He says nothing. He just holds onto his son. There’s a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before. I dial an ambulance, and a lady answers.
“What’s your emergency?”
“We’ve got a baby,” I say quickly. “He’s got a fever, he was screaming but now . . . his breathing is really shallow.”
“We’re on our way. What’s your address?”
She goes over some things with me quickly, but assures me the ambulance is five minutes’ away. I turn back to Mack, and he’s staring at me still, fear in his features.
“He gonna die, Lah?” he whispers.
Holy shit.
“No, honey,” I soothe, curling my fingers around his bicep.
“If he dies . . .”
“Mack,” I say softly. “We’re going to get him help.”
“I fucked up.”
I squeeze his arm and stare down at Diesel. It’s alarming that he’s stopped screaming. It’s even more alarming that his breathing has gone from deep, to jerky. His little back is rising and falling rapidly, too rapidly. I swallow away my tears and place a hand over Mack’s, and both our hands rest on Diesel’s back.
Five minutes later the ambulance arrives.
They take Diesel from Mack, and he’s smart enough to give him over. They start shouting things and pressing devices to Diesel’s tiny body. I clench my jaw, fighting my tears as they turn to us. “Who wants to ride with him?”
“Mack,” I whisper.
“Jaylah,” he says, but I don’t let him argue.
“He’s your son,” I say. “Go.”
He stares at me, then his fingers go out and trail down my cheekbone before he gets in the ambulance and leaves. The moment they’re gone, I run to my car and get in.
The entire way to the hospital I cry, because I’m terrified about what is happening. If something happens to Diesel, I’ll never . . . I’ll never be the same. That baby has become a part of me, and letting him go is something I’m not willing to do.
I ring Santana on the way. She needs to know.
“Jaylah,” she answers happily.
“Santana.”
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“Diesel is sick, really sick. We’re taking him to the hospital. I just wanted you to know.”
“Oh no,” she breathes. “We’ll be there soon.”
I hang up without another word.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I run through the doors of the hospital, demanding to know where Mack is. A nurse quickly shows me the way and I see him standing outside of Emergency, his arms crossed, his head down. I run towards him and he lifts his head when I near closer.
“Diesel?” I ask.
“Checkin’ him out now.”
My chest seizes, and I feel as if I’m going to stop breathing at any moment. I reach out and take Mack’s hand, but he jerks it away softly. It burns, but I say nothing. It’s not the time, nor the place. We stand there together, silently, saying nothing until Santana, Ash, Maddox and Krypt come in.
Santana rushes over and I let go of Mack’s hand. She throws herself into his arms and he holds her, really holds her. My chest seizes and I look away. Of course he holds her; I’m the reason his baby is in the hospital. Why would he want me anywhere near him? Santana gives him comfort while Ash takes my hand. I jerk at her touch, but I don’t pull away. I just stare at the floor.
A moment later, the doctor comes out.
“Who is responsible for this baby?” he asks.
Mack nods, letting Santana go. “I am, and her.”
I nod weakly.
“His temperature is alarmingly high, and it would appear he’s got an infection in his left ear as well as in his chest. Have you noticed any coughing, struggling to feed?”
My knees shake. This is why I should have never been a nanny. It’s not just about feeding, and changing, and taking care of a child, it’s about knowing if they’re sick, and being able to make sure it doesn’t get worse.
“He was coughing mildly,” I whisper. “A few nights at most. It seemed to settle after a feed . . . I didn’t know . . . I didn’t realize.”
The doctor reaches out, giving me a soothing pat to my shoulder. “It’s not your fault. With babies it can be hard to tell. The milk would have soothed his chest and throat, so therefore it would have stopped with feeding.”
I’m a horrible person.
“What about his ear?” he continues. “Was he pulling it?”
“Only this morning, probably a few hours before I brought him here.”
“Has he been restless?”
He had been restless for a few nights. Another reason this wasn’t the job for me.
“Yes.”
“Listen, he’s going to be okay. He’s on a drip with something to treat the infection and make sure he’s hydrated. With babies his size, that’s the most important thing. He’ll need to stay a night, but you’re both welcome to stay.”
“This is my fault, isn’t it?” I croak.
The doctor shakes his head. “No, babies get sick all the time. It’s part of being a parent. He’s ready to be seen.”
The doctor leaves, but I stare at his retreating form.
“I’m not a nanny,” I whisper to no one in particular.
“Honey,” Ash begins.
“I’m not a nanny, and because of that, I missed the signs.”