Officially Over It (SWAT Generation 2.0 10)

“While you’re at it,” she said, “why don’t you go ahead and have a DNA test performed by someone that’s not fucking you. The kid isn’t yours, Nathan.”

That was a weak attempt at trying to get him to give up.

But she should’ve known Nathan better than that.

Nathan liked a challenge.

And, more than anything, Nathan valued family, which was likely why he’d backed out of wanting to help Eerie once he was able to think about it more clearly—and when she hadn’t manipulated him at a young age because she was sick.

He would’ve always wanted to be a part of his son’s life.

The really scary part was that had Dare not ended up in this particular NICU, would we have ever known that Nathan had a child running around outside our lives?

The answer was pretty scary—probably not.

A monitor started to go off on one of my babies, so I gave Nathan a ‘keep her in line’ check and started walking toward the far wall where little Miss Anna Gray had hopefully kicked off her pulse ox monitor and not anything too scary.

Luckily that was the case, and as I fixed the monitor, I gave a wan smile at the Grays.

“This girl is getting feisty,” I said to the mom and the dad. “Not much longer now for sure.”

“That’s our hope,” Mrs. Gray said, looking over at the scene behind me.

It wasn’t Eerie, who was still being loud, that they were looking at. It was the baby that had just passed away and his family, as well as Dr. D.

“My heart aches for them,” Mr. Gray whispered.

I touched his shoulder and he looked at me.

“Focus on what you have in front of you,” I suggested. “It’s scary when we lose one, but you can’t let that fear control you. Let Anna do the work and support her. Because she’s almost there, Mr. G. She’s almost there.”

Making my rounds through my other patients, I met up with Sierra in the middle of the room, followed shortly by Peyton.

Just as we met up, Nathan made his way over.

He looked at me with anger still simmering in his eyes.

“I’m going to go ahead and go,” he said. “I have to go to a SWAT training session anyway. I’ll just go a little early.” He looked over at Eerie who was glaring at us all over the top of the incubator. “She won’t willingly allow breast milk. But if you think it’s best, I’ll let my lawyer know, and hopefully we can get it done. I’m not sure the protocol on what’s to be done when parents disagree on a child’s care.”

“The baby will likely be issued a lawyer,” Peyton said. “If he hasn’t been already?”

Nathan’s face lit up. “He has. They informed me of that a few hours ago. The lawyer is in the best interest of the child. He’ll be able to make decisions for him.”

“Then talk to your lawyer, talk to the judge, and go from there,” Peyton suggested. “And believe it or not, you’re not the first to come in here disagreeing with the other parent. And you won’t be the last. I’ve seen some sketchy stuff. Though, yours is right on up there with the other crazy ones.”

Nathan’s smile lifted at that.

“Umm,” I heard someone say beside me. “Nathan?”

I looked over to see one of the crying men from earlier staring at me with deep, sorrow filled eyes.

“Yes?” Nathan asked warily. I could practically see the war within himself. He wondered if he should reach out and pull the poor guy into his arms.

“I…” He swallowed. “We have a woman that’s donating her milk to us. Or was.” He looked over at the man holding his child. “The hospital has a stock of it that we’ll no longer need. And we can give you the woman’s name and number. In fact, I think that you might know who we’re getting it from. Linc James, the ex-football player? His wife works at this hospital, too. She’s got a ten-month-old. She started donating to us as soon as we had our baby.”

My stomach absolutely sank. One second it was where it was supposed to be, and the next it was down around my knees as I stared in horror.

“Oh,” Nathan said, looking uncertain. “Are you sure? I… I don’t know… man, that would be great.”

Then, surprising us all, Nathan leaned forward and wrapped the man in his arms.

My big, badass, who doesn’t hug anyone, barely even me, had reached forward and willingly taken that poor man in his arms.

Then the man broke down and cried. “We named him after the type of moon that was in the sky the day he was born.”

I swear to God.

I could count on my fingers the times that I’d seen Nathan cry.

One time, I’d dared Nathan to pull a nose hair when he was fifteen. He’d done it and had promptly cried.