Page 107 of A Me and You Thing
“Wait, can I...” I’m shocked to my core as I watch him leave without another word. I don’t think he heard me above Josie’s cries, but still. I know it’s an emergency situation and everyone’s stress level just went up a notch or two. But they can’t cut me out. I won’t let them.
I’m not going to stand by and let my little girls be taken from me. Nope. I’m going too. Jordyn needs me whether she knows it or not.
I rush through the house and out the front door. Sawyer is pulling his jeep out of the garage while Bree waits on the front curb. I run to the gate.
Bree’s head whips around, her eyes hard. “Stay here, Quinn. It’s too much for you. We’ll take good care of them, I promise.”
“I want to go. Jordyn needs me.”
She glances down at my feet, seeming irritated. “If you insist, but you need to grab some shoes. And lock the front door on your way out.”
Does she think I forgot the door and my shoes? I didn’t. I’m just thinking about Jordyn right now, as is everyone else. A little girl screaming in pain has a way of focusing your attention on one thing and one thing only. The tension in the air is so thick, visibility on all fronts is poor.
Regardless, I can’t leave the house unlocked and I can’t run around barefoot. I dash inside, run up the stairs, grab my new purse and keys, slip on some sandals, and make it back to the front door in record time. As I step onto the porch, Sawyer guns the gas pedal and they take off, leaving me behind. I raise my hand as though I’m flagging down a taxi, to no avail.
The car doesn’t stop for me.
From the passenger window, I see Bree’s face watching me with a strange expression.
I’m like a pillar, rooted to the spot. What just happened? I want to be with Jordyn and comfort her. She needs me right now. I have to be with her... I have to...
But as she cried in pain, she wanted Bree. Bree was who she clung to when she needed comfort. Not me. I couldn’t even console her. My connection with my daughters is still new and very tenuous. Perhaps I would only upset Jordyn even more if I forced my affections on her.
That hurts.
Still, no one even thought to have me come along. I’m left behind as though I don’t matter to my daughters. As though they don’t need or want me. I reach up and hold my locket in my fist, wishing my family was still mine.
In the end, Sawyer doesn’t really trust me. That much is obvious. Of everything that has transpired today, that hurts the most of all—and that’s saying a lot.
I’m alone again for the second time today, left by the man who I thought loved me.
Welcome back, Quinn.
My keys jingle in my hand. I have a car. I have keys. I don’t need anyone to escort me to the emergency room. I don’t need permission to be with my daughter. I’m her mother. I have every right to be with Jordyn.
I turn toward the garage and take a few steps.
No. I can’t drive in the state I’m in. It’s not safe, not to me and not to the other drivers on the road.
I take out my cell phone and arrange for an Uber. I’m promptly told it’ll be here in twenty minutes. Which feels like forever.
I give Sawyer a call, just to let him know I’m on my way. He doesn’t get to make this decision for me.
But the opportunity to be assertive is lost to me because he doesn’t answer his phone.
Ouch. I call three more times. No answer. I tell myself he’s still driving, he’s checking in, he’s busy with a crying and frantic toddler, he’s overwhelmed.
It doesn’t help. I know he’s ignoring me. It only takes a second to let me know how things are going. It’s not as if I’m calling to chat for an hour. Just a simple update will do.
When my Uber finally arrives, the driver takes me to the local hospital, and I run into the emergency room. I quickly peruse the waiting room, but there’s no sign of Sawyer, Bree, or the girls. I approach the front desk.
“Jordyn Denali.”
The receptionist’s fingers fly over the keyboard and she studies her computer screen. “Can you spell it for me?”
I do so and she takes her time scrolling the records.
“She’s just a little girl. She would’ve just barely checked in. Within the last twenty minutes or so.”
