Page 69 of Brighton

Her eyes scan as if they could see through the walls. She drifts toward Kimp’s room while I pause at the nurse’s station. “We’re here for Kimpton Ranger. Is there anything we need to know or anything we should avoid?”

“The doctor will be in…” She turns to the clock on the wall over the door. “At five for rounds. You may see us at one a.m. for meds and vitals. He shouldn’t be bothered by any noise.”

I lift Colt’s carrier. “This is his grandson. Betting babies crying isn’t something you’re used to in ICU. Or maybe it is. But we’ll do our best.”

She frowns. “It’s definitely not something we allow.” She looks around to see who’s watching. “This is highly unusual. Most guests aren’t allowed to stay, much less arrive after visiting hours. And the limit is one.”

“I understand. Do I need to remain in the waiting room?” I tilt my head to the entry doors. “If I’m allowed in, I’ll fall on my sword if there’s any backlash. I’m only interested in what’s best for my family.”

We both turn to see Brighton push open the door and head inside the darkened room, the only light is the flashlight from her phone.

“Well, I never saw you, Mister…?”

“I’m Elias Finchley, Mr. Ranger’s attorney. That—” I tilt my head toward Kimp’s room. “Is his daughter, Brighton.” A gasp calls my attention. “Excuse me.” I make my way to Bright who is standing at the foot of the bed, hand over her mouth. Her eyes roam over her father.

Kimp is pale, almost gray. A tube is taped to his mouth and the rhythm of the machine connected to it keeps time with the steady rise and fall of his chest. He’s connected to more machines than I can name. There’s beeping, snapping, and humming of machines, the flashing of lights, and the odd stillness of a man who’s always on the move.

“Go to him,” I whisper as I stand behind Brighton and grab my phone to text Brax.

Me: Here. Colt is fine. Brighton is worse for wear. Take care of Emberleigh and yourself.

I don’t get a response, but it’s after midnight, so I’m not surprised.

I fold out the green vinyl sofa sleeper for Brighton. How either of us will get a moment’s sleep with the incessant noises is beyond me, but we’ve got to try.

Brighton sits at her dad’s bedside, head resting on their joined hands. I’d almost assume she was praying from her position. After a few minutes, I realize she’s asleep, succumbing to exhaustion, holding on to Kimp.

A nurse bustles in just as I’m waking Bright. “Wake up, darlin’. Let’s get your boots off and get you into bed.”

“I’m fine here.”

“You’re not, and Kimp’s nurse needs access.”

Brighton’s head swings up, her eyes slowly shutting from the movement. She extends a hand, and I take it. Instead of following me to the bed, she faceplants into my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist. Her weight is heavy with her grief.

I kiss the top of her head just as Colt stirs and juts out his bottom lip. It’s hard to complain about him being pissed. He’s been in a carrier most of the day, and that’s not his speed.

“Tug off your boots and lay down. I’ll find water for his bottle and feed him. I’ll put him in bed with you after he’s asleep and take the chair at Kimp’s side.”

She agrees and shuffles off to the bathroom while I grab Colt and find food for him in his bag.

“He’s doing well, you know.”

“Huh?”

I turn to face the nurse who interrupted my thoughts as she stands poised to exit the door. “Mr. Ranger. He’s doing remarkably well. We’ll be back in a while. If you need anything, press the call button.”

“Thank you.” There’s relief in my tone. She smiles and lets herself out.

“Buddy,” I say to Colt. “Are you over this day? Well, turns out, we all are. And, technically, it’s tomorrow, so let’s put yesterday behind us, okay? How about some of these puffy things that are supposed to be food?” I shake a canister of random baby stuff and hope I’m not scarring my best friend’s son with my complete lack of knowledge.

“If I weren’t so overwhelmed, I’d worry about my ovaries exploding, but…” Brighton presses her finger to her abdomen a couple of times. “Even my ovaries are too tired for your charms.”

She collapses on the pull-out bed to the horrible groaning and plastic sound of cheap unused furniture. “Love you, Eli.”

Before I can say it back, her breathing has evened out, and she’s asleep.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us, buddy.” I toss a puffy dissolvable thing into my mouth and instantly wish I hadn’t.

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