Hope for Her (Hope #1) (25 page)

Next message.

"Josh, where are you? Call me back. I'm starting to worry."

Next message.

"Josh, I'm getting scared that something happened to you. Call me, please."

She sounded more frantic with each message.

I hung up before listening to the last one.

I switched over to my text messages and started at the first one. I hoped it would give me a better idea of what happen.

When I drove back from Orlando, I texted my friend Jake in Gainesville.

Josh:  Hey Jake, I'm driving through Gainesville. You holding?

Minutes later he replied.

Jake: No, but pick me up. I know a guy.

Next message on my phone was from Jackson telling me to call him.

My phone offered no other clues. I tossed it on the seat next to me and pulled away from the curb. When I pulled up to the stop sign at the end of the block, I stopped. I had nowhere to go.

The frat house was off-limits, and I thought about heading on down to Orlando, but I wasn't sure what was left for me there either.

I had no options.

My phone buzzed on the seat, and I stared down at it, afraid to pick it up. I pictured the police on the other end and as soon as I answered, a swarm of cops would surround my car like in the movies, and it would be all over. The thought of it made me smile. Going out in a blaze of bullets was not a bad way to go.

I thought in the twisted center of my brain, that perhaps Carrington would call and check up on me. Maybe she needed to hear me say ‘I'm sorry’.

I was sorry.

I wanted her forgiveness, but I had no right to ask for it.

I chuckled and then let my head drop back on the headrest. My father was right. I was a pathetic loser.

I hurt my own child and the woman who carried him, proving I had no business being anyone's father. I would get caught and go to prison. I didn't think even Josh Elijah Griffin III and his millions could make this go away.

My son would know his father tried to kill him. As soon as the thought entered my head, I forgot how to breathe. I opened the window, but my heart rate increased and I sucked hard, forcing the oxygen into my lungs. I scrambled to open the door and fell out of the car gasping for air.

I started sweating, and a deep gut-wrenching sob started in my stomach and traveled up my throat. I covered my mouth to muffle the sound.

I stayed on the ground gasping for air for a few minutes. My body responded to my brain by telling it to calm down and get a grip.

I crawled back into the car, and I reached for my phone. I started dialing 911 when I realized the beep from a minute ago belong to a text message from Cade.

Cade: In town, at one hell of a party.

I caught my breath, climbed back in my car, and dialed as I pulled away from the curb.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Carrington Olivia Butler

After a restless night filled with nightmares, I welcomed the morning. I would get to see my son this morning, and my anxiety increased the longer it took for the doctor to arrive and clear me to get out of bed.

At one point last night, I dreamed Josh entered my room and stood by the door. He looked strange, wearing strange clothes, and his body glowed. We stared each other down. It reminded me of the day we met, and tears fell down my cheeks, but then Josh turned, opened the door, and left.

I fought to keep my eyes open. As they closed, I forced them open expecting to see Josh standing by the door again. I fell into a deep sleep and woke up to Dr. Autrey's voice.

"Good morning Carrington, how are you feeling?"

Dr. Autrey's chipper voice was a little too happy for my taste. His bedside manner pissed me off.

"Fine," I said, suppressing the urge to say more.

"Well, your little boy gained a quarter of a pound last night," he said as he read the chart.

"Is that good?"

"Yes, very good. You ready to go meet him, hopefully give him a name?"

"Yes."

The doctor took his sweet time examining my new incision. The two-inch long scar sat on my bikini line, closed with staples. When he finished examining me, the nurse cleaned and replaced the bandages and went to get me a wheelchair.

My abdomen hurt whenever I blinked, but I powered through the pain and transferred myself to the chair. The nurse pushed me down the corridor, and my heart beat increased the closer we got to the nursery.

"Now, your son is in an incubator which looks like a plastic box. He has a tube in his nose and an IV in his chest."

"Does he feel anything? Is he in pain?" I asked wiping the tears from my eyes. I didn't want to meet my son for the first time with tears running down my face.

"No, only when we are poking and prodding him. And believe me, he lets us know," the nurse said and laughed.

Why the hell is everyone so damn cheerful in this place?

When we turned the corner, the NICU glass door came into sight. When we came near the door, the nurse stopped.

"We will go into a little area for you to wash your hands, and I will give you some gloves and a gown you can put on over this one."

"I can touch him."

"Oh yeah," she said, "You can't hold him, but you can touch him and talk to him."

"Okay."

All scrubbed, sanitized, and ready to go, she wheeled me into the neonatal unit and over to my son.

The nurse lowered the incubator to my eye level. I thought I would freak out once I saw him, but peering through his glass canopy, I understood why everyone seemed so happy. Laying eyes on him for the first time, I clutched my chest and stifled a squeal. The love I felt for him hit me like a thunderbolt. It was overwhelming. I cried, but not because I was sad. He was adorable—little, but adorable. His brown skin, a little lighter than mine, appeared translucent, but not scary. He looked like a baby. He head was full of brownish blond hair, the only physical trait he shared with his father. I smiled; he had my eyes and my nose.

His eyes opened and darted around. The Vaseline over them made him look like an alien. The tube in his nose looked uncomfortable, but he seemed content. His little chest rose up and down at a steady beat, and he kicked his legs back and forth, dancing to the beat in his own head.

He lay on his back, his little legs moving and shaking. I laughed out loud.

His diaper took over his whole body. They didn't make too many products for babies his size.

"He kicks his diaper off all the time," the nurse said.

"It's so big on him," I said and smiled, so proud of my precious, energetic, and funny little guy.

The nurse opened the little porthole in front of me and reached in to adjust his diaper.

"You can touch him. He loves having his tummy rubbed," she said. This news kind of threw me, the idea she knew what my son liked before I did. I missed his first thirty-six hours. I wiped a tear away and told myself it wasn't my fault.

