Ride with Me Read online

  I sit in the recliner in my living room, my feet up, a plate of food on the side table, and presents lining the damn room. Cruz, my wonderful man, moved the party from the clubhouse to our house. I had to breathe through that one since my first thought was, I just cleaned the place, but I let it go. He was coming from a place where he thought he was taking care of me. I know that, so I let him do it. It also helps that Ma, Casey, Blaze, and Tanner all said they would pick up the mess.

  I went in the bedroom while they set up, and when I came out, the furniture was moved with folding chairs everywhere.

  I’m extremely happy they didn’t go decorations happy. That shit’s just not me. Instead, everything is simple with lots of blues and pinks.

  I knew the moment I saw the cake, it was Casey’s doing. I’m not going to lie; it’s weird, really weird: a woman from boobs to crotch with a huge belly in the middle. I’m not sure I get that, but it is what it is.

  Presents are handed to me one after the other. It’s never ending, and I feel myself getting a bit run down. I’m sure we won’t have to buy a package of diapers or baby wipes for a year. Plus, pacifiers of every kind, clothes for boys and girls from newborn to a year, lotions, shampoos and body washes, toys, something called a diaper genie that I supposedly need. So much. Way too much. Everyone gave and gave. I’m sure we will use it all, but damn, it will be a lot to store.

  “Mine!” Ma calls out, handing me a picture.

  I look at it, seeing it’s of two solid oak wood cribs. The detail is very intricate and beautiful.

  “Wow, Ma, they’re beautiful.”

  “I had Bobbie build them for me.” GT had Bobbie build bassinet back when Deke was born. It was beautiful. She offered to let me use it, but with two babies, I know I won’t be able to use it for long.

  “Thank you.”

  Ma smiles. “And this!” She gives me a huge bag that I can barely get into. “Wait, let me help.” She pulls the bag back down then pulls out red and black fabric. She made me bedding, just like she did baby Deke. One set is red with little black motorcycles, and the other is black with little red motorcycles. Ravage colors.

  I try really hard to hold the tears back that threaten to spill over my face.

  “They’re beautiful, Ma. Thank you.” A tear slips as I fail to hold them back. Blaming it on the damn hormones, I swipe it away quickly.

  Ma pulls me into her arms as best she can, hugging me tightly. “Love you, baby girl.”

  I repeat the sentiment back to her as she pulls away, trying to contain my damn self.

  I have to say, feeling all this love, a love so damn bright, made this the best fucking day.

  ***

  As we wait for the doctor, I run through yesterday’s party and how I kept my ass in the chair, only getting up to pee. There was no stress whatsoever, so I feel really good about this check up.

  This morning, Cruz and Cooper brought me breakfast in bed, which was sweet. I didn’t do anything the rest of the day except anticipate this appointment.

  I’m scared. It’s the truth. I don’t want to spend the next few weeks lying in a hospital bed. I will do it if that is needed, but I really don’t want to.

  The door opens, and the doctor strolls in, a huge smile on her face. “Hello,” she says cheerfully. “First thing first, the nurse did your blood pressure, but I’m going to do it again to make sure.”

  She puts the cuff around me, and I can feel my heart begin to pick up, but I breathe through, calming myself a bit.

  “It’s actually in the normal range. On the high side, but it looks like you get to go back home for now.”

  A smile lights up my face, and we get the hell out of there quickly.

  ***

  Thirty-two weeks, these babies have been inside me. Not only can I not see my toes anymore, I can’t bend and can barely get up from any position. Lying on my back is impossible, and the little ones are pushing on my bladder, making me pee every five minutes.

  Two hours ago, I was in Dr. Hernandez’s office. Now I’m sitting in a hospital room, getting hooked up to every machine I think they have in this building. Beeps and buzzes are going off as wires are attached to my belly, fingers, and chest.

