Page 63 of Finding Home with You

“Yes, he’s the baby’s father,” I tell her through sniffles and this time with a smile. “And if you get me my cell phone I’ll see if I can reach him.”

She begins to rummage through a plastic bag that’s hanging in the closet near the door.

“Ah ha!” she calls out and quickly appears next to the bed. “Found it, but it looks like the battery’s dead. We should have a charger at the nurses’ station. Be back in a sec.”

A few minutes later she reappears in the room with a charger in hand, plugging it in next to the bed, she sets it down on the tray.

“When I picked up the charger, they told me they were able to get in touch with your baby daddy and he’s on his way here,” she laughs a little and her cheekiness reminds me that something positive has come out of this shitty situation. “I’d guess he’ll be here in the next ten minutes or so. The roads are a mess though. Started snowing again.”

“Thank you,” I finally tell her and she gives me a comforting pat on the arm, but I’m not sure what more to say. I’m overwhelmed by everything right now.

Without the accident I wouldn’t have known I was pregnant, but that doesn’t mean I forgive Anthony for threatening Ryan and me, or that I’ve forgotten that he clearly tampered with Ryan’s car in an attempt to silence him.

This accident could’ve killed me. I could’ve lost the baby, and if Anthony thought I was pissed before, he’s seen nothing yet.

And I haven’t even told Ryan what’s happened.

“Get some rest,” the nurse says, dimming the lights. “You’ve had a stressful day.” She flashes me a kind smile and leaves the room.

Exhausted and aching, I take a few sips of water and put the bed back down as I close my eyes, falling asleep immediately.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ryan

“Fuck!” I yell, throwing my cell on the passenger seat as my latest call to Erin once again goes straight to voicemail. “Where the hell are you?” I ask the empty car as I reverse out of the parking lot.

I hear the tires screech as I turn the wheel sharply at the exit, the car sliding a little as it tries to get traction with the icy road. Thank fuck I left Erin’s car at the station and took a work car, because there’s no way hers could handle the driving I now need to do.

Flooring it, I head back toward the highway. As much as I know I need to report in, tell the captain what happened with Fitzgerald, right now I couldn’t give a shit about any of that. The only thing I care about is getting to Rockport and finding Erin.

My heart is racing in my chest as I pull onto the highway, my hands sweaty as they grip the steering wheel like a vice.

Suddenly my phone rings, the noise loud despite the pounding in my ears. I reach for the phone, swerving the car at the same time and sending the phone flying off the seat where it disappears down the gap beside the car door.

“For fuck’s sake,” I curse, immediately swerving across a couple of lanes as I head for the shoulder, ignoring the angry horns as I cut off several drivers in the process.

Slamming on the brakes, I lean across, my hand fumbling under the seat as I try and find the phone. Just as my fingers wrap around it, the ringing ends. Cursing, I pull it out, my eyes on the screen as I desperately hope it’s Erin finally calling me back.

Unknown number.

My heart starts to pound faster as I try to interpret what the hell this is supposed to mean. Is it Anthony calling to gloat? To let me know that he’s got Erin?

Running a hand through my hair, I try and figure out how the hell I’m supposed to deal with this, whether I should try and get a trace put on my own cell phone. Just as I’m about to call Joe, my phone chimes out with a text, the message letting me know that whoever has just called me, has left a message.

Swallowing hard, I dial into my voicemail, my heart still pounding as I lift the phone to my ear, unsure about what to expect when I listen to the message.

“Hi, this is Dr. Adam Reid calling from Massachusetts General Hospital. We have a patient here, Erin Connelly, who I believe you are the emergency contact for. She’s been in an accident and…”

I tune out as soon I hear the word accident. What the hell does that mean, accident? What kind of fucking accident?

Swallowing hard as I force myself to calm down so I can deal with the situation, I re-listen to the message, scrawling the doctor’s number on an old receipt in my pocket. Calling him back, I switch the phone over to hands free so I can start driving again.

“Dr. Reid,” comes the voice of someone who sounds far too young to be a doctor.

“This is Detective Ryan Summers,” I half shout. “I just had a missed call from you about Erin Connelly?”

“Ah yes,” he says in way that’s far too slow and far too casual. “Thanks for calling me back.”

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