Page 15 of Roxy's Independence
“What do you mean by that?” I turn from the closet and give her my attention. She wouldn’t say something consequential like that unless it was true.
“I don’t just have missed calls; I have fifty missed text messages. Something’s wrong with Easton.”
“Python’s boy?” I confirm.
“Yes. His lips are turning blue and his chest is caving in when he breathes. We have to go, Weston. Now. I’m going to call Python first, he and Kinsley need to get Easton to the emergency room as soon as possible. Can you call in a favor so they’re taken straight back and aren’t put in the waiting room? I have a bad feeling.”
“Yes,” I answer as I rush from our room and go to the bag.
I dial the number by heart, waiting for an answer. “Mercy Medical, how may I direct your call?”
“Hey, it’s Dr. Weston. I need to speak to whoever is in charge of emergency medicine tonight,” I tell the dispatcher.
At Mercy, we all go by our first names instead of our last ones, something about safety and keeping our identities as untraceable as possible. That’s one of the many things I like about working at that facility. I’m not easily found in the phone book. The reason for this is because there was a doctor that a patient became obsessed with, I’m talking Kathy Bates inMiseryobsessed, and followed him home. In her frame of mind, she’dconvinced herself into thinking they were in a relationship so the crazy bitch shot his wife, son, and mother-in-law in one fell swoop—therefore, the protocol was put into place so we could have some anonymity, and hopefully, keep that type of thing from happening to another resident.
“I’ll redirect your call to Dr. Samuel,” the operator tells me.
“Weston? What’s going on?” Samuel answers, having been informed ahead of time that it’s me needing to speak with him. I don’t waste a minute with pleasantries, instead, I give him what I know and have him ready for Easton’s arrival.
I trust the man, he’s a damn good doctor, but I will be having Roxy drop me off before she takes the car and kids to the clubhouse infirmary.
My good night just took a sour turn, I just hope we arrive in time before things go downhill more than they already have.
CHAPTER
TEN
Roxy
We’re goingto have to pay extra for not cleaning the cabin and leaving before we were scheduled to, but it’s money well spent in my mind because Easton, Selah, and Butcher need us. I’ve been on and off the phone with a terrified Hannah, who, along with her sisters, have seen the detrimental outcome of the birth if I’m not there in time to deliver their baby brother.
Weston and I switch places in the car at the emergency room drop off as the ambulance comes rushing into the bay with sirens blaring. We realize it’s carrying Easton when Python comes tumbling out with a trembling Kinsley in his arms.
“Go!” I shout to my husband as I give him the quickest peck on the lips I’ve ever given him before jumping into the driver’s seat and peeling out of the parking lot.
My thumbs are drumming on the steering wheel as I navigate through the streets that’ll lead me to the clubhouse. Nervous energy radiates from the back seat, strong emotions permeate from my kids, strong enough that I nearly choke on it.
“It’s going to be alright,” I reassure them.
“Hannah says you have to be there, Mom,” Canyon reminds me. “It’ll be critical if you’re not because nobody else is there with the knowledge of what’s wrong with the baby.”
“I’ll be there, I promise,” I state.
I have to be because the girls are never wrong with their predictions.
Ten minutes later, with tires squealing, I pull in between the gates as a member waves me in. I don’t take the time to assess who it is standing guard, but seeing the Imperial Knights patch on his back eases my mind. We’re home. We made it.
I zip into the parking space and jump out of the car. “Canyon, shut the car off and get your sister inside. Y’all can rest in the lounge,” I shout over my shoulder as I sprint through the doors.
“Fucking finally,” Butcher grumbles as he stops his pacing long enough to grab me by the forearm and steers me into the infirmary.
“We drove as fast as we could,” I tell him, biting my tongue and not bitching about the fact that his grip is a little tougher than it needs to be.
“She needs you, Roxy. I don’t know what to do. Something’s wrong,” he rattles, his voice sounding restless and beaten down.
“I’ll take care of her, Butcher,” I swear. When we breach the doorway, Selah is panting, her face is red and she’s sweating.
“Roxy,” she mumbles. “He’s not moving as much as he was yesterday.”
