Contracted To The Beast novel Chapter 95

Chapter 95

Immediately we reached Vancouver General Hospital, the sliding glass doors barely finished opening before I rushed through them.

My shoes squeaked against the polished hospital floor as I scanned the reception desk.

Somewhere behind me, a car door slammed.

Maddox.

I didn’t wait for him.

“Excuse me,” I gasped, gripping the edge of the reception desk to steady myself.

My lungs burned.

The words wouldn’t come.

“My daughter…” I swallowed hard. “Zara Page. Four years old. She was brought in by ambulance.”

“Take a deep breath, Nia,” Maddox said, patting my back.

“Right, come with me,” the nurse said, and I followed her, walking briskly toward the ER

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, turning to Maddox. “Are you the dad?”

“No, I’m not,” he replied.

“Non-immediate family is restricted for now,” she said to him.

Maddox caught both my hands before I followed the nurse.

“Hey.”

I looked up.

“She’s in the best place she can be.”

I nodded automatically, though I wasn’t sure I’d heard a word he’d said.

The nurse pushed open another set of doors.

I let go of his hand and ran and I didn’t look back.

If I had, I would have seen him stop outside the double doors, hands buried in his pockets, watching until they swung shut between us.

“Right this way, ma’am,” the nurse led me through the hallway.

“Nia,” Mom called out as I got to the door.

“Where is she?” I asked frantically.

The nurse opened the door to reveal Zara lying limply on the bed. My legs gave out before I even realized I’d stopped walking.

I sank beside the bed and reached for her hand.

“Mama,” her voice was barely a whisper.

“Zar Bear,” I said, a single tear dropping from my eye.

The oxygen tubing looped around her tiny ears before disappearing beneath her nose.

It looked too big on her small face.

I hated it.

“Are you crying, Mama?” she asked weakly.

I hurriedly wiped the tear away and shook my head quickly, managing a weak smile. “No, I’m not.”

I stroked her dark locs gently. The moment my palm touched her forehead, heat rushed into my skin.

She was still burning up. Her usually vivid gray eyes looked dull as her eyelids fluttered lazily.

“I want to sleep, Mama.”

“Go ahead, baby,” I continued to rub her head. “I’ll be right here.”

I bit the inside of my cheek until it hurt.

The first tear landed on our joined hands before I even realized I was crying.

A few minutes after she fell asleep.

“What happened to her?” My shoulders shook as I sobbed as quietly as I could, so I wouldn’t wake her up.

“Let’s head to my office,” I turned at the voice behind me and rose to my feet.

“I’ll watch her,” Mom said, taking a seat next to her. “Go with him.”

I nodded and accompanied the man I presumed to be the doctor.

Held her while she slept. How had I still missed this?

I took a look at her pale bluish lips and shook my head.

“The doctor said it started as walking pneumonia,” I said gently as I leaned on the wall. “It’s not your fault. There’s no way we could have known.”

I said to Mom, talking more to myself than her. I needed a way to soothe my aching conscience. Besides, I took her to the hospital immediately and her babysitter spotted the signs of the flu.

I was so convinced she was getting better, well until I received that call from Mom. I never thought I’d see the day that this would happen.

I never expected I’d be getting a call from my mom that my daughter had just been rushed to the hospital.

“You should go home, Mom,” I said, handing her a tissue.

“But…”

“No buts,” I interrupted her. “I’ll stay here and watch her. I can’t have your blood pressure going up.”

“It won’t, I promise,” she replied.

“Should I get a nurse here to check?” I asked.

“No, there’s no need,” she rose to her feet and gave Zara a kiss on the head.

“Don’t put too much strain on yourself, okay?” she paused to take a good look at me.

“I won’t, I promise,” I said to her as she turned to leave.

I took a seat beside the bed and stared at Zara’s sleeping form. Her breathing was a bit laboured.

The steady beep… The hiss of oxygen… The drip of antibiotics… Every machine in the room was doing something to help her

I was the only one with nothing to do.

I’d broken bones. Worked thirty-hour shifts. Gone days without sleep. I’d take every bit of this if it meant she could climb out of that bed smiling tomorrow.

But medicine didn’t work that way.

So I sat beside her, wrapped my fingers around her tiny hand, and waited for morning.

At least she’d be okay at this very moment and I’d then figure out a way to handle myself.

Zara is my major priority.