  I’m doing my best to stay calm since this is the one place that is best for me and the babies right now. The doctor has checked my blood pressure regularly, and until today, it stayed on the normal-high side. Today, though, it skyrocketed to a point where she was nervous. She didn’t have to say it because it was written all over her face.

  That fear only amps up mine, making my blood pressure rise more. Everything is happening so quickly. Shots are even being injected into me to help the babies lungs develop. The earliest the doctor wanted to take them out of me was thirty-four weeks, but with my blood pressure, she’s concerned.

  The babies seem to be doing okay, but the blood flow is a concern. The doctor is going to do some tests to make sure they are getting enough. If they aren’t, she is going to do a C-section and deliver them now.

  I’m scared shitless of this. Actually, scared doesn’t seem like the right word. Terrified, petrified, those are a little better, but they still don’t seem to cut it. I can’t even have Cruz next to me to reassure me since there are so many doctors and machines around. At least I can feel his presence across the room. That helps.

  It feels like hours but could only be minutes before Dr. Hernandez comes in, reading something, her face intense. My belly twists, and not from the two little babies.

  She looks up and tries for a smile, but it falls flat. Cruz quickly comes to my side, only able to get to my foot with all the machines surrounding me.

  “We need to take the babies out. I want more than anything to keep them in, but it seems your little boy isn’t getting the blood supply he needs. We need to get them out now.”

  My world stops for a moment as I take it all in. I did internet searches and became very familiar with the NICU. While I know the hospital has qualified people, it still scares the ever loving shit out of me.

  “The babies will be rushed to the NICU. I’ll let you see each of them for only seconds. Then they will be taken so the doctors can work on them. I made a call to my friend in the NICU, and she is going to see to the babies personally.”

  Fear chokes me like a noose around my neck.

  “But are they going to be all right?”

  “We will assess all of that once they get out and are evaluated.”

  Cruz squeezes my ankle as tears fall freely down my face, fear for the lives of my unborn babies hitting me like a lead pole. I can’t lose them. I can’t.

  I shake my head as Cruz rubs my leg, letting me know he’s right there with me.

  “I wanted to give the drugs time to work, but we need to get you prepped for a C-section and do this now.”

  I breathe out through the tears and nod my head, my eyes locked on my man. His eyes are tearing up, as well, but he holds them back, which only make mine fall harder. We could lose them, and I just can’t.

  Everything from that moment on is in hyper-speed to the point where I’m not even breathing when Cruz sits next to my head with a huge sheet draped in front of my face so I can’t see my babies as they are being born. I hate this. I want to see them. It only brings on more tears that I try to stop.

  Cruz kisses my head then leans down to my ear. “Believe, Princess. Believe that everything is going to work out. Believe our babies are going to make it. Believe that I’m here by your side through anything, through everything, and that I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” I choke out as Dr. Hernandez pokes her head over the sheet.

  “I’m starting. You’re going to feel pressure. I’ll show you the babies, but then they have to go,” she tells us.

  “Okay,” I sob out, trying to be strong for my babies, but I feel so damn useless and weak inside.

  Cruz whispers assurances in my ear as I feel the pressure she was talking about. When the doctor holds the smallest little body
I have ever seen in my life up to me for the briefest moment, I lose it. Tears and sobs overtake my body. I don’t even know if that was the boy or the girl. I look to Cruz, but the distress all over his face tells me he didn’t get to see, either. That hurts my heart.

  Only seconds later, the exact same thing happens, and I can’t take it. I close my eyes, trying to block out the hurt. I know they are going to get the help they need, but as a mom, I want to see my babies. I want to hold them, feel them. I want to be the one to help them, make them safe, comfort them, but it’s not me that they need right now. There is nothing I can do for them at this moment, and it’s killing me. I would take every ounce of pain or hurt they feel on me in a second if I could.

  With all the drugs coursing through my veins, I allow myself to let it all come down on me. The bricks of my life crash, and I let the weight pull me down.

  I ache for my woman and my babies. Three days my babies have been on this earth, and we haven’t been able to touch them. It’s the fucking hardest thing either of us has had to do.

