Author: Cheryl McIntyre

No.

No. She’s wrong. She has to be wrong.

I propel myself forward and an officer stops me as I approach the building. He places his palm on my chest as I try to move around him. “You can’t go in there right now.”

“My girlfriend works here,” I practically shout. “What happened?” I grip his wrist, ready to toss him off me.

“Armed robbery,” he informs me. “Was your girlfriend working tonight?”

“Yes,” I say urgently. “Lucy Braden. She’s a waitress.” I look past his shoulder in an attempt to see through the glass doors as I use my whole body to push him back. “Is she okay? Can I go see her? Please?”

“Sir, I need you to calm down and listen to me.” I shake my head and shove him back. I just want to see Lucy. I just need to see her.

The officer grabs my arm and I jerk away. I make it two quick steps before he wraps his arm over my shoulder, crossing it over my chest. And now another cop’s joined in, taking my neck into a choke hold. Between the two of them, I can’t move.

“Sir,” the first cop pants. “If you calm down I can try to get you some information, but you have to cooperate with us.”

What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m struggling with the police and I have no idea where Lucy is. I stop fighting as realization hits, piercing through my panicked brain. “I’m calm,” I rasp. “I’m calm. Just tell me she’s okay.” My voice drops as I plead with him to reassure me the images swirling through my head aren’t true.

They release me slowly and I rub my hand over my chin. My fingers are shaking so fucking bad as the first officer says something into his radio.

“What’s your name?” the second one asks me.

“Par—Park Reed. I’m looking for Lucy Braden.”

The first one turns back to me and I can tell it’s bad. I can see it on his face. I take a step back as if that will make the news change.

God no.

Please no.

“Both females were taken to Roddenberry about ten minutes ago.”

Ten minutes ago. While I was driving over here, Lucy was in the back of an ambulance.

Oh, my God.

“That’s all the more I know right now,” he continues. “I suggest you go up to the hospital.” He pauses, placing his hand on my arm. “They only let family in,” he adds.

It takes a second for that to register through my fear-filled thoughts as I run toward my car. Just a few feet away, I’m stopped by my cell phone chirping in my pocket.

I fish it out quickly, nearly dropping it. Lucy’s name on the screen blurs my vision as moisture fills my eyes. “Hello?” I croak.

“Park?” Lucy breathes and my legs give out. I hit the ground, knees first, and catch myself with my free hand as the tears spill over.

“Lucy, baby,” I murmur. “Lucy. Lucy.” I can’t stop saying her name. I try to get a handle on it, but the relief is so overwhelming, I just keep weeping like a child. “Are you all right? Tell me you’re all right.”

She sniffles and my stomach twists. I squeeze the phone as my head spins. “I’m okay,” she says, her voice small.

“The baby…”

“The baby’s okay too. They’re going to do an ultrasound to be sure, but the heartbeat…the heartbeat was go-good.” She’s silent for a moment and I’m thanking God over and over as I kneel in the road. “Kimmie,” Lucy cries as she releases a sob. “He killed Kimmie, Park. She’s dead. She’s—” Her words catch and she begins to cry audibly.

“I’m on my way, Lucy. I’m coming right now. Just keep talking to me.”

I shove myself up and rip the door open.

“I can’t believe she’s gone.” She begins to cry harder and my heart is breaking for her.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m almost there.”

“Please…hurry. I need you.”

Fuck. Fuck. “I’m hurrying. I love you, Lucy. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” She grows quiet, crying quietly into the phone. I don’t say anything else, just letting her get it out.

“I’m pulling into the ER right now. Where are you?”

“I’m in the waiting area. I’ll meet you at the doors.” The line goes dead and I hate the way it makes me feel. I need to see her. I need to touch her.

I tuck my phone into my pants and run. The doors slide open and she slams into me. My hands glide over her back as I hug her to me. I swear I search nearly every inch of her, checking for any injuries beneath her blood stained clothes. She presses her face against my neck and I hold her tightly.

My skin grows wet from her tears and I’m at a loss for words. Nothing I can say will make this better. And as horrible as I feel, I can’t stop being grateful it wasn’t her.

***

Lucy hasn’t let go of the sonogram since the doctor placed it in her hand. She even holds it now while she sleeps, wrapped securely in Bree’s arms. It seems to be the only thing keeping her together.

I close the door lightly after checking on her for the tenth time since I got her home.

“How is she?” Guy whispers.

“Sleeping,” I say as I lower myself into the armchair. I rub my face, the exhaustion finally starting to hit me. We spent several hours at the hospital, then a couple more at the police station before we were able to come home. Lucy showered and passed out almost immediately.

“What the hell happened?” Chase asks.

I’ve heard the story several times now through Lucy’s recounts to the cops, but I still can’t believe it.

“The guy came in to rob the place,” I say, my eyes flicking to the bedroom door to verify I shut it. “He had a loaded gun.” I have to stop again, this time to take a breath because even though I know she wasn’t hurt, what could have been fills my head.

