A Missing Heart(18)

“I’m sorry for everything too,” I tell her, but if I refuse to say goodbye, this can’t be our goodbye. Which is why I don’t say another word to her as I leave her bedroom.

While I’m afraid it may be my biggest regret ever, being only seventeen, I have a long life left to spend every day hating this decision, but I refuse to say goodbye.





CHAPTER FIVE


“YOU TWO ARE all set to take Gavin home now. I suggest lots of rest, lukewarm baths, and cuddle time for the little guy,” the doctor says, running his finger down the length of Gavin’s tiny nose. “I’ve called in a prescription for him to your pharmacy, and it should be ready within the hour.”

“Thank you so much, Doctor,” I offer.

“Oh, and ibuprofen as directed on this printout.” He hands me a piece of paper with some instructions on how to care for a fever and an ear infection.

“Will he be okay?” Tori asks.

“It’s just an ear infection, Mrs. Cole. It’s very common in young children,” the doctor says with a questioning smile. It’s as if Tori hadn’t been listening to anything going on for the past hour, and I’m not sure I’d be surprised if that were the case because I’ve seen this look on her face before, like she’s thinking of a million different thoughts in the same exact second. She does it a lot, and I’m always wondering what’s going through her head, but more times than not, I never find out.

“What now?” she asks.

“Tori,” I groan. “God, we have to take him home and get his fever down.”

“Okay,” she says, sounding sheepish, childish.

I take the baby carrier with Gavin secured inside and walk back out into the ER waiting room where Hunter is still waiting. He’s staring off into the distance, and I hate that he’s been sitting here just thinking for the past three hours. That is not what he needs…in an emergency room, of all places—the place where his life basically ended the day Ellie died. When he sees us, he rushes from his seat and takes the carrier from my hands. “What’s going on? Is he okay?”

“Just an ear infection,” I tell him.

“Thank God.” With a sigh of relief, Hunter looks at his watch and back up at me. “I’m going to go get some more work done on that job. You go home and take care of Gavin. Charlotte and I can bring you guys some food tonight, and if you need anything else, just let me know—we can help you out.”

“Hunter, dammit,” Tori snaps. “You two don’t need to help us every time something happens. We appreciate it, but it’s not necessary. Everything is under control.” I don’t like where this is going. Hunter may be sensitive and caring but he has a very, very short fuse and lately, Tori has been testing it.

“You have everything under control. Okay, I get it.” Hunter replies. I know he’s biting his tongue, and I kind of hope he continues to do so because I’m not in the mood for this to escalate. “I’ll talk to you later.” Thankfully, Hunter ends the conversation and gives me a brotherly, knowing nod before heading out.

Tori and I slide into the car, which reeks of hair product and nail polish. Almost the moment the doors close, I feel constricted, like I can’t breathe. “You said you can’t do this,” I remind her. “Were you trying to tell me something?” Or is it just the whole…acting like a normal human being thing you can't do? I’ll keep my last thought to myself.

“I was trying to tell you that I don’t have the maternal instinct you want me to have or expect me to have. I don’t have the connections or feelings I should have for Gavin, and every day I wake up and hope those feelings have found me, but it continuously kills me to know they haven’t. I don’t know what is wrong with me or what’s missing, keeping me from loving him the way you do, but it makes me feel like a monster, AJ.”

Her statement is so clear and concise, it’s like a bullet to my chest. The words could tear the child’s heart out if he were old enough to understand, which I’m utterly thankful he’s not. While this truth is all I’ve wanted to hear since Gavin was born, it’s exactly what I’ve feared knowing. I read about this, though. This was in all the postpartum depression pamphlets I read. She could be helped if she’d open up to it.

“T, look, I know we’ve talked about this before and you shooed me off but I think you’re suffering with postpartum depression, babe. It’s honestly nothing to be ashamed of. I read it happens to a ton of new mothers. The docs can help you.”

Tori huffs loudly, as if she’s annoyed with my accusation, the same way she was annoyed the last time I brought it up. She pulls the visor down in front of her face and lifts the cover off the mirror to reapply a thin coat of lip gloss. “I’ve been seeing a therapist twice a week, AJ.”

“You have?” Why hasn’t she mentioned this to me? What is there to be ashamed about? I don’t get it.

“I don’t have postpartum.”

“Is your therapist an actual therapist?” I ask snidely, under my breath. At some point in the past three hours, we’ve gone from the couple who has never had an argument—thanks to my ability to sweep everything under the rug—to the couple who will probably never be civil again. At least that’s what the wrath of anger is making me feel right this second.