Page 11 of Absolution

I open my mouth to ask, but I feel like I already know. Kyle asks, “And the other?”

Dr. Stevens glances at him. Then back at me.

“Baby D was born in the ambulance,” he says gently. “They didn’t have the neonatal equipment onboard to intubate a baby his size. The paramedics did everything they could… but by the time they got here…”

He swallows. “I’m sorry. He didn’t make it.”

It’s like the floor vanishes. Like someone pulled the plug on the whole world and left me suspended in the quiet that comes after disaster. My body forgets how to breathe. My chest tightens, and then, I sob.

One sound. One long, shattering cry that comes from somewhere I didn’t know existed. Deep and jagged and animal. Like my heart just ripped in half.

I don’t see Kyle fall apart. I don’t see my mother move. I don’t feel the IV in my arm or the pain in my gut or the nurse checking the monitors.

All I feel is absence. A vast, endless ache where he should’ve been. My son.

I never held him. I never kissed his face or counted his fingers or told him I loved him. But he was mine. I felt him move inside me. I don’t even know which one he is, Duke or Finn. I dreamed of them together, my boys. I planned their whole life in my head.

And now, he’s just gone.

I think my mother’s arms are around me. I think she’s holding me tight, crying too, whispering something I can’t make out. Her hands shake. I feel the pressure of her hug, but not the warmth.

I don’t move. I can’t.

I can’t reach for Kyle. I can’t speak. I can’t even cry anymore.

I just lay there, hollowed out, staring past everything.

Because nothing will ever be the same again.

And I don’t know how to live in a world where my son doesn’t exist.

Chapter Four

Kyle

It was gonna be a late night. That’s what I told Jackie. Technically, I wasn’t lying.

We had a case. Big one. But we wrapped by eight. The opposition’s biggest witness caved after three hours of being deposed, and my boss practically patted me on the back. Ishould’ve gone home. Jackie would’ve wanted that. Hell, maybe even needed it.

But when the guys saidhappy hour?I said yes. Just for a drink, just for a second. BecauseIneeded it.

Because ever since Jackie listened to that damn lady doctor, everything’s been a problem. Her body hurts, her stomach’s tight, her head spins, every day it’s something new. She was fine, then she wasn’t.

I even called my dad a few weeks ago, just to see. He didn’t sound surprised.

“They all do this,” he’d said. “Your mother did it too. You can’t let her suck you in. Stay sharp. Let her ride it out.”

So, I did. I didn’t snap. I didn’t yell. I didn’t treat her like a child. I was there. I paid the bills, found the new doctor, made sure the damn ceiling didn’t cave in.

And what did I get? A wife who won’t touch me. Who cries when I say she’s strong and accuses me of ignoring her. Who lies in bed like a ghost and expects me to just deal with it.

One by one, the guys leave. Some to their wives, some to other women. I stay. Nursing my whiskey at the bar. Waiting.

She’s been eyeing me all night. Redhead. Tight dress. Expensive makeup. The kind of woman who pretends not to notice the ring and then acts shocked when she finds out later.

I shouldn’t do this; I should go home and… what? Listen to my wife complain about everything that’s wrong with her.

I’m a man.

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