Play With Fire (The Men of Fire 1)

The need to wring her neck is strong, so very fucking strong.

I’m not a violent man. I would never raise my hand to a woman, but right now, I couldn’t trust myself around Jessa. My anger is at a level that I’m struggling to hold onto, and I’m ashamed to admit that I don't know if I could control myself around her.

I’m trying hard to understand her thought process, yet I can’t fathom what was going through her mind. How she could possibly do this to a baby she could feel growing inside of her and still be able to live with herself?

Dr. Ginsberg lists all the terrifying possibilities we are likely going to face over the coming weeks. And just when I think we're at the end of it, the list of complications keeps getting longer and longer.

This poor innocent baby has only been on this earth for a handful of hours, or maybe it’s been a day or two. Right now, I have no idea. The hours have all blurred into one, and already he has more obstacles to face than one would wish on their enemy, let alone a child belonging to them.

Zeke.

It was a name that Amelia and I had shortlisted as our own. But the moment we laid our eyes on him, still unable to hold him, we realized just how perfect that name was for him. Zeke: meaning God Will Strengthen.

Zeke was perfect.

I still secretly think Amelia is having a girl, so I had no problems agreeing to the name when she mentioned it. But it was even more perfect because it’s something that I did with her and not with any other woman, another bitter pill I'm struggling to swallow. Jessa has so far refused any contact with Zeke and wants absolutely nothing to do with him.

Not once has she held him, even when the nurses insisted that it would help calm him down. We thought if she were to hold him just once, it would kick start any maternal instinct she was lacking, but she refused.

Now I hear Jessa is refusing to leave her room or to allow the nurses to go in and help her express colostrum. They told her that Zeke would have a better chance of survival with the help of the antibodies in her breast milk, but she didn't care. I could feel the desperation rising. Begging wasn’t below me. Zeke needed her, and that means I needed her.

Even if breastfeeding isn't something that she wanted to do long term—something she has vehemently expressed on more than one occasion—how could she possibly deny this? Hasn’t she hurt him enough already? Considering what damage she has already done, one would think she would be jumping at the chance to redeem herself.

But not Jessa.

It was never going to happen, and it would only lead to heartache to try to push it anymore.

All I heard her complain about was that her boobs would never be the same again, that she would have saggy mom tits, that she was forced to have a cesarean, and that she now had a scar that had ruined her body.

Selfish fucking bitch.

So instead, Jessa banned me from her room. She had lost her shit in the most epic of proportions, and now it seems her only way to get back at me is to refuse to help Zeke.

The hospital quickly had security posted at her door, as every second that passes, she becomes even more unpredictable.

Amelia is on the warpath. She has become a momma bear out for blood. I’m so proud that she will be the mother my son will need in his life. But once I am done here, the first place that I’m heading is straight to Jessa’s room to have it out once and for all. This tantrum she is throwing is about to come to an end.

What she doesn't realize is that I met with my lawyer and a representative from social services earlier to discuss custody of Zeke. One thing that I’m certain of is that my son will not be leaving the hospital in her care. I’ve already instructed them to file for full custody. Even if Jessa changed her mind about relinquishing her rights to our son, she'd be allowed monitored visitation at best.

The papers that I hold in my hand will explain to her just how things are going to go from here on out.

That woman is about to see a side of me that she will regret she ever met, but she can only blame herself.

I underestimated her, taking it all as a grain of salt. Her behavior spiraled when she realized I was in a serious relationship, and I refused to play the game. But as I stand here listening as my son cries in pain, watching as his body shakes with uncontrollable tremors, unable to pick him up, hold him, and give him the comfort he needs, I know that I will fight until the end until he is safe.