“No, Mr. Beckett, that’s not true. With an aneurysm, it’s fast. Those in the brain are more often than not fatal. There’s nothing anyone could have done.”
I slump forward, my face in my hands. She’s gone. My son will never know his mother. He won’t get to see that love in her eyes that she had for him. He will never get to see that he is all she ever wanted. He will never get to experience the childhood that I did, with both parents loving and supporting him.
How am I going to do this without her?
What do I know about raising a baby? I was hoping she would guide me. She was awake, and we were going to work it all out. We were going to figure this out. Now she’s gone.
“Mr. Beckett, I’m so sorry for your loss,” the doctor says again before leaving the room.
I feel a strong hand on my shoulder, Tyler giving his silent support. How did things go from bad to good to terrible in a matter of minutes?
“Ridge,” Reagan says hesitantly.
I keep my head buried in my hands until I hear his cry.
My son.
Looking up, I see Reagan trying to soothe him.
“He’s crying, and I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know how to take care of him. She was supposed to wake up and guide me through this. How am I going to take care of a baby? I don’t know what to do.”
Reagan bounces him in her arms. “You are going to be the best damn father that any kid has ever had. You are not alone in this, Ridge. You have me, Mom and Dad, the guys. You are not alone. He needs you. You are his father.”
“What if I can’t do it?” Fuck, I know I sound like a whiny ass right now, but my fear trumps the fucks I don’t have to give at this point. “What happens when I screw it all up?”
“Are you giving up, Beckett?” Tyler asks. “That’s not you, man. He’s your flesh and blood. He’s a part of you. You man the fuck up and be what he needs. Learn along the way. You think you’re the first person to do this on their own?”
“You’re going to make mistakes, Ridge. That’s life. But you will learn from them and move forward. It’s going to be hard, but you have a huge support system and we’re ready to rally around you and this little guy.”
A nurse steps into the room. “It’s time for him to eat.”
I nod, stand and take him from Reagan before settling back into the chair. The nurse hands me his bottle, and I place it next to his lips. He latches on immediately, gulping it down. No one says a word as we all watch him eat. I see that he’s eaten about an ounce, so I pull the bottle from his lips and place him on my shoulder to burp him. He does so quickly, and I repeat the steps.
“You’re good with him,” Reagan comments.
“They taught me earlier today.”
“And look at you now, you’re an old pro. It’s all going to be a learning curve, Ridge, but you’ve got this.”
I look down at my son who is sucking on his bottle, eyes drifting closed. He has no idea what’s going on. That his mother just passed away. I feel an ache deep in my chest, for both of them. I send up a silent prayer that I can be everything he needs. That somehow, I can give him the love of both parents.
“It’s just you and me, little man,” I whisper in his ear.
“I’m going to go call the guys and your parents.” Tyler steps out of the room.
“How’s he doing?” the nurse asks.
“Good, he finished the entire thing. You need to write that down or something, right?” I ask.
“I do. You did well, Dad.” She makes a note on the tablet in her hands. “Mr. Beckett, I know this is not the appropriate time for this conversation, but I have some paperwork here for you. The little guy is being released tomorrow, and we still need a name.”
What? He’s being released? “He can’t. I thought you said he could stay until we get the results. Who do I have to talk to? I refuse to let my son go into the system.”
“Mr. Beckett, the results are in. You are a 99.99% match. He’s your son.”
My heart stills in my chest.
“Breathe, Ridge.” Reagan giggles next to me.
I take in a breath. He’s mine. I knew he was—in my heart, in my gut. But now I have confirmation, know he’s coming home with me and not going into the foster care system. Melissa would hate that.
“I know this is a rough time for you, but we can’t release him until he has a name for the birth certificate.”
“Beckett,” I say automatically.
Reagan giggles again. “She’s got that part, goof. He needs a first name, a middle name. I know you said Melissa didn’t have a name in mind. Do you?” she asks gently.
Do I? No, I don’t. I’ve been too busy willing his momma to wake up. I look up and see his bed, the ‘Baby Knox’ displayed with his birth stats staring back at me.
Knox Beckett. He would always have a piece of his momma—her last name and mine.
“Knox Beckett,” I say out loud.
“Oh, Ridge, I love it,” Reagan says softly. “What about a middle name?”
I think about that. My middle name is Alexander, as is my dad’s. Seems fitting. I hope I’m half the father to Knox that my father was to me. “Knox Alexander Beckett.”
“Here is the paperwork you need to complete. Once I have it entered in the system, it will go to the state and they’ll issue his birth certificate. You’ll get it in the mail in a few weeks.”
I hand Knox off to Reagan and complete the stack of forms, pausing when I get to mother’s information. I swallow the lump in my throat as I write the word ‘deceased.’ Too fucking young and full of hope for the life she wanted to give our son. Needing my insurance info, I pull out my cell phone where I have it saved. When I tap the screen, the picture the nurse took of the three of us glares back at me. I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. Her smile . . . She was so fucking happy holding our son, and now she’s gone. After everything she’s been through.