More Than a Hotline Fling

-36-

Damian's POV

I didn't know what the fuck was in a woman's epidural, but Celia's contained a shot of my personal hopes and prayers.

She entered the hospital with a sweaty, red flush spread over her pale skin and remnants of beef stew caked on the T-shirt stretched over her belly.

I shot Jason sixty-seven 'Get your ass here' messages on the drive to Mt. Sinai. The driver and I shared a look of relief as he gouged my wallet. His damn meter was a sundial on a time warp for the three fucking trips Celia had me take back into their building.

"Excuse me, sir." A nurse brushed past me, giving me the same judgmental look all the others had.

I bit back my, 'It's not my fucking kid,' response and squeezed my biceps with my palms.

Holding up the wall corner placed me the farthest from Celia's bed. My arms crossed over my chest in my best 'don't involve me,' stance. I relaxed when Celia's doctor showed up, an older, Asian woman whose face was all smiles, until she peered over her shoulder at me with an announcement.

"She's five centimeters."

My brain blanched at that information. I blinked. "And?"

"Celia, do you want the epidural?" The doctor tucked a blanket over the parts of Celia I never wanted to see. "You're making great progress on your own. The epidural will dull the pain but might also slow down -"

"Yes." As I jumped all in at that option, the room's eyes narrowed at me.

Celia's were the sharpest glare. "Damian." She huffed. "Mind if I make it my decision?"

I held up my phone. "Jason's in Philly."

"I'll take it," she quipped at the doctor.

Two hours later, my feet were numb and back stiff from holding up the same damn corner. With rushed steps, Jason trampled into the room. He paused, palmed the doorway, and wheezed raspy breaths. His hair stuck up in random directions. Sweat dripped down his red face and his bloodshot eyes wore a wild, feral look.

"Am I -" he choked out, his hand palming his heaving chest.

"Right on time." My shoulders dropped an elephant's weight in tension as I lifted one palm up to him. With an inward curl of my fingers, I silently offered what I assumed was an afterthought. "Give me your keys."

As I expected, Jason's transport van was illegally parked out front. Its hazards were blinking, and the door was unlocked. With a chuckle, I moved it to Visitor Parking and paid the overnight charge.

For Jason's sake, and Celia's too, I was glad he made it but paused behind the wheel.

What the fuck do I do now?

June would know.

Tears rose in my eyes, blurring the gray cement garage wall out the windshield. The weight of her absence crumpled my crushed heart. Hot trails trickled down my nose, tipped over, and dotted the center of the steering wheel. My knuckles turned white from how tight I gripped it. Sharp pitches heaved my back as I rounded it over. Loud barks of sobs erupted out my mouth, scratching my throat.

Damian.

June's sweet voice, laced with a teasing tone that meant get my head out of my ass, appeared within my mind.

Celia's giving birth. Can't you stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something nice for her?

For once, I was envious of Jason. He was surrounded with everything he loved, his family. Mine was broken apart, shattered by the darkest part of my job. After more than a week, I was torn between hardening further in the search for justice and wanting to cave into any and all demands if it meant seeing June again.