “Do you wanna help me?”

“Yes!”

I let out a little laugh at her enthusiasm. “Okay, great. Let’s get our hands washed and we’ll start, okay?”

Helping her lean over the edge of the sink, the two of us wash our hands, and once hers are dried, I grab a chair for her to stand on. She climbs up, clearly used to helping Julian in the kitchen. I smile to myself. He’s such a good fucking dad, and he’s raising such a sweet little girl. “Okay, first we have to get all the supplies.”

I glance over at Wren and she looks up at me, brown eyes wide. I make my way around the kitchen, pulling out a mixing bowl, the pancake mix, and measuring cups. When I manage to find some vanilla extract in the cabinet, I pull it down too. “Lookie here, Wren. This is vanilla extract.”

She nods. “For cookies.”

“Yep,” I say, grinning at her. “For cookies, but also for pancakes.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Daddy doesn’t.”

“That’s because Daddy doesn’t know how to make good pancakes.”

She looks at me in shock for a second, then she covers her mouth and giggles. It’s adorable, and it makes my heart swell until it’s almost too big for my chest. “Okay, let’s get to it.”

She helps me measure the pancake mix and insists on stirring it all by herself once we get the rest of the ingredients in. She’s somehow managed to get the batter on her cheek, and I’m not entirely sure how. “All done,” she proudly proclaims, and I’ve got to give it to her. She really did do a good job.

“Nice job, pretty girl. Not a lump in sight. How about you let me cook them, okay? I don’t want you to get burned on the stove. But we can move your chair over so you can watch. Sound good?”

She gives me a thumbs up. “Sounds good.”

I help her climb down from the chair and move it across the floor so she can be closer. I burn the first pancake. I always do. It’s the tester pancake. It’s the rule. I’ve never in my entire life made pancakes that didn’t start with a burned one. Wren turns her nose up. “It stinks.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I burned it.”

“Oh.”

I didn’t know three-year-olds could be so damn judgemental, but when I turn to face her fully, she’s side eyeing me. “Let me guess. Daddy doesn’t burn them?”

---