“He got all the money he could and made the girls get on the ground. He was getting ready to leave, I guess, but the cook came out to see what all the yelling was about. Lucy said it startled the guy and the gun just went off.” I shudder as I say the words. It could have been her. A few inches to the left and it would have been Lucy’s head struck by a bullet.

I shove myself out of the chair and grab my keys. “Stay here until I get back,” I tell Guy. “I don’t want her waking up and wondering where I am. Not after… Not after what she saw.”

“Where’re you going?” he asks.

“I need a cigarette. But don’t tell her that. I quit.” I squeeze the keys in my palm. “Or I did. I will. I just need a smoke or a drink right now and I think a cigarette is the lesser of the evils.”

“I’ll get them,” Chase offers. “You need to be here when she wakes up.”

I nod. He’s right.

I hand him my wallet and sink back into the chair. I can’t stop thinking about it. Wondering what I’d do if something had happened to Lucy. To Lucy and the baby. There’s no way I would make it. Now that she’s become part of my life, I don’t want to live it without her.

“How are you doing?” Guy says, snapping me out of my dark thoughts. “Looked like I was losing you.”

I shake my head. “I have fifty different notions running a marathon through my head, and none of them are good.”

His eyes rake over my face as he silently regards me. As I look back at him, it occurs to me that I more than likely wouldn’t have ever met Lucy had it not been for our fight the night I tried to call Hope.

The more I think about it, the more I start to realize. “If I had never met Lucy, she wouldn’t be pregnant right now,” I say. “She probably wouldn’t have been working tonight because she wouldn’t have felt the need to pick up an extra shift.”

I drop my head into my hands. I can keep going back, farther and farther, all the people that would be better off if I had never walked into their lives.

“So you think she’d be better off to lose her friend and you and the baby?” He sits forward now, mirroring me. “You can’t know what could have happened if something was different. Stop having a pity party for one.” He points his slender finger at me and leans back. “She loves you and the baby. And you’re both better people because of it.”

I don’t respond. I quietly consider his words, trying to decide if there’s any truth to them. In the end, I recognize the fact that it doesn’t matter. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am. But it just doesn’t matter because the simple truth is this: Lucy and I could have walked different paths, but we didn’t. And nobody can be sure that had we taken different roads our paths wouldn’t have crossed again at some point.

Life lesson number 13: Focus on what is—not what could have been.

45

Lucy

“Would you like to know the sex of your baby?”

I glance at Park. His gaze is intent on the small screen. They hadn’t been able to tell during my first ultrasound. I think it was better that way because I couldn’t have appreciated it at the time.

“Yes,” I say. “I want to know.”

Park’s hand finds mine as the technician turns back to the monitor. “I’m obligated to tell you there’s a chance I’m wrong,” she says, “but I’m 99% sure you’re having a girl.”

My eyes instantly fill. Park’s hand tightens around mine.

“We’re having a girl,” he says, his tone so soft I barely make out his words. His eyes drop to mine and he grins. “You were right.” He leans in, placing a quick kiss on my lips before he returns all his attention to the screen. “A girl,” he says again.

“You have a name picked out?”

“Emari Kimberly Reed,” I tell her. I try to fight off the memories from a month ago, but I fail miserably as images of the funeral flood my thoughts. I still have nightmares. I’m not sure they’ll ever go away. My next breath is more difficult and the tears that trail down my cheeks are for a different reason.

“That’s beautiful,” she says.

“Thank you,” Park says for me because I can’t speak right now. He slides his thumb under my eye, trying to dry away the salty trail. I catch his hand and hug it to my chest.

***

Jess pops the lid on the paint can, his brows crinkling as he leans back to read the label. “It’s blue.”

“It’s sky blue,” I say.

“Lucy doesn’t want the baby to be surrounded by gender stereotyping,” Park explains.

“But…it’s blue,” Jessie repeats.

I sigh. “Sky blue. And her bedding’s pink. Just because she’s a girl doesn’t mean she needs everything pink.”

Park grins at me. “Damn straight. I want a tomboy. That way I don’t have to worry about kicking some kid’s ass that steps out of line. She’ll be able to do that on her own.”

“We should do a rainbow on one wall,” Bree says eagerly. “That way she can have a lot of color.” She folds her hands under her chin, bouncing on her toes. “Please? Can we? I’ll do all the work. Pretty please?”

I laugh, my palm resting against my belly. I look to Park and he shrugs. “Fine,” I agree. “But you’re in charge of it. I’m going to go read a book.”

“If you find Guy out there, tell him to get his ass in here and help,” Park says.

I open the door and look up, meeting Guy’s eyes. He raises his finger to his lips, shaking his head. “Yeah,” I call. “I’ll tell him.”

Holding up a box, Guy gestures me to follow him. “Donuts. I need some sugar before I’m put to work.” He hands me one as we settle onto the couch. “How’d Chase get out of this, anyway?”