Baby Makes Three

“Who called Flynn?” I whispered.

“Well, when it all happened, Bradley called us after an ambulance had shown up. We met you here, at the hospital, and when they started taking your belongings off you, they handed your phone to us. Your mother went to work scrolling through to find your boss’s number, but along the way, she found that you had Flynn’s in your phone.”

“Bradley gave it to me,” I croaked.

“It’s good you remember that sweetie,” my mother cooed with tears in her voice.

“We figured if you had his number, maybe the two of you were at least kosher, so we called him,” my dad finished.

“And yes, I called your work and told them what was happening,” my mother took over. “They’ve given you the month off to recuperate and heal. Apparently, someone doesn’t like taking vacation time very often.”

“I enjoy what I do,” I snickered.

“Well, they said you have four weeks, and if you need more all you need to do is call.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I smiled. And I meant it. I guess my colleagues call me a workaholic for a reason, but the truth is I adore what I do. It’s never been work for me, just… life. Life enjoyed, and life lived, and life loved.

“Knock knock,” came a voice from the door.

“Flynn,” I smiled lightly.

“That’s what brings me to my other point,” I heard my mom sigh.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” I asked. I could hear the sadness and exasperation in her voice, and I was wondering how in the world she was going to take care of me. She had the farm, and my father wasn’t much help these days, and it seemed like I had a long road to recovery ahead of me. Right now, I had issues just lifting my own hands! How was she going to take care of me!?

“Settle that mind down, Chelsea. It’s alright.”

God, his voice could calm the raging sea inside of me with just a few simple words.

“Flynn and I talked, and he’s offered to take care of you. The doctor says you’ll be here for two or three more days, and then you can either go to a halfway house and recuperate, or you can be released into someone’s care.”

“Flynn…?” I asked. I panned my gaze over to him standing at the door, and I watched him unfurl his arms before he came and sat on the edge of my hospital bed. His large, strong hand descended lightly onto my leg, and when he began to rub it in an attempt to quell my fears, I felt myself melt into the warmth of his touch.

“I’ll come by as often as I can, but I just won’t be able to upkeep the farm and make sure you have everything you need.”

I could hear the tears in my mother’s eyes, and I lobbed my gaze over toward her. Tears were streaming down her face, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. So, I turned my hand over and locked my fingers with hers before I urged her to look at me.

“You are not an incompetent mother, Mom. You have responsibilities, and you trust Flynn. I think we all do, even after all these years.”

I felt his hand squeeze my leg, and it took every ounce of energy I had not to groan in comfort right there in the middle of the hospital room.

“I’ll come by every day,” my mother breathed.

“Ssshhhh… it’s alright,” I soothed. I pulled her close to me and felt her wrap her tired arms around me. Whoever suggested that Flynn take care of me was right, even without the responsibility of the farm, my mother’s energy went towards taking care of my father. She would’ve never had the energy and strength to juggle taking care of both of us.

“You’ll be just fine with me, Chelsea,” Flynn said lowly.

And a smile graced my chapped lips just as my mother began to pull away from the crook of my neck.

“I know,” I said. “I know.”

Chapter 11: Flynn

I knew Chelsea’s mother would’ve never been able to take care of her in the condition she was in. From what the doctor was telling us, Chelsea would have issues getting up to walk and cleaning herself for a while, which meant she wouldn’t be able to do things like cook and clean for herself. Her mom was inundated with responsibilities around her ranch and was still the prime caretaker of Barber, and it killed me to think about Chelsea not being taken care of in the way she needed to be.

When we had all this information, it was just before Chelsea had woken up, and when I suggested it to Mrs. August, she had thrown a fit. She accused me of calling her a terrible mother, and I had to hold her close and tell her that I meant absolutely none of that. I explained to her the sheer amount of time it would take to take care of Chelsea, even if she was sleeping a great deal because of her pain medication. Chelsea would have doctor’s appointments to get back and forth to, and she would need help in the shower as well as getting clothes on. Mrs. August was tough, but she was also older, and lugging around Barber whenever he needed help was more exertion than she could take some days.

And that was no secret to the community.