Page 96 of Beyond Oblivion

“Six minutes,” Thomas replied. He pressed down on the gas, weaving through traffic, pushing the car to its limit. The city streaked by, and all I could do was hold her close, feeling her heartbeat against mine, hoping, praying that those six minutes would be enough.

After what seemed like an eternity of clenching my teeth and silent pleas, Thomas finally skidded into the ambulance bay, leaping out and sprinting through the ER doors. Less than a minute later, they flew open again, a squad of nurses bursting out with a stretcher. Seeing them felt like relief for half a heartbeat before the dread crept in. Once the stretcher passed the threshold of the Emergency Room, what happened next was out of my control—even beyond Camille’s.

“Trent?” she called for me, reaching out.

“Right here,” I said, bringing her hand to my mouth, pressing my lips firmly against it.

I kept pace as they wheeled her through the automatic doors, the cold hospital air wrapping around us. As we turned a corner, Camille’s fingers weakly clutched mine, and I squeezed back. It was the only thing I could do. She looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes, and a flicker of something passed between us—fear, trust, the thousands of words we’d never said.

The end of the stretcher knocked against a second set of double doors, and once Camille was parked, the nurses pushed me aside, scattered to their stations, and got to work. As she and the baby were connected to monitors, the beeps of machines rose around us, an orchestra of urgency that matched the thudding in my chest.

From the corner I waited, watching them check her vital signs, start her oxygen, and somehow buzz around her seamlessly, completing tasks without getting in each other’s way.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” one of the nurses asked.

“Camille Maddox... Cami.”

“Hi, Cami, I’m Jeanine. We’re going to get you feeling better soon, okay?”

“Hi.” A man in light blue scrubs and a white coat stepped into view, blocking my line of sight to my wife. He looked younger than me, definitely not enough time between a legal beer and earning that coat. “I’m Greg, I’m the Physician’s Assistant on staff this afternoon. You’re dad?”

I blinked, unprepared for the label. “Uh, yeah.”

“I’m going to need to get a quick history from you. Does your wife have any allergies we should know about?”

I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”

“Cami,” he called. “Are you allergic to any medications?”

“No,” she groaned.

He turned to me, questions spilling out so quickly they began to blur together.

With the IV in place, monitors humming, and tests sent off to the lab, Camille and I were finally alone for the first time in what felt like hours. I held her hand as her eyelids drooped, exhaustion slowly pulling her under. A single tear slipped from the outside corner of her eye, and I reached to wipe it away before it trickled down to her ear.

“Do you hear that?” I whispered, leaning close.

Her breath stilled as she listened. “The fetal monitor?”

“Yep,” I said with a grin. “He’s a fighter.”

“She,” she said, turning to me with tired, bloodshot eyes.

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Doesn’t matter to me. Boy, girl, whatever. I just want you both to be okay.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

I lifted her hand to my mouth, pressing a kiss to her cool skin. “Rest, my love.”

Her eyes drifted shut, and I waited until her breathing fell into a steady rhythm. When I was sure she was asleep, I stepped out into the hall, glancing around for Thomas. Not seeing any familiar faces, I pulled my phone from my pocket, heading toward the lobby. Before I could even dial, I spotted him across the room.

“Is she okay?” he asked, closing the distance between us, his steps quick.

“They both are, for now.”

Thomas let out a long sigh, relief softening his face. “Thank God.”

My jaw clenched as the anger resurfaced. “Yeah,” I said, my voice low and bitter. “And no fucking thanks to you.”

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