Page 79 of Worthy of Sunsets and Second Chances

Rem: How’s she doing?

After I blazed out of the station and we talked to the doctor, I had called Rem and filled him in so he could tell the crew and Chief. They were all worried and of course praying that Wren would be home soon.

I take a picture of Wren and send it to him.

Eli: She is my little fighter. Sleeping now, getting the full treatment. IV going, oxygen, nasal feeding tube, meds.

Rem: Shit, what can we do?

Rem: She looks so tiny . . .

Eli: She IS so tiny.

Eli: Thanks for covering me there, and tell everyone else too.

Rem: You are right where you’re supposed to be, brother.

I don’t know what I’d do without my firehouse family. They ground me and lift me up all at the same time. We all step up for each other without question, but being thrown into fatherhood without them having my back would not be the same.

Kendra is now essential to my life now as well, more than anyone else. She is my pulse, my oxygen, my sun. Not having her here with me right now makes me feel a dull ache in my chest that won’t go away no matter what I do, and it started the moment she walked out the door a few hours ago. I understand the stupid fucking rule, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I watch the hands on the clock tick closer to eight in the morning with deep impatience. Wren is fussy, uncomfortable, and I can’t get her to settle. A nurse just came in to check on her and said the doctor would be in for rounds soon.

“Shhh, shhhh, sssshhhh, peanut. Dada is here, it’s alright.” I sway Wren. I change her positioning, burp her, check her diaper, snuggle her back in the blanket Kendra packed, try and give her the bunny she loves, and in a final act of desperation, I strip off my shirt and her pajamas and do skin-to-skin contact.

It reminds me of the very first time I had to bring her to this same hospital . . . when they confirmed that she was mine. Now I can’t imagine any other possibility. My life was totally turned on its head that day, but in the past few months I have become the version of myself I thought belonged to other people, not men that came from brokenness like me. Wren changed everything. Then Kendra came back into my life and now the things that I was running from are right at the tips of my fingers.

Family. A home. A future. I want the whole thing with her.

“Good morning.” Kendra’s soft voice interrupts my thoughts of her from the doorway. She looks like a dream bathed in the fresh sunlight from the windows still pouring into the room, illuminating her pink-streaked hair and stormy, tired eyes. The tight black leggings she has on sculpt her legs perfectly, and she paired it with . . . one of my old FGFD crewneck sweatshirts that has the possessive fucking leprechaun that has taken up residence in my mind when it comes to her doing damn backflips across my brain and heart.

“Get in here,” I say a bit too rough. “I missed you so much.”

Kendra beelines her way to me and Wren, who’s still fussy against my bare chest, which our new visitor is taking her time appreciating.

“I missed you too,” Kendra admits, biting her bottom lip. “Really didn’t sleep, I was too worried about Wren—and you.”

Bending down carefully, I kiss her tenderly. “Now we are all back together. You can rest here. We’ll take turns, alright?” She nods, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Wren’s little back.

As if she knows part of her world just came back into the room, Wren shifts her attention to Kendra and reaches out to her, wanting to be in her arms, her comfort. I see an almost shocked wave of fear wash over Kendra before she snaps her mask back into place.

“Hello, peanut. Come here.” Kendra takes Wren into her arms with ease, and all the fussing and discontent that was happening for that past couple of hours melts away.

Kendra and Wren both close their eyes, and I watch them settle into each other’s touch. Two puzzle pieces clicking together. They are a comfort to each other. Wren needed Kendra and she couldn’t have her, because legally she is not Wren’s mother . . . but I don’t think Wren knows the difference, and I think this is what Kendra was worried about. But watching the two of them right now, it all falls into place—we were meant to be a family. We are a family.

For four days it was the same routine.

Kendra stayed the entire day until visiting hours were over. She helped me with Wren; we were a team in every possible way. Our focus was on our girl and how to comfort her and make her as happy as we could. A well-oiled machine of amazing doctors and caring nurses came in and out of the room day and night.

The worst part of every single day was when the clock struck eight p.m. and Kendra had to go, leaving me to endure twelve long hours without her. It isn’t that I couldn’t handle caring for Wren by myself, I just liked it better when Kendra and I could do it together. Plus there were many times that Wren didn’t want me, only Kendra. I couldn’t explain to a baby why Kendra wasn’t there in the middle of the night all of a sudden when every other night at my house she was.

“I am confident that you can take little Miss Wren home today. She is doing great, vitals are amazing, oxygen levels are perfect, lungs sound nearly clear,” Dr. Greene says flipping through the chart in her hands, her long dark hair up in a high bun today, red glasses perched at the tip of her pert nose.

“Almost clear?” Kendra asks with concern, hugging Wren tighter to her chest.

“Yes, she will still be recovering a while and can have lingering symptoms for a couple of weeks, however I think we are out of the woods for the worst of it. Of course if Wren has a relapse or you have any concerns bring her back. And you will have your follow-ups with her pediatrician as well.” Dr. Greene smiles at Wren, who’s much happier and more herself today, bright blue eyes alert, taking in the room and all the people watching her.

“Thank you so much,” I say sincerely.