I reached in and touched his little leg. His skin was dry but soft. I held on to his leg, between my thumb and index finger. He kicked out of my grasp, so strong.

I rubbed little circles on his tummy and his legs calmed down.

"Hey, little guy. How are you? I'm your mommy. Well, I guess I need to give you a name," I said. I discarded the list created by Josh and I and thought about some of his rejections. Keanu crossed my mind, but the memory of our last few days together entered my mind, and it hurt too much.

I shook my head and concentrated on my little guy.

"Let's see. How about you tell me what name you like the best, okay?"

I touched his leg with my other hand and rubbed his foot.

"Michael." I got a little kick, but nothing major.

"Jaken." This time, no response.

I tried Ashton, Brandon, and Leonardo, but no response, not a twitch.

A name popped in my head, and I thought I'd give it a try.

"Okay. How about Jackson?" Before I finished the name, his little legs went crazy. "Jackson, you like Jackson." His legs continued to kick, and I laughed out loud, which made him kick harder.

"Okay, Jackson David Butler. I like it, too. "

He kicked and made a gurgling sound. It startled me, and I removed my hands. He settled down.

The nurse came back over to check on us.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yes. Jackson, say hello to the nurse who has been taken care of you."

"Well, hello Jackson," the nurse said. "It's nice to put a name with that adorable face."

Jackson David kicked one more time to let us know he liked the compliment.

We spent another hour getting to know each other before the nurse kicked me out. She said we both needed a nap, even though I wanted to stay and keep an eye on him. I wanted to take him back to my room with me, but the nurse said they were more equipped to react to problems in the neonatal unit.

When he gained two and three-quarters pounds, they would let him stay in my room and another pound more before they released him from the hospital.

When I returned to my room, I fell fast asleep for the next three hours. I awoke to the sound of my mother's voice; my parents and my brother all stood over me.

"Hey, sleepy head. You're finally awake," my dad said.

“Hey, when did you guys get here?"

"Last night, but you were out of it. We went to the hotel and got some sleep and came first thing this morning, and you were out."

My mom touched my hand, and my dad and brother stood by the door, not sure what to do.

"You guys, it's okay. I'm fine."

"You sure you're okay?" Dad asked.

"Yeah, sore and still a little foggy about what happened, but I'm okay."

"What about Josh? Where is he?" my brother asked.

"I don't know. No one here knows, but the police are coming to talk to me today. Have you seen Jackson?" 

"Yeah, through the window, he's so little," Mom said.

"He is, but he's strong. I got to touch him this morning. I grabbed his little leg, and he kicked it out of my hand." Talking about my son warmed my insides, and I allowed myself to think about his future. I pictured a lifetime of bragging on my little man.

"Where'd you come up with Jackson?" my brother asked.

"Jackson is a strong name. You can depend on a guy named Jackson."

"It doesn't have anything to do with the national championship MVP by the same name." My brother eyed me with a nod.

"Jackson is a friend. Besides, he saved our life."

"My nephew Jackson. I guess it has a nice ring to it."

I smiled at my brother.

"Plus, I needed a good name that would sound good with his middle name, Jackson David. I love the way the names sound together."

A grin spread across my father and my brother's face. Mom and I looked at each other and laughed.

"You gave him my name?" My dad walked over and rubbed my leg. "Jackson David Butler."

"Are you putting his name on the birth certificate?" Mom asked.

I shook my head no.

I rubbed my chest and bit my lip.

God, what am I going to tell Jackson about his father?

#

Two police officers in uniform walked into my hospital room an hour later. The older officer reached out to shake my hand and stared a little too long at the bruises on my arms. The other cop stood next to the door. He appeared younger but with bulging muscles and a perfected intimidating stance. Tall with brown hair and a distinct nose, he stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

The older officer introduced himself as Officer Thomas and took out a notebook and asked me a series of preliminary questions—name, age, address.

Then he asked about my relationship with Josh.

"Where did you two meet?"

"At school, we had a class together."

"How long did you date?"

"Eight months."

"What reason would he have to do something like this?" the officer by the door asked.

I didn't like his tone or his implication.

Was there a legitimate reason for Josh to beat the shit out of me and his unborn child?

"Stevens, why don't you take a walk, I got this?" the older officer told the young cop.

He glared at me and shook his head as he exited the room.

"I'm sorry about that," Officer Thomas said. "As you know, the Griffin family is quite well known in this part of Florida and are susceptible to false claims because of their money and status, but everyone also knows what a screw-up Josh is. This isn't his first charge of assault. The last one, the victim dropped the charges and somehow his education was paid for in full and a little something extra per month for incidentals."

I liked the sarcasm in Officer Thomas' voice.

"I don't want Mr. Griffin's money," I said. "And Josh needs to learn there are some things you can't buy your way out of."

"I agree and will do everything we can to find him and make sure he is punished for what he did to you."

I told the officer what I remembered from the assault and gave him more information about Josh's whereabouts over the last few days.

I wasn't much help, but the officer thanked me and said he would be in touch.

My mother and I suited up to spend time with Jack. As we oohed and awed over his every move, the nurse brought me paperwork to sign, including his birth certificate.

"Mother's full name," she asked.

"Carrington Olivia Butler."

"Date of birth?"

"December 8th, 1995."

"Father's full name."

The nurse looked up from her paperwork.

"Do I have to put the father's name?"

"No, you don't have to, but if you seek child support or any rights for your son from his father and his family, it will have to start by his name being on the birth certificate."

"I don't want anything from him or his family, ever," I said. The nurse filled out the rest of the paperwork. When she returned with the form for me to sign, I paused a second.

I wondered if Josh would want a relationship with his son. He never talked about his father, but I imagined he had some doubts about being a father given the shitty example he had.