Page 43 of A Burning Rage

And my poor mom—she’s probably exhausted after taking care of so many kids today. I’m sure Bridget and Calum will spell her, and the others will, too. One thing about the McIntyre family is they all come together in times of need. You don’t have to ask for help—it simply arrives at your doorstep, often accompanied by a hot casserole dish.

Cooper walks into the room carrying a small overnight bag, which he sets on a large shelf beneath the window. He opens the bag and pulls out a small bottle of what looks like orange juice. “Here.” He hands me the chilled bottle. “Drink this. You need some calories.”

I twist off the cap and take a long sip. The cold, sweet-tart liquid feels good on my parched throat.

When I try to hand it back to him, he says, “Keep drinking.”

I do as he asks because I know he’s right. I can’t afford to get dehydrated. As I’m sipping the juice, he pulls out a packet of peanut butter crackers, one of my favorite snacks.

I stare at the food and sigh. I have zero appetite, and the thought of eating anything makes me feel queasy.

Cooper takes the juice bottle from me and opens the packet of crackers. “Beth, please eat these.”

Reluctantly, I pull one out of the package and take a bite. Not because I want to, but because of the tone of his voice. He sounds exhausted. He sounds like a man who’s barely holding on, and suddenly I feel ashamed for adding more worry onto his shoulders.

“Thank you,” I say. And then I take another bite and chew slowly before swallowing. The thought of eating makes me want to gag, but I know Cooper’s right. I have to keep my strength up, or I won’t be any good to Shane.

“I brought your breast pump. By the way, Sam just left for home. He’s going to take over child care duty and give Ingrid and Joe a break. Bridget is organizing a childcare schedule for the foreseeable future, so you don’t need to worry.”

Fresh tears spring to my eyes. “Please tell everyone I’m grateful for their support.”

“They know you are,” he says. “Your mom also packed a change of clothes for you and some toiletries. She said if you need anything else, just let her know and she’ll have someone bring it to you.”

When I’ve eaten three of the crackers, he takes the packet from me and hands me what’s left of my juice.

“Do you think he knows we’re here?” I gaze at my husband’s too-still body. I stare at him, hoping he’ll open his eyes and look at me. But that’s wishful thinking.

“Yeah. I think he does,” he says as he takes a seat in a guest chair over by the window.

Now that my belly is full, I find myself growing sleepy, unable to keep my eyes open.

“Get some sleep,” Cooper says. “I’ll wake you if there’s any change.”

* * *

I wake with a start when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, sugar,” Cooper says.

I sit upright and attempt to straighten my hair. “What is it?”

“It’s okay. Relax. They’re getting ready to move Shane to the ICU.”

“Intensive care? That’s a good sign, right?”

“His vitals have remained stable, so yeah, that’s a good sign. They’re still going to monitor him closely for a while until he’s out of the woods.”

Hospital employees come to wheel Shane’s bed to a new location. We follow them. Once they have him situated in his new room and hooked up to all the monitors, they leave.

It’s late, and normally I would have already nursed Ava by now before putting her in bed. My body has its own internal clock, and it knows. My breasts have grown heavy and full.

I stand up from my chair at Shane’s bedside and retrieve the breast pump from the overnight bag. “I need to pump.”

Cooper nods.

I slip into the room’s private bathroom and use the device to relieve the pressure in my breasts. It breaks my heart to pour the expressed milk down the sink, but I’m not set up to keep it sterile here. When I’m done, I return to my vigil at Shane’s bedside. I’m so tired I can hardly sit up. Carefully, I lean forward and rest my head on my arms, as close to Shane as I can get without actually touching him. Finally, unable to stand it, I lay one of my hands over his right hand and gently cradle it.

“I’m here, honey,” I murmur as I gently squeeze his hand. “I’m right here.”