  They are encased in these plastic cubes with wires and machines attached. The doctors say they are giving them antibiotics along with medicines to help their lungs and heart. Our little girl is responding to the medicines best, but our little boy is taking a little longer.

  We visit as much as the hospital staff allows us, although they sometimes have to kick Princess out when she doesn’t want to leave them.

  “They are so beautiful,” Ma squeals from beside me, her face lit with joy.

  They are adorable even with all the tubes. I had Ravage MC stocking caps made for them, so they are very easy to pinpoint through the glass enclosure.

  It sucks that this is the only way for our family to see the babies, but we deal.

  A hand claps my shoulder. “You did good, son,” Pops says.

  The pride I feel from those words is indescribable. I thought I did pretty well myself.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, watching my babies breathe through a tube. I fucking hate that there is nothing I can do to fix this. Hate it.

  “So, Princess gets to come home today?” Ma asks.

  That is the hardest part. Dr. Hernandez told us she is going to release Princess, but the babies have to stay here.

  “Yeah, she’s pissed.” That’s pretty much an understatement. She threatened to camp out in the waiting room, and I can’t say I blame her. I don’t want to leave any more than she does.

  “I bet.” Pops crosses his arms over his chest. “She’s a good woman.”

  Fuck yeah, she is. I love that she’s ready to take on everyone who stands in her way, but with this, I had to calm her. I fucking hate it, but the babies being here is the best thing, and she’s still recovering from her C-section. One wrong twist and she could open her incision. Pointing out these things was the only way I got her to agree to come home with me.

  Our family has been in the waiting area on and off, but Princess hasn’t wanted to see anyone besides Ma and Pops—well, except Coop, but I haven’t had him brought up. Emotions are too high right now, and I’m not doing that to my boy. I’m assuming after Ma and Pops leave, they will take turns coming to see the babies.

  “I gotta go get Princess.”

  My chest aches as I make my way to the room. Today, I take my woman home, but not my babies. That shit fucking kills. What kills worse is there isn’t a fucking thing I can do about it. I’m helpless—totally, utterly helpless—and I fucking hate this shit. That hurts. I want to make everything okay, make everyone healthy and take my whole family home, but that’s not in the cards.

  “I have good news,” the nurse says as she walks into the room. Princess’ eyes go directly to her. “Not only do you get to get out of here today, but I just got word you get to hold your babies.”

  Princess’ face bursts with a light that I haven’t seen since the doctor told us we had to come in here. The color comes back from her pale face, and a small smile tries to make its appearance.

  “That’s fucking great,” I tell the nurse when Princess can’t seem to find the words, her head turning to me as a tear leaks down her face. Damn, my strong woman is in so much damn pain. Fuck, I hate this.

  I wrap my arms around her and try to give her my strength. She melts into me, giving it all to me, and I happily take it all on my shoulders.

  We enter the NICU to hellos from all the staff. We have gotten to know most of them, and they are all decent people. I can’t say I won’t be happy as fuck that I never have to see them again once I get my babies out of here, though.

  They push Princess’ wheelchair up to the plastic box that has our little girl wrapped in a blanket, which is different considering she’s normally without anything on her except a tiny diaper.

  A nurse comes over, happiness radiating from her. “Today’s the day!” she says cheerily.

  The nurse opens the plastic case, lifts our little girl out, and puts her in Princess’ arms. She’s tiny, so damn tiny, and with the cords still attached to her, I fear for her. I want to fix her.

  Princess holds her like she’s afraid she will hurt her, and I can’t blame her. This shit is scary.

  “Hi there, Austyn,” Princess coos the name she’s been hiding from me for the past few weeks. We had several discussions about it and decided she names the girl, and I name the boy. I have to admit. I like it. Austyn Cruz. Fucking perfect.

  I kneel down, seeing my beautiful, little girl. Her eyes are closed, and she looks so damn content. One wouldn’t know, except for the wires, that there was anything wrong or not developed.

