Page 82 of Daddy Erik
She spent three weeks in the ICU and now she's on the general floor for another two weeks. The staff had to work fast and diligently at slowing down her milk production. The head doctor of the ICU floor was very concerned about her having Galactorrhea.
It wastouch and go for a while there, yet her body responded beautifully to the medicines. They also managed to balance her hormones once more, as that was astronomical. The staff were asking all sorts of questions, and poor Claire struggled to keep up. She struggled to stay awake for long periods of time at first, but she started to come around that in the past week.
The hospital roomfeels too small for what’s happening inside my chest. I haven’t slept, not really, not more than an hour or two at a time, not since the moment I carried her out of that hell.
I’ve watchedher for every second of it. The door opens softly, and Dr. Hawthorne steps in, a calm, middle-aged man with a voice made for steadying panicked souls. He’s been leading her medical team since the moment she arrived on this general floor.
He carries a tablet,and I can tell he looks worn out. But today… there’s something lighter on his face. “Mr. Halvorsen,” he says gently. “I have good news.”
My heart lurches. “Tell me.”
He gestures toward the hallway.“Let’s speak outside, just for a moment.” I follow him out, though my hands shake as if my body already knows what he’s about to say. The door shuts behind us.
Then the doctor begins.“Her readings overnight were the best we’ve seen since she was admitted.” It hits me like air after drowning. “Her lactation has slowed to a normal, manageable range. We administered a lactation suppressant safely over the last four days. It’s reducing ductal pressure without compromising her health. Her breasts will likely stay full for an extended while, but the pain should continue decreasing.” I exhale, eyes burning.
He continues,flipping through labs. “Her hormone levels are stabilizing. Cortisol is down. Prolactin is dropping into safe numbers. Her adrenal function is recovering beautifully. No organ damage. No long-term renal stress.” He pauses. “And she’s staying awake longer. Her body finally has enough strength to rise.” My vision blurs even more. Damn tears.
“Erik?”
I drag in a breath.“I’m listening.”
“One more thing.”He softens his tone. “When she wakes… she may be emotional. She may not understand how much time has passed. Be patient with her. Let her come back in her time.” My throat closes.
"I'll be morethan patient for her. I will wait however long she needs.”
The doctor placesa hand on my shoulder, a gesture meant for reassurance, but it barely touches the storm inside me. “She’s lucky to have you.”
I nod,then I go back into her room, thinking,‘No, Doc, it’s me that’s lucky to have her.'
CLAIRE
Everything feelslike I’m floating through water. A beeping sound pulses gently somewhere near my ear. My eyelids flutter open. The ceiling is white. My head turns on instinct. The pillow crinkles. I try to sit up, but a warm hand catches my shoulder.
“Easy little one.”That voice. That voice tears apart something deep within me. I blink hard until the shape in front of me becomes real.
Erik.He looks wrecked. Beard thicker. Eyes red-rimmed and sleepless. Shoulders tense like he’s been holding up the world for too long. He sinks into the chair beside my bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands trembling.
“Hi, sweetheart,”he breathes out.
My throat burns instantly. “Erik…”
His jaw locks,like he’s trying to keep emotion from swallowing him whole. “I’m here.” His voice cracks. “I’m right here.”
A sob ripsout of me without permission. Everything hits at once, the cold metal table, the pumping, the shakes, the restraints, the voices calling me"little cow,"the endless sedation, and the belief that he’d never find me. The flood pours out of my eyes.
“Hey… hey…”He moves carefully, palms open, like approaching something fragile. “Sweetheart, you’re safe now. Safe with me.”
I reachfor him before I can think. He gathers me instantly, cradling me carefully against his chest, mindful of every bruise, every sensitive place, every inch of me that was hurt or handled wrong. My face is buried in his shirt; he smells like home.
“I thought I—”My voice breaks.
“I know,”he whispers into my hair. “I know you did.” His arms tighten, fierce and trembling. “But I never stopped looking. Not for one second.”
I pull back enoughto see him. His eyes shine. His cheeks are wet. This man, this stoic, powerful, unbreakable man, is crying for me. “Erik…”
He cupsmy face with both hands, thumbs brushing away tears that won’t stop falling.
“You survived,”he says hoarsely. “My girl survived.”
