Page 2 of White Collar Rancher

“The doctor said that this type of meningitis can start that way,” Martin filled in. “And it can move fast. And Maisy’s so stubborn.”

Justin bobbed his head and rose enough to sit adjacent to them. “The baby?”

“Isaiah’s heartbeat was strong,” Katherine replied. “Priya thinks he has a good chance.”

“Isaiah?”

Katherine shot him a confused glance as tears coursed down her cheeks. “Isaiah. Your son.”

“I… I didn’t realize she’d chosen a name.”

“Isaiah Martin Jorgenson.” Katherine cleared her throat. “Of course she mentioned putting Walker on the birth certificate if you decided to propose.”

That was never going to happen.

His world darkened and guilt flooded in. That was never going to happen if she was dead. Maisy couldn’t die. She was the mother of his child. He hadn’t planned for one second to leave her to raise their kid by herself. Never would he have thought that he’d be alone.

She couldn’t leave him to raise a kid by himself. What did he know about babies? What did he know about raising a son whose mom had died giving birth to him? He’d been prepared for talks about why Daddy and Mommy weren’t together, maybe defending his right to co-parent if she tried to play her games with… Isaiah.

He tested out the name.

His heart pounded. This wasn’t his life. He’d moved back to Moore to slow down. Less world travel. Less drama after he’d fallen stupidly in love only to get his company stolen, his heart ripped out, and his body driven into Maisy’s waiting embrace. The move home was supposed to have stabilized his life, not upended it.

The door into the surgery unit opened. Priya’s normally warm brown eyes were destroyed. Her expression was stoic, but she vibrated with restrained emotion. The woman in front of him wanted so badly to break down, but she knew she couldn’t yet. She wore the same maroon scrubs as the guy downstairs, and her rich black hair was bundled into a bun on top of her head. Her thick, dark lashes only shadowed the depth of grief in her eyes.

The scrubs bothered him. Priya wasn’t a casual woman. She’d hadn’t been that way when they were kids, and during Maisy’s office visits, Priya always wore professional clothing underneath her pristine white lab coat.

Scrubs and athletic shoes. Funny how they cemented how serious this situation was.

Maisy was Priya’s best friend, though the last year and Maisy’s mental state had tested the bond. They weren’t close like they used to be. He’d gotten the impression that, like him, Priya was only committed to Maisy’s well-being during pregnancy and the baby’s health.

She met his gaze. Hers wavered like she wanted to look away. “Justin, your son is fine, but he’s being admitted to the NICU for a course of antibiotics.”

Her professional exterior fractured when she turned to the Jorgensons.

Katherine stood, pulling Martin up with her. “Isaiah’s sick?”

“He doesn’t appear to be,” Priya answered. “He’ll be monitored and have to stay admitted for the course of his antibiotics.” She swallowed hard. Her eyes brimmed with tears that spilled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. Maisy didn’t make it.”

Katherine collapsed into Martin’s arms. They both sank to the floor.

Numbness crept over Justin’s body. Maisy was gone. Just like that. She’d never see their son. She’d never rock him to sleep. And she wouldn’t be there to raise him.

A warm hand gripped his arm. Priya. She’d been a lifeline through this drama. An old friend from high school, the calm and collected doctor, the voice of reason that kept Maisy from ruining her own life as she meddled in his.

“Go in. The nurses will direct you where to go.” She glanced at Maisy’s parents. “I’ll bring them back when they’re ready.”

He should stay. But while these parents had just lost their child, there was a child who had yet to meet his own parent.

Justin passed through the door. Faceless, nameless people in scrubs directed him in his daze until he was in front of a large set of windows overlooking a few scary contraptions that resembled plastic cages. One was surrounded by staff. He could barely make out the wiggling baby inside.

Isaiah. Isaiah Martin to be exact. The Jorgensons had lost Maisy. Justin wasn’t going to change their grandson’s entire name. But Isaiah’s last name would be Walker now. It’d be easier, since he would be raising the boy. That’d been a conflict he’d been prepared to lose. Now it was a given. He felt no satisfaction at the victory.

A nurse popped out and walked him through the process of scrubbing in to go inside the NICU. Once he was soaped, rinsed, and dried, she led him inside. She rambled off details about how Isaiah should be able to stay in Moore since he was a healthy, full-term baby. If he were to get sick like Maisy, they’d transport him to a bigger hospital. But his boy had to go through a full round of treatment before he could go home. To Justin’s home.

Isaiah would stay with him.

Isaiah would stay. With him. Forever.

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