Page 1 of The Weight of Your Wishes

PROLOGUE

GRANT

With my head face down in my palms and the weight of the world on my aching shoulders, I debate fleeing.

A shaky breath forces its way through my lips as I sit up. My back hits the hard, plastic chair that my ass has been planted in for five hours now, and I remove my baseball cap, running my hands through the sweaty strands of hair atop my head.

A soft knock sounds from the other side of the heavy wooden door. It reverberates through the room, right into my chest where my heart starts thudding violently against my ribs.

“Mr. Ledger,” the nurse greets me with a conciliatory glance. I tip my chin down in acknowledgment. Her eyes dart down to my muddied work boot tapping the stark-white linoleum before continuing, “I need to check how dilated she is, so I’m going to go ahead and wake her up.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and wipe the sweat from my sunburned forehead as she approaches Cynthia.

A few hours ago, they stuck a massive needle right through the fragile skin of her back for an epidural. She begged for it, screaming and clawing at the bed like a bat out of hell. I’d never seen anything like it. It wasn’t an easy process; she’d gripped my hand harder than any man I work with ever could’ve and gritted her teeth, barely suppressing her whimpers of pain. But she had to be still, no matter what. The needle had to hit its mark.

She did it, but that hadn’t surprised me. We’ve been friends since we were kids, so I knew Cynthia Davis had always been made of tough stuff. One look around the hospital room, empty other than me, said enough about the life she’d lived. She never had anyone other than me, and that hadn’t been worth much. I came to learn that when she left me last year. My throat tightens painfully as the unwanted memory creeps back into my head.

We relied on each other a lot throughout our lives. She needed me to get away from her parents, and I needed her because she made me feel like someone that mattered. Growing up, I had strict rules I had to follow—don’t speak unless spoken to. Be quiet and be polite. Do your schoolwork, help your mother with the house, and leave your father alone. He works hard, and he’s tired. So, I never opened up to anyone other than Cynthia, and she never judged me for how I was. She never called me dumb like other kids had; she listened. I felt normal around her. We leaned on each other until the day she ended it all.

At eighteen years old, I thought we had it all figured out. Cynthia and I had been best friends turned high school sweethearts. We were going to get married, have a baby, and move into our own place. I’d work for my dad, and she’d do whatever she wanted—work, go to school, or nothing at all, I didn’t mind. I would’ve supported her in anything she wanted—anything other than what she ended up deciding to do, that is.

I should’ve seen it coming, but I’d been so comfortable in our relationship that I didn’t think twice about the wild look she’d get in her eyes every once in a while, the bolder makeup, or even the wrinkle in her forehead she began to get when I’d talk about our future. My heart constricts in my chest. Turns out, I’m as dumb as everyone ever said I was because I wholeheartedly believed I was enough for her. I believed it until that very day when she told me she was leaving our small town. She said she couldn’t stand to be here anymore; she envisioned more for her life than these woods and these simple-minded folk.

I watch as the nurse rouses her awake. She blinks dazedly, her face ashen. I’ve never seen her look so weak. Abruptly, I stand and take the few steps toward her hospital bed. Her round, blue eyes peer up at me gratefully. The nurse is already lifting the blanket and propping her legs up. I place the cup down and move to help her, keeping my eyes fixed on the wall as she does whatever it is that she’s doing.

Within seconds, the nurse withdraws her gloved hand and drops the sheet. She rushes to the trash can and throws her gloves away before turning around. “I’m getting the doctor. It’s time to push! The baby's head isright there.You dilated much quicker than we anticipated.”

My eyes nearly leap from my head as I gasp. The door slams shut behind her, and I begin to pace back and forth.

“Thank you for coming,” Cynthia says shakily, the nerves clear as day in her voice. I nearly scoff. What did she expect me to do? She knew I’d show up for her, no matter what.

“You knew I would.”

When I got a call from an unknown number earlier today while I was working, my hackles rose immediately. No one ever called me unless they needed something, and I had all the numbers for those people programmed in my phone already. When I picked up and heard her choked sobs on the other side, my heart plummeted to my stomach. “I’m back, Grant. I’ve been back for a while,” she’d rasped. “I’m at the hospital, about to have a baby.” I nearly fell to my knees. Her words were like a punch to the gut. I’d convinced myself that she’d come back someday, that she’d regret leaving me here, and we’d be together again eventually. But I guess that’s why they call me dumb.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. Whether she broke my heart or not, it’s not in my nature to leave her to fend for herself. Ill will aside, I can’t bring myself to hate the only person I’ve ever had.

She still hasn’t told me how this happened because as soon as I got here, she was getting the epidural, and then she fell asleep. I figured she needed the rest for what was about to come. I heave a sigh at the magnitude of this.A baby.Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I head back over to her, clasping her hand in mine. I try to paste a reassuring expression on my face, but I’m sure it looks more grim than anything else.

There’s a quick, sharp knock at the door, and then it swings open. A whole swarm of medical professionals rush in, and a new layer of sweat breaks out on my forehead. They’re rolling in carts and adjusting things and asking questions. I rub my chest to quell the ache there. I’ve never been more overwhelmed in my life, so I can’t begin to imagine how she’s feeling.

“Are you the dad?” The question slams through the fog in my head, and I give the doctor my full attention.

I shake my head. “No, ma’am. Just a… a friend.”

“Okay, well, just stay right there and keep comforting her through this. She needs someone.”

Nodding, I look down at Cynthia. Her eyes are squeezed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly. Unsure of what to do or say, I give her hand a squeeze and stay silent. That’s always the best I can do.

Soon enough, the doctor is stationed between her legs, instructing her how to push. I can’t focus on a word she’s saying; the frenetic buzzing in my head won’t let me.

Then, with two complete strangers holding her legs up, she begins, her face beet red as she pushes with all her might, her teeth bared viciously. The whole thing takes less time than I expected. I thought she’d be pushing for hours, but before I know it, the doctor says, “Baby’s crowning. I see a full head of thick, dark hair.”

Cynthia’s eyes well with tears as she continues to push. My heart rate ratchets up, and I squeeze my eyes shut. All I can think is,please let this baby be healthy.The thought consumes me until it’s painful. All manner of bad things flashes behind my closed eyelids. The babyneedsto be okay.

I don’t know why I suddenly care so much. I hadn’t put much thought into it until this very moment, but I feel like I’d rather die than let anything happen to this baby, this innocent child who didn’t ask for any of this mess.

“One more push,” the doctor says.

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