  When it’s my turn, they place baby Austyn in my arms, and I swear, in that moment, fuck the chastity belt. I’m locking her ass up until she’s thirty. My girl. My precious little girl.

  Our time is way too short with her, but they say they have to get her back in her cube to keep her warm. Fuck, I hate this.

  The nurse moves us to our boy, and while excitement comes through at telling Princess his name, he looks a little worse than Austyn. He’s not covered in a blanket yet, and the rise and fall of his little chest is scary as shit. It looks like he’s trying with everything in him to breathe, even though the tubes in him are doing most of the work. I fucking hate this.

  The nurse wraps him up and places him in Princess’ arms.

  “Hey, there,” she says in her choked voice.

  I kneel next to her, holding back my emotion of terror for my little guy. Instead, I say, “Lennox, you’re a fighter, buddy. You’ve got this.”

  Princess’ tears fall more quickly. “I love it, Cruz,” she says in a choked breath. “He is. He’s a fighter.”

  “Yeah, babe. He is.”

  His face is a little more sunken than Austyn’s, and I hope to fuck the doctor’s words are true when they tell me he’s doing better. Fuck, this shit kills.

  All too soon, they are taking my boy away from my arms, and then I’m taking my woman home to a house with two less children in it than there should be.

  Four weeks of visiting the hospital daily. Living at home, I feel that burning ache of not having my babies with me. Cooper can feel it, too. He asks all the time when they are coming home.

  We took him a few times to the hospital and let him see through the glass, but he doesn’t understand why I can go in and hold the babies, but he can’t. I tried to explain the germs, but he didn’t want to listen to any of it. I can’t blame him. I didn’t want to listen to why my babies weren’t here, either.

  During the time I have been home and my babies there, they have had some achievements and several setbacks. Each setback—heart and lung development, jaundice, feeding issues—Cruz has been at my side. Actually, everyone has been at our sides: Ma, Pops, GT, Casey—everyone. I fully admit I haven’t been myself. I have been taking this shit hard. I just can’t help it. Coop running around, being the active boy he is, helps a lot.

  It’s been almost more than I can bare, but yesterday at our visit, Cruz and I got the best news ever. To
day, we get to bring our babies home. They are technically thirty-six weeks, but they are breathing on their own, feeding from a bottle regularly, and every test the doctors have run has come back with the results they were looking for.

  I can’t believe it. I can’t believe that we are finally bringing our family home! Of course, I won’t be fully relieved until we get the babies in the car and bring them home.

  As we walk to the NICU, Cruz carries the two car seats, and I’m scared to death. I’m terrified we are going to get there, and they are going to tell us that something happened and that we won’t be able to take our babies home. That fear is something I can’t get rid of. It’s also something that is killing me a little inside.

  We enter the room and heads turn to us. As they see who it is, smiles lift their faces, and a small bit of relief hits me. They aren’t looking at me with gloom faces, so that’s a start.

  A nurse named Cindy comes up. “You’re here!” She’s the head of the NICU, and we have gotten to know her pretty well over the last four weeks. She’s good, and I’m happy my babies had her when they couldn’t have me.

  “Hi,” I greet her, waiting for the shoe to drop, waiting for her to tell me that Austyn and Lennox have to stay. They can’t, just can’t. My heart can’t take it.

  “Today’s the day these two beauties get out!” She’s excited, but there’s a small bit of despair there, too. “I’m gonna miss these two,” she says softly. Again, I’m so grateful my kids had someone like her. She’s totally in the fold and doesn’t even know it yet.

  Weight is lifted from my shoulders as I feel the relief. My babies are coming home! They are really coming home with me. Holy shit! Excitement like no other bubbles in me as I turn to Cruz, seeing the smile on his face.

  “I know, babe,” he says.

  Fuck it. I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. My poor man has been through the ringer with this, being my rock when I didn’t have the strength for it. He’s absolutely amazing.