Aced

I’M SWITCHING ACE FROM MY left side to my right side when the door swings open into the room. “Thanks for walking her out,” I say distractedly. When Colton says nothing back I look up and let out a little yelp at the man standing near the foot of the bed.

“I’m sorry. You scared me.” I do a double take and notice the blue scrubs, the top of a surgical cap covering his hair as he looks down at the clipboard in one hand and a pen poised to write with the other.

“Shift change paperwork check,” he mumbles, keeping his head down and even though I can’t see his face, I suddenly have an uneasy feeling begin to crawl over my skin that burns its way up my throat. “How’s that sweet little baby of yours?” His voice and the question cause the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.

Where are you, Colton? Did Sammy go with you?

“What do you need?” My voice is even and calm despite the alarm bells sounding in my head as I subtly try to look at his nametag that is flipped upside down.

“Now that you have him,” he says, lifting his head a little to indicate Ace resting against my breast, “could you imagine if you lost him?”

Discord vibrates within me at the extremely odd question and yet when I stare at him, he seems completely normal and focused on what he’s writing on the chart in his hand. I try to move Ace to cover my exposed breast, while I slowly inch my hand down toward the nurse call button. And of course it’s located on the bedrail right near where he is standing, so I try to be ever so discrete as uncertainty overtakes me.

“No. Never,” I finally answer.

“I lost everything. My wife. My kids. All by the hands of someone else,” he says, his voice hollow and even. I stare at him now, wanting him to lift his face from where he’s focused. I realize he’s scribbling furiously but hasn’t asked me a single question to take notes on.

My finger hovers over the call button, not wanting to make a scene, and yet my gut instinct is telling me something’s off here. My mom’s words flicker in my mind about how crazy a new mom can feel, and I wonder if that’s what is going on here: hormones surging and taking over my rational mind.

Ace must sense my discomfort because he starts crying. “I’m so sorry,” I finally respond, distracted, trying to watch what he’s doing while trying to tend to my son. “How horrible.”

“I thought it was only fair he knows how it feels. To feel vulnerable. To be exposed. To think he might lose it all. Jeopardize his happiness.”

I shake my head. That eddy of unease returns for one more whirl as I try to figure out what in the hell he’s talking about as Ace’s wails escalate in pitch. “I’m sorry. I’m not following you, and you’re making me uncomfortable. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my room.”

He looks up for the first time and meets me with crystalline blue eyes that hold a hint of humor oddly matching the slight smirk on his lips. “Of course. I just need your autograph on this form I have to turn in, and I’ll be out of your hair,” he says as he walks forward and places the manila folder on the table beside me. And as much as he makes me uncomfortable, I glance up one more time to look at him, trying to place why he looks familiar, but his head is already back down and focused on what he’s fumbling with in his pocket.

“Sure.” Anything. Just get the hell out of here. I set Ace down in the dip between my thighs as I grab the pen he hands me.

And then I open the folder.

My mouth drops open.

My mind is shocked.

My privacy invaded.

My little bubble popped.

Everything clicks all at the same time when I see the still photo of me from the video, spread-eagled, and every part of me unmistakable.

I look back up. His hair’s a little longer and there’s a goatee covering his facial scar that would have given him away instantly. But there is no doubt this is the man who has turned our world upside down in the past month.

Eddie Kimball.

I think I hear a click. I’m not sure. I force my eyes from his face to the phone he’s holding up and just before the flash goes off, I bend my body over, hiding my face and exposed breast and start screaming. My finger jabbing at the call button over and over as Ace’s cries rise with my burgeoning panic.

“Help!” I scream. Ace’s wails escalate. “Help!”

“Why so camera-shy now? Donavan stole everything from me. Revenge is a bitch.” He runs from the room just as the nurse comes through on the intercom.

“Everything okay, Mrs. Donavan?”

“Security!” I shout into the room. I pick Ace up and hold him tightly to my chest, rocking him as my body shakes, and my mind tries to process the fear that’s clouding my judgment.

The door flings open as my nurse runs in the same exact time as a loud crash is heard in the hallway followed by a fire alarm of some sort that shrieks through the hallway of the hospital wing. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes. We’re fine.” I keep rocking. “It’s okay,” I repeat to Ace over and over, as I try to reassure myself I am okay. But I’m not.

Far from it.

The nurse picks up the phone in the room and starts speaking words I don’t hear because my pulse is thundering in my ears. And the minute she lowers the phone the wailing alarm stops.

But the one in my head and heart screams even louder. I’m afraid it will never shut up now.

Fear like I’ve only known a few times in my life—the accidents that made me lose one man and almost another—owns my soul right now. We’re supposed to be safe. Supposed to be happy. And yet the man who has wreaked so much havoc in our lives just caused it to implode again.

“Tell me what happened,” the nurse says at the same time Colton comes barging into the room completely out of breath, his posture defensive, and eyes wild with fear as they scour over Ace and me to make sure we are okay.

“Rylee? They were shouting for security to the room.”

“Eddie.” It’s the only word I need to say for him to understand why I’m crying tears I didn’t even know were coursing down my cheeks, and holding Ace to me so tightly, that if it weren’t for his crying, I’d think I was smothering him.

“You’re okay?” he asks through gritted teeth. The muscle in his jaw pulses as he waits for my response. A quick nod of my head and he charges out of the room.

The old me would have yelled at him to come back. Tell him I need him more. Which is still partially true.

But I don’t say a word.

I. Am. Okay. For now.

Eddie Kimball just fucked with my son.

I hope my husband fucks with him.