Good Girl Gone (The Reed Brothers 7)

Josh

The waiting room at the hospital is completely full when we get there. There are Reeds stacked everywhere. Pete and Reagan, Matt and Sky, Logan and Emily, and Paul and Friday are all there. Not to mention Peck’s family, the Zeroes, and her parents.

Pete, Sam’s twin, looks like he might shit his pants. He jumps to his feet. “Why do you think it’s taking so long?” He starts to pace.

Reagan reaches out a foot and kicks his leg as he paces in front of her. “She’s pushing a baby out of her vagina, Pete. It’s going to take a while.” She nods toward the lump of blankets in her own lap, and I can only imagine that their daughter is nestled in there stuck to a boob. “You remember what it was like, don’t you?”

“It didn’t take that long for you to push Kennedy out of your vagina.”

She rolls her eyes. “Stop talking about my vagina in front of people.”

He grins. “But it’s, like, magical.”

She growls at him. “If you ever want to touch my magical vagina again, you’ll stop talking about it.”

Matt clears his throat. “Pete might not remember Kennedy’s entrance into the world. If I’m not mistaken, he hyperventilated and passed out in the middle of the delivery room.”

Reagan laughs. “He woke up in time to cut the cord.”

“Not all of us can be pros at the having kids thing,” Pete grouses. “Matt has so many that he should get a star on the boulevard or a statue or something.” He narrows his eyes at Matt. “You figured out where those things are coming from yet?”

Matt grins at his wife. “Yep.”

She leans over and kisses him. Her phone goes off. “Speaking of which, Seth says your favorite kid won’t go to sleep.” She shows us a video of Matt’s newest screaming her head off.

“Oh, Gracie’s mad,” he says, talking like he’s speaking to a baby.

“Gracie is always mad,” Sky says with a laugh. “Hope she doesn’t wake Hoppy and Matty up, or Seth will have his hands full.”

I try to count up all the Reed kids in my head, but it’s hard. Matt and Sky have Seth, Mellie, Joey, Hoppy, Matty and Gracie. Their oldest three were adopted. Paul and Friday have Hayley and PJ, and she gave birth to Jacob and Tuesday, both of whom spend more time at Paul and Friday’s house than they do their own. Logan and Emily have just one and her name is Kit, but Emily is pregnant again. And Pete and Reagan have a little girl named Kennedy, named after a dead president, which I still don’t understand. And now Sam and Peck are about to have their first. No name yet, although I doubt I’d remember it if someone told me what it was at this point.

I roll myself to the window and look out. “You okay?” Paul asks quietly as he comes to sit in a chair beside me. I turn myself to face him.

“Great.”

He jerks his head toward Star, who is sitting with her sisters. “She looks like she’s better now.”

I nod. “She’s fine.”

“You know what happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then…” he says.

“It’s her story. Not mine.”

Paul smiles. “Fair enough.” He points to my neck. “You have lipstick right there.”

I lift my hand, about to swipe it off, but then I leave it. Paul reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a handkerchief. “Her dad is here,” he says quietly.

“So?”

“So, he punched Sam in the face over something that happened between him and Peck.”

“Oh.” I take the handkerchief and rub my neck. I don’t give it back to him, though. I know it’s silly, but I’m going to keep it. “You think he’d hit a guy in a wheelchair?” I ask. I’m kidding. But still…

“I think he’d run you over with a car if he felt like it was justified, chair or no chair.”

“I like people who don’t see the chair. So I’d be okay with that.”

“I think it’s okay to see our differences. And even appreciate them. But not to judge people based on them.”

I think about it a minute. He’s right. It’s fine to notice race, disabilities, hair color, eye color…and it’s wonderful to appreciate them all. There’s not a problem until people start to judge based on appearance.

The Reeds have never, ever treated me like I’m disabled. The day they hired me, they gave me a plunger and told me to go unstop a toilet. Then they gave me a broom, and told me to take the trash out when I finished the floor. Never once did they look at the chair and assume I couldn’t do something. Except for maybe reaching things on high shelves, and that’s acceptable. But their take on disabilities is not the norm.

“Did you kiss her?” Paul grins at me.

A grin tugs at my lips too. I shake my head.

He cups his hands around his mouth and whispers, “You going to?”

“She’s not my type.”

He snorts. “She has a vagina.”

“Are you guys talking about my vagina too?” Reagan yells out.

“No, we were talking about Pete’s,” Paul calls back. He gets up and goes to sit beside Friday. My phone goes off in my pocket.

Star: Were you talking about my vagina?

I grin and swipe a hand across my mouth.

Me: Not yet, but I’m willing. You should totally show it to me so I have some frame of reference.