Page 139 of Finders Keepers

He places her carefully beside me on the narrow hospital bed and she immediately curls into my side, her small body finding the space between my arm and torso. I can feel her trembling against me.

“I was scared, Mama,” she whispers, and then the dam breaks. Soft sniffles turn into quiet sobs as she buries her face against my hospital gown.

I wrap my arm around her tiny frame, pulling her closer despite the pain that shoots through me. My own tears spill over, running hot down my cheeks.

“I know, baby. I was scared too,” I admit, my voice breaking. “But I’m okay now. We’re both okay.”

I stroke her hair in a soothing motion as she cries. Each of her tears feels like a knife in my heart. This is exactly what I’d tried to prevent, my daughter terrified, crying in a hospital room, her world shaken by violence she should be too young to understand.

My tears fall into her hair as I hold her, our bodies rising and falling with shared grief. Gavin stands nearby, his own eyes glossed over. Ms. Lucy dabs at her face with a tissue.

“I love you so much, Sophie,” I whisper against her hair. “So, so much.”

Her small fingers clutch at my hospital gown. “I love you too, Mama.”

I’m finally getting discharged after what feels like an eternity in the hospital. Nurse Sam, who’s become something of a friend during my stay, helps me into the wheelchair while Gavin gathers my belongings.

“Now remember what I said about those pain meds,” she says, wagging her finger playfully at me as she starts wheeling me down the corridor. “They’re not optional, Bailey. Even if you’re feeling okay.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I rasp out, even though talking still hurts a bit.

“And you,” she points at Gavin who’s walking beside us, “make sure she actually takes them. This one’s stubborn.”

He chuckles, adjusting the strap of my overnight bag on his shoulder. “Don’t I know it. Don’t worry, I’ll keep her in line.” He gives me a wink.

“I’m right here, you know,” I protest weakly, but I can’t help smiling. Their playful banter has been a bright spot during my recovery.

As we approach the hospital entrance, Sam leans down close to my ear. “You’ve got yourself a good one there,” she whispers, nodding toward Gavin.

I feel my cheeks warm as I glance up at him, who’s holding the door open for us. “I know,” I whisper back.

The morning air is crisp and cool against my skin as Sam wheels me toward the parked truck under the hospital’s entrance awning. I can see he’s already prepared it for me, there’s a soft pillow on the passenger seat and a blanket folded on the dash.

“Alright, transition time,” she announces. “Ready, sweetie?”

I nod, and between both of them, they help me stand from the wheelchair. My legs feel a bit shaky after spending the majority of my stay in bed, but their hands keep me stable. Gavin lifts me effortlessly into the passenger seat, careful not to jostle me too much.

“There we go,” Sam says, adjusting the pillow behind my back. “Now remember, if anything feels off, anything at all, you get yourself back here, okay?”

“I promise,” I say, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

“Thank you for everything, Sam.” Gavin adds.

She waves off his thanks with a smile. “Just doing my job. But you take care of yourself, Bailey. And you,” she turns to Gavin with a stern look that doesn’t quite hide her grin, “you better treat her like the queen she is.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gavin responds with a mock salute, making her laugh.

As we pull away from the hospital, I lean my head back against the pillow, watching the familiar streets pass by. Gavin reaches over and takes my hand.

“Sophie’s been helping Ms. Lucy bake all morning,” he says softly. “They wanted to make sure everything was perfect for when you got home.”

Home.

My heart swells at the thought of my little girl. These past three days have been the longest I’ve ever been away from her, and even though she was at the hospital every day, it hasn’t been the same. “How is she doing?” I quietly ask.

“She’s good.” He glances at me before returning his eyes to the road. “She’s been staying with Ms. Lucy.”

Tears prick at my eyes. “I can’t thank you enough. For everything.”

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