Page 56 of Claimed By the Cowboys

“You should stay here with Elijah.”

I begin to dress Naomi again as worry makes my fingers tremble. She struggles in her sleepy state, but I persevere.

“I think I should come.”

I turn to find her expression set. “Okay. Get Elijah up. Bring a blanket for him.”

Naomi groans and my heart races. I glance down at my clothes: a ratty T-shirt and stretched-out sweats. My hair has fuzzy edges. I’m a disaster, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting Naomi in front of a doctor.

I lift her, struggling under her weight, pressing a soft kiss to her hot cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ve got you. Everything's going to be okay.” The responsibility I feel toward her is magnified by the fact that she isn’t mine. Jasmine was an awesome mother, and living in her shadow is hard.

I manage to get Naomi to the car and strap her into the back. Mom appears with a sleepy Elijah who’s chattering excitedly about this nighttime outing. I duck back inside for my bag and keys, then we’re on our way.

The drive seems endless. Naomi is restless in the back, making small, pained sounds. I try to keep my voice calm for Elijah while every maternal instinct I have is screaming.

We’re almost at the hospital entrance when Naomi’s body suddenly stiffens. Her arms and legs jerk hard.

“No—no, no—”

I slam the car into park and scramble out, hands shaking as I try to unbuckle her. She’s seizing, and I can’t get a good hold. Panic floods my chest so fast I can barely breathe.

“Help!” I shout toward the entrance. “Somebody help me!”

A familiar voice says my name.

I spin around.

Bo is standing a few feet away with his eyes locked on me and the scene in the back seat. For a split second, every protective wall I’ve built this past few days rises. I want to tell him to leave me alone, that I don’t need him, that he has no right to be here after everything.

But I can’t manage it.

I can’t manage anything right now.

Everything’s too hard.

In one smooth motion, he reaches past me, gathers Naomi carefully into his arms, and strides toward the automatic doors. I run after him with Mama and Elijah close behind.

Nurses appear immediately. Bo lays Naomi on a gurney with infinite care, supporting her head with big hands that are so gentle, my throat closes. He looks solid and calm in the middle of chaos: broad shoulders filling out his flannel, dark blond hair a little disheveled, and those stormy blue-gray eyes focused only on my little girl, like nothing else in the world matters.

I rattle off her temperature, the medication we’ve already given, how long the seizure lasted. Words tumble out of me in a professional rush even while tears stream down my face.

Mama stands nearby with Elijah, looking lost and frightened. The fluorescent lights are too bright. The hallway smells of antiseptic and sickness that reminds me of death. We’ve suffered too much grief already. This is all a big mess, and I can’t stop crying.

Bo steps close and draws me against his chest, with one solid arm around my shoulders.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says quietly. “They’re going to take care of her.”

I shove at him hard, pushing myself free.

“No, it’s not,” I choke out. “It’s not going to be okay.”

The words come out broken, furious, and terrified all at once. I stand there shaking under the harsh hospital lights, tears dripping off my chin, while the man I thought had already moved on looks at me like I’m the only person in the world who matters.

And I have no idea how to survive the next five minutes, let alone whatever comes after.

All I know is that I need this man gone, from my heart and my vicinity.

Chapter 29