Page 28 of Nolan

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Nolan

The sound pierces through my dreams like a siren,Ashlynn's cry, sharp and distressed, jolting me awake with my heart already racing. I fumble for the baby monitor, the digital clock on my nightstand reading 2:17 AM.

"Daddy." Her voice is ragged, broken by sobs that stab straight through me.

I'm on my feet before I'm fully conscious, stumbling down the hallway to her room. The nightlight casts just enough glow for me to see her thrashing in her bed, her face contorted with discomfort.

"Hey, princess, I'm here," I say, reaching for her. The moment my hands touch her skin, alarm shoots through me. She's burning up, her small body radiating heat like a furnace.

"It hurts, Daddy," she whimpers, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

I grab the thermometer from her nightstand, my hands shaking as I press it against her forehead. 104.3°F. Panic surges through me like an electric current.

"Okay, baby, it's okay. Daddy's going to make it better." My voice is steady, belying the fear churning in my gut as I reach for my phone. Too high. The fever is too damn high.

I dial 911, one arm still cradling Ashlynn against my chest as she continues to cry.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My daughter, she's three, she has a fever of over 104. She wasn't feeling well earlier, but now she's burning up and crying in pain." I rattle off our address, my free hand stroking Ashlynn's hair in a futile attempt to comfort her.

"An ambulance is on the way, sir. Try to keep her cool until they arrive."

I carry Ashlynn to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth with cool water and gently pressing it against her forehead, her cheeks, the back of her neck. Her eyes are glazed, unfocused, and the fear inside me threatens to explode into full-blown terror.

"It's okay, Ash. Help is coming. Daddy's right here." The words sound hollow, inadequate against the weight of her suffering.

Time stretches, elastic and torturous, until the distant wail of sirens cuts through the night. I wrap Ashlynn in a light blanket and rush to the front door, yanking it open as the ambulance pulls into our driveway, lights flashing in the darkness.

Two paramedics approach, calm and efficient, asking questions I answer on autopilot while they examine Ashlynn. Her temperature is now 104.7°F.

"We need to get her to the hospital," one of them says, and I nod, numb with fear.

They allow me to carry her to the ambulance, and I climb in after them, watching as they attach monitors to my daughter's tiny body. The doors close, and we're moving, sirens blaring through the silent streets.

Ashlynn's hand is small and hot in mine, her grip weak. I've never felt so helpless, so utterly terrified. In this moment, I'm acutely aware of how alone we are, just the two of us against the world. Except...

We're not alone. Not really.

Annabelle's face flashes in my mind, her gentle smile, the way she looks at Ashlynn with such genuine love. The way she's looked at me, when she thought I wasn't noticing.

I need her. The realization crashes over me like a wave. Not just as Ashlynn's nanny, but as... everything. The person I turn to when I'm drowning, when I need a lifeline.

With my free hand, I pull out my phone, typing quickly:

N: Ashlynn's fever spiked. In ambulance heading to Memorial Hospital. I know it's the middle of the night but please, if you can come... I can't do this alone. I need you here. We both do.

I hesitate, then add:

N: You're our family, Belle. The one who loves her almost as much as I do. The one I...

I delete that last part. Not now. Not like this. I send the message and return my attention to Ashlynn, whose eyes have drifted closed, her breathing shallow.

The paramedic notices my distress. "We're almost there. Try to stay calm for her sake."

I nod, but calm feels like a foreign concept right now. Everything I care about in this world is bundled in this small, fever-ridden body beside me. Everything except...

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