Page 47 of Doctor Daddies

“What hurts, honey?” I ask him, smoothing his hair back from his face as gently as I can. It’s clammy with sweat, and I wonder how long he’s been awake. He seemed okay before he went to bed, but then, it’s been a long time since he last had a flare, and I should have expected that one would be on the way eventually.

“My stomach,” he groans, and I manage to pull him upright.

“Okay, baby, just try and straighten out,” I tell him—but he writhes away from me as soon as I move him, not even able to look at me.

I bite my lip, a lump leaping up into my throat. This is bad. Really bad. I need to get someone to see him, right now. No way can I just send him back to bed and hope for the best, not when he’s in this much pain.

“I’m going to get you a glass of water and your medication,” I tell him, rising to my feet. “You stay here, okay?”

He doesn’t even reply as I rush out of the room, my hands shaking as I root through the bathroom cabinet to find something that might help. We don’t have much here, not for an attack this bad, but if I can at least get some peppermint capsules down him, that will help him feel like he’s doing something to manage the pain.

I need to get him to the hospital. I could drive him myself, but with the state I’m in, I doubt that would be a good idea. I can already feel a panic attack threatening, and the last thing I want is to be behind the wheel when it kicks in.

No, I need help—and that’s exactly why the guys moved me here in the first place.

I fire off a text to Cole and Ross, telling them that Lewis is doing badly and I need help getting him to hospital, before I pour the glass of water and go back to check on my boy. He’s crumpled up again, and I hug him close as I ease him up once more, handing him the glass of water and bringing the pill to his lips.

“There you go, sweetheart,” I tell him. “You’re doing a great job. We’re going to get you somewhere you can get some help, okay?”

He nods, his jaw still clenched tight. There’s nothing that hurts more in the world than seeing your child in pain, especially knowing there’s so little you can do about it, but I have reached out to the guys and hopefully they won’t leave me waiting long.

Shit, if they’re even up right now. I wonder if I need to go to their apartments myself, see if I can get them up?—

But the thought has hardly even crossed my mind before I hear a banging on the door, and my head snaps up.

“Millie!”

Ross’s voice comes through the wood, and I get to my feet, rushing over to answer it as quickly as I can. I can feel the tips of my fingers prickling with worry, and the sooner we get on the road, as far as I’m concerned, the better.

“Oh, thank God,” I sigh as soon as I lay eyes on him. “I—thank you so much for coming. It’s Lewis, he’s having a bad attack, and I want to get him into hospital so they can get some fluids into him?—”

“Can he walk?” Ross asks, looking past me to search out my son. “Cole’s bringing the car around outside, and James’s going to meet us at the hospital.”

“You’re all going to be there?”

“Of course we are,” he replies, as though it should have been obvious. “Where is he? I’ll carry him down to the car.”

I lead him through to Lewis’s room, where my little boy is still sitting there in his pajamas. Ross, speaking quietly to him, reaches down to pull him into his arms, and my chest pangs seeing how tiny Lewis looks right now compared to Ross. He closes his eyes and rests his head against Ross’s shoulder, as we head for the elevator to meet Cole where he’s waiting for us downstairs.

Within a few minutes, I’m sitting in the back of the car, Lewis’s head pulled into my lap so he can try and get some rest, as I watch the city streak by outside. I can hardly take all of it in, the strange sights seeming alien through the lens of panic threatening to get the better of me at any moment.

Cole and Ross are in quiet conversation in front of me, and I can just about make out them talking about the possibility of getting Lewis set up with a specialist they know is on duty at this time of night. It’s hard to believe something like that could really be set up at such short notice, but honestly, right now, I will take whatever I can get.

We arrive at the hospital, where James is waiting outside for us, and he lifts his chin in greeting as Ross hitches Lewis into his arms once more and carries him out of the car.

“How is he?” James asks, and Ross shakes his head.

“Not good,” he replies. “He’s going to need fluids. And he’s cold, looks like he’s not retaining body heat well—maybe a blanket too. Were you able to speak to Johnson?”

“Yeah, he’s not around, but one of his trainees is,” James replies. “He told me that he trusts her to handle this, but we can call him if we need anything more to fix him up.”

I follow them inside, trying to keep up with the back-and-forth that’s going on over my head. They get Lewis into a wheelchair, and take him down to the ward at the far end of the hospital, what feels like endless corridors of fluorescent lights and blinding white around us before we finally reach the spot we’re looking for.

“Hi, I’m Mathilda,” a woman greets us with a sympathetic smile. “And this must be Lewis, right? How are you feeling, little guy?”

She tends to him as she asks me questions about his symptoms, listening carefully and nodding as she takes in each answer. It’s clear that she knows what she’s doing, and something of the fear and tension at the base of my stomach start to unwind, hearing her take control like this.

Cole lays a hand on the small of my back, and I jump slightly, a little surprised by his touch.