Rebirth (RAW Family 3)

His fiery statement didn’t scare me.

We weren’t running.

The villain in our fairytale had finally been vanquished, once and for all.

No. We were done with running.

Twitch pulled me into his side and pressed a soft kiss to my brow. I placed my hand on his chest and sighed deeply, lovingly, as we walked closer and closer to the glue that held us together.

Our son.

The silence came as a reprieve, and right then, I came to realize the only place we would run to in the future was each other’s arms.

Because we belonged together and nothing could keep us apart.

***

Twitch

It had been twenty-four hours.

I was officially freaking the fuck out. And as Lexi slept in the chair in the corner of the room, I lay by my son on the narrow hospital bed, observing the tubes coming out of his mouth and nose, wondering how I had managed to put the person I loved more than life itself into this position.

Guilt was a fairly new emotion for me. I didn’t love it; that was for sure.

I was desperate.

And so I begged.

“You gotta wake up, bud.” You gotta because I can’t live with the shame. “Just open your eyes.” Please. “Your mom needs you.” I need you. “Please, buddy.” I shut my eyes tightly and swallowed hard, as I whispered, “I’m so sorry, son.”

I cried silently so as not to wake her.

It was the least I could do in this shitstorm I formed.

***

Lexi

“What are you doing?” I asked as Doctor Prahesh moved around A.J.’s bedside and surveyed the respirator that was keeping my son alive.

He pressed buttons on the machine and stayed silent a while before responding. “I think it’s time to see how A.J. goes about breathing on his own.”

Twitch was suddenly not sleeping anymore. He sat up, blinking drowsily. “Say what now?”

“What?” My mind fizzled a moment before it completely blacked out. “You want to turn off the one thing keeping my son alive?” I couldn’t have scoffed even if I wanted to. I leaned into him, frowning, and seethed, “Over my dead body.”

“Doc.” Twitch frowned. “I get this is your job and all, but—nah.”

But Doctor Prahesh didn’t see the seriousness in this situation. Instead, he smiled kindly. “I know this is difficult for you both, but A.J.’s vitals have improved considerably. His color has returned. His fever has subsided. And now, I’d like to compare his breathing to when he first came in. But I can’t do that if we don’t take him off the respirator.”

Parents were supposed to know what to do in these situations. They were meant to be strong and have a plan and trust their doctors. But as Tony and I glanced at each other, we wore matching expressions of uncertainty, and his uncertainty fuelled my own to levels a parent should not have had.

Nobody spoke a while.

“Do it,” Twitch said, and my eyes widened in shock.

My mouth parted lightly. “What? No!”

Twitch shuffled to the edge of the seat. “Baby, they can’t keep him on it forever.” His expression softened, and I swear there was a distinct sadness in his eyes. “Got to let him fall so he can fly on his own.”

It was a beautiful sentiment spoken at the wrong time.

My throat tightened, and I whispered anxiously, “What if he doesn’t fly? What if he hits the ground?”

Twitch looked down at the ground, and as he did, he bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t respond a long moment, but when he lifted his head, he shrugged. “No better place to fall than right here, angel.”

“The longer he’s on the machine, the more of a chance he has of developing pneumonia,” Doctor Prahesh said. “It’s been thirty-six hours. With your permission, I’d really like to try to wean sooner rather than later.”

My heart was at war with my head.

My body cold, my eyes bleak, I paced the length of the room, placing my fingertips over my mouth and weighing up the possible outcomes. Out of the twelve possible outcomes my mind conjured, only one of them turned out happily.

I didn’t like those odds.

I hated those odds.

Running a hand through my hair, I paced some more until I stood right in front of Tony. My voice quivered as I blinked away tears, and rambled, “I usually know what to do in hard situations, and I don’t know what to do here, Twitch. What if he doesn’t want to breathe on his own? What if he was hurt worse than we thought? I can’t lose him, and right now—” My voice was little over a hush. “—we could lose him.”

Twitch reached out and took my fingers between his. He caressed them a second before I spotted the way his cheek ticked. “Don’t say that,” he spoke quietly but firmly. “He’s strong, raised by a solid mother with the genes of his stubborn-ass father.” He didn’t look at me, and I wondered if it was because he was worried I’d see his own fear splashed across those beautiful eyes. “He’s not going anywhere. He’s coming out of this, baby.”

My eyes swept over to the little boy who looked even smaller in the bright white sheets of his hospital bed. So many tubes coming out of him. I wasn’t ready to let go. And as Twitch squeezed my fingers between his, I realized that maybe I didn’t have to.

He was right.

I would have to let my baby bird fall if I wanted him to fly.

“Okay.” Swallowing past the knot in my throat, I said the words calmly, even though every part of my soul ached. “Do it.”

With a short nod, Doctor Prahesh left the room and returned with a nurse. They worked in tandem with the nurse at the machine as the Doc gently worked on detaching the tube from the breathing tube. “And,” he uttered as my heart stopped, “now we see what our little Antonio is capable of.”

He removed the tube and watched carefully as he put a stethoscope to my son’s chest. And his chest was the only thing I could focus on.

It wasn’t moving.

My voice shook. “He’s not breathing.”

Doctor Prahesh listened closely. “Give him a second.”

Completely terrified, my body went rigid, as I panted out, “He’s not breathing, Twitch.”

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We watched closely in complete shock and horror as our son lay lifeless on the bed.

Doctor Prahesh frowned. Seconds passed by and he looked at the nurse. I didn’t like the look that was exchanged.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

Neither of them spoke.

“What’s happening?” I croaked out in panic.

Doctor Prahesh removed the stethoscope from my son’s chest and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when Twitch shot up out of his chair. “There.”

I looked to where he was pointing.

He was pointing at A.J.

More specifically, at his chest.

“There,” he said, moving forward toward the narrow bed.

Doctor Prahesh placed the stethoscope back on A.J., but it didn’t matter.

I could see.

Oh my God.

I could see it moving.

Thank you, God.

He was breathing.

Doctor Prahesh smiled as he listened through the instrument. “That’s the way,” he spoke low, to himself, and his smile widened. “Nice and deep.”

A shocked laugh shot up out of my throat, and I fought to breathe through it. Twitch turned to face me, but he wasn’t smiling. He was still, an unbreakable tree lost in a fight against a fierce hurricane.

I needed him to bend.

I needed him to bend before he broke.

“Honey.” I took a step forward.

He didn’t respond.

“Honey.” I touched his arm, and he looked down at the spot I’d touched before resting his turbulent gaze on mine. I smiled and softened my voice. “He’s breathing.” I sniffled. My eyes blurred with unshed tears before I laughed out, “He’s breathing.”

“He’s breathing,” confirmed an ecstatic-looking Doctor Prahesh. “He’s off the ventilator and breathing on his own.” He twisted back to look at us. “That’s the best we could ask for.”

“Why—?” Twitch tried to speak but cut himself off. He tried again, slower this time, and the thick emotion I heard in his voice had me moving toward him, pressing myself into his side. “Why isn’t he awake?”

It was something I wanted to ask but had been too frightened to.