I recline the seat by pressing the button on the side and sigh. It’s the only place I can sleep because I have to stay elevated. It’s either here or the basement where all of the hospital beds are, and I am not sleeping down in the dark, scary basement all by my damn self.
No.
And it’s freezing down there.
Am I afraid of the dark? Negative.
Do I tend to run out the door to throw the trash away at night and run back inside like a serial killer is out to get me?
Absolutely.
I’m only human.
“No, I haven’t taken my pill,” I grumble, knowing I’m about to get in trouble by the resident doctor.
Owen scoffs, laying his hand on his hips. “Heaven, you know you have to take your medicine so you don’t get an infection.”
I yank the blanket over me when I’m suddenly cold. “I’m not going to get an infection. Gosh, leave me alone. You don’t even know.” I sound like a teenager, but I don’t care. I want to nap.
Owen huffs, strides away, and I hear the fridge door opening then closing. I notice the twist of the plastic bottle cap tearing and the cabinet slamming. His plundering footsteps pound on the floor, and they wake Holland. She begins to fuss, whimpering and frowning, but she doesn’t scream at the top of her lungs like Holt does. Quinn is about to come out here. She always does. She can’t hear Holland cry since the place is soundproof, but she just knows.
It’s mama juju, and it freaks me the fuck out.
“Here, take this,” Owen drops a pill in my hand, then hands me a bottle of water. “Down it.”
“Owen,” I pout. “I don’t wanna.”
“I don’t care.”
I narrow my eyes at him, pop the pill in my mouth, then chug half the bottle down. Wow, that water tastes good. “Done.”
“Open.”
I scoff, thinking he is joking and laugh, but when he doesn’t move, my grin fades. “You can’t be serious. I’m not a child.”
“I wouldn’t have to treat you like a child if you would do what you’re told. Open.”
I open my mouth and put a little attitude in the movement. “There. Happy?”
“No. Lift your tongue.”
“Owen!”
“Heaven… don’t make me force your mouth open.”
“So dirty,” I snicker. “There are children present.” I lift my tongue as he peers in, then make a clicking noise. “See? Happy and healthy. Now, grab Holland before she wakes—” It’s too late.
Holt cries, screaming at the top of his lungs, pissed off that he had to wake up. Holland makes these cute whimpering whining noises. They are so different as children. I can’t wait until Holt is older so I can give him a hard time about how he cried more than his sister.
“Good.” Owen turns around, leans down, and cradles Holt in his overly large arms. Hell, I almost can’t see the baby because of Owen’s bicep being in the way. “You’re okay, shhh,” Owen croons, bouncing Holt in hopes he stops crying and Quinn doesn’t have to come out here.
She had two babies.
Two.
The least we can do is watch them for her while she rests and heals.
“Hand me Holland.”