Heath picks up the birth certificate, folds it and shoves it into his back pocket. Why would he do that?

I try to ignore his act and address Mick. “I’m going home. Can you get me a ride back to my house?” I have a home just west of Philadelphia that I rarely spend any time at. My housekeeper, Peggy, is there more than I am.

He nods and leaves the room.

I grab a tee shirt from the floor and put it on, walking past Heath. I pat my back pocket to make sure my phone and wallet are still there and walk off the bus barefoot, steamy August air filling my lungs. I begin sweating immediately, and my shirt is already stuck to my back. A dozen or so police officers are waiting to board the bus, and I slide into the back of the black car parked in front it. Before the door closes, Heath is in the car with me.

“I’m not going to the hotel,” I remind him, annoyed.

“I know,” he says.

“I don’t remember inviting you to my house.”

“You didn’t,” he responds.

He looks out the window as we pull away from the concert venue. There is yellow tape spanning a large area around the bus, and people are gathering with their phones extended in the air, taking pictures of everything unfolding in front of them. There are girls screaming, and a few touch the window as we drive slowly through the crowd.

Heath takes out his phone and his thumbs fly over his keyboard. “I’m letting Dax and Tristan know what happened and where we’re going.”

“Do you expect me to have a fucking party back at my house?” I lash out at him and he huffs.

“I’m letting them know that we’re okay, asshole. Their bus is on the other side of the lot, and I’m sure they would want to know that it wasn’t one of us taken away in that ambulance.”

“Fine. But my house isn’t open for everyone. You’re not even invited.”

I slouch down in the seat and close my eyes. I want to burn the image of that birth certificate from my brain, but it’s all I see.

Kai David Armstrong-Moore

Fuck.

Sam

Present

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Age 23

“HEY,” CASSIE SAYS, pulling me out of my haze. I’ve been in a fog all morning, unable to shake the cobwebs from my head. I haven’t slept in what seems like days. This time of year is especially difficult. My parents’ birthdays are this week, and it’s an unwelcome reminder that they aren’t here with me.

I shake my head and force a smile. “Sorry, it’s been a rough week.”

Cassie knows all too well how hard it is on me. She’s dried my tears on more than one occasion. “I’m so glad you have your aunt. She’s awesome and can help in any situation.” Her words of encouragement do anything but that. They only remind me of everything I have lost.

“Aunt Peggy’s the best,” I respond, thankful that I have her support.

Cassie pulls me against her firmly and squeezes. “You’re amazing, Sam. You know that?” I let her pull me tighter. “I say this all of the time, but I’m so proud of you. You went to college, got a nursing degree and now you’re here, in one of the best neonatal intensive care units in the state. You did this all yourself.” She hugs me tighter and then releases me to look into my eyes. “And you brought me along for the ride.”

“I’m not doing it alone,” I say humbly. “I’m still living in my Aunt’s house.” My aunt took me in right after my parents were killed. She has a large home in Villanova and I have my own space there.

Aunt Peggy’s a personal assistant and housekeeper to some guy who moved to the area when I was in nursing school. I think she said he’s a musician or something like that. He’s barely ever home, and she basically takes care of everything while he’s away. She’s been doing this type of work her entire life. The last family she worked for moved out to California when their daughter landed a role in a television sitcom. She worked for them for almost twenty years, and they were devastated when she told them she couldn’t move with them. We argued about it, actually. She insisted that she stay with me, and I feel tremendous guilt over this. I wish she was able to go out to California; it would force me to finally do things for myself and on my own.

I wish I wasn’t her obligation. Her burden. I absolutely hate it. Which is exactly why I’m saving every dime that I earn, so I can get my own place and let Aunt Peggy finally live her own life, instead of feeling the need to take care of me.

“Well, you’re doing a fantastic job. Someday you’ll get to do this for a husband and kids.” Today, we’re wearing our pink teddy bear scrubs. Our unit coordinates our scrubs each day of the week, and today is pink teddy bears.

“Right,” I say sarcastically. “And don’t forget the little detail of a husband. Or lack thereof.”

“There are dozens of men patiently waiting for you to wake up and dive into the dating pool.”

“Dozens?” I say, raising my eyebrow and giving her my best smirk possible. “Now that’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

“You don’t even know how stunning you are, do you?”

I laugh heartily. “Seriously, these teddy bear scrubs are super hot. Step aside and let me break all of the hearts of the countless men waiting for me outside.” I giggle, laughing harder than I have in a long time. Cassie is kind and my best friend, but she’s seriously delusional. I haven’t been out with a guy in ages. I honestly can’t remember when someone has even shown interest in me. My last boyfriend broke up with me almost two years ago, when it became apparent to him that my career was an important part of my life. He wanted me to himself, all of the time. I was working nights and weekends and barely had time to sleep. I was exhausted. He was exhausting.

“Just wait, Sam. He’s out there, waiting. Ready to sweep you off your feet and give you the life you deserve.”

“You’re drunk,” I say to her. “What guy is out there, ready to fall in love with a hot mess of a nurse? I’ve got too much baggage, Cassie. It’ll never happen for me.”

“I promise you that it will. You’re too special to not have that kind of love in your life. You’ve got a great head on your shoulders, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, you’re a beautiful person.” She grabs my hand, pulling me toward the door of the on-call room. “Break is over. Dr. Hagan will be doing her rounds in a few minutes.” My adrenaline kicks in, and I realize we have a long, trying day ahead of us.

This week has been exceptionally difficult here at work. The neonatal intensive care unit is at capacity. The last baby admitted to our unit is a baby boy, born eleven weeks premature. He’s barely three pounds and it’s been touch and go for the past several days.

I hop on alternating feet as I cover my Dansko clogs with blue sterile booties. We take turns scrubbing our hands in the sink in the outer room of the NICU and slip into sterile gowns. The change of shift is always hectic, and we ask that the families vacate the room while we discuss with the doctors and nurses their medical updates. I see the young mother of the eleven-week-old preemie, Olivia, looking pale and drawn. She’s curled up in a chair next to her son’s incubator, her hand pressed up against the clear casing.

I nod toward her and raise my eyebrow to Becky, the overnight nurse. “Rough night?” I ask softly, not wanting Olivia to hear us.

“She won’t leave him. And for once, I can’t force her to. His neuro scans came back a little while ago and he has two brain bleeds. One is a grade two, but the other is grade three. Dr. Hagan wants to run a new scan in a few hours, but she’s very concerned. To top it off, his bradycardia episodes are getting worse and they are going to intubate him again.” Seeing babies with breathing tubes is very scary, but so vital for their long-term prognosis. Every time he stops breathing or his heart rate slows, he could be doing more damage to his organs and brain.