Page 122 of I Knead You Tonight

“I—” he starts.

“No.”

“Drew—”

“I said no, Winston.”

I ignore his sorrowful stare and turn back to my son, giving him all my attention.

“Ah, Mrs. Woods. So sorry we have to meet in circumstances such as this, but I’m Doctor Farewell.”

“That’s a bit macabre,” I murmur.

The doctor cracks a smile. “Your husband said the same thing.”

My eyes fly to Winston, who’s standing there looking guilty for lying to the doctor.

I had to, he mouths.

“I’m sure he’s filled you in,” the doctor says, “but Riker is doing just fine. Luckily the drop wasn’t far, and he landed on carpet, or else we’d be looking at a completely different situation here. Mr. Woods was smart to bring him in as a precaution, but the bump is minor and he’s responding well to all tests, so there’s no need to be worried. I’d say you guys are good to go as soon as we get his exit paperwork filled out. Probably another thirty minutes and you’re free.”

I give him a small smile. “Thank you, Doctor. May I pick him up?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sure he’d love some mommy snuggles right about now.”

I lean into the crib, slowly easing Riker into my arms.

“Hey, angel.” I kiss his little red cheeks, trying not to look at the bump on his forehead because I’m afraid if I stare too long, I’ll break. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

I squeeze him close to me, and he coos, snuggling into my chest.

A sob breaks from my chest, because I know how lucky I am to be holding him right now.

The doctor clears his throat and steps toward Winston, nodding to his injured shoulder. “Please, Mr. Woods, I implore you, get that thing looked at as soon as possible for not only your sake, but your son’s. This could have ended a lot worse, and I’m sure you’d rather not risk it happening again.”

Winston dips his head. “I will. Thank you, sir.”

Dr. Farewell bids us good night and disappears as quickly as he came in, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, I turn to Winston.

“What inthe fuckhappened?” I seethe. “Where did he fall from? Did youdrophim, Winston?”

“No!” His face crumples. “Well, kind of, but not on purpose. I was getting him into his jammies, and he was holding on to my fingers, showing off how well he could stand. He bobbed forward and my shoulder just gave out under his weight. He rolled off the bed before I could catch him.”

I can just picture it, Riker rolling off, smacking into the floor.

My heart lurches at the scene in my mind, and I want to cry.

I want to cry for my child.

I want to cry because I wasn’t there.

I want to cry because I am so incredibly angry at Winston for being so irresponsible and allowing something like this to happen.

“Drew, I am so, so s—”

“Don’t,” I warn, holding Riker tighter. “Don’t you dare. You did this, Winston. You did this with your stupid pride, with your impatience, with your inability to grow the fuck up and just take responsibility. Because you were too goddamn childish to push through physical therapy after you were literally handed a second chance at life, now my son’s lying in a hospital bed with a bump the size of Texas on his head. We wouldn’t be here right now if you’d just done what you were supposed to do. This isyourfault.”

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