Chapter Thirty-four
“She’s still unconscious,” Steve said. “She’s lost a lot of blood. But Dr. Whitman has given her some now and he’s hoping she responds.”
“Hoping? He’s hoping.” Her voice shook. “Isn’t there something else he can do? She can’t die,” Della said. “She can’t! You go back in there and tell him to do something!”
Steve dropped down beside her and put his arm around her. She buried her face in his shoulder.
“You did an amazing job delivering the baby and getting them here so quickly. They are both still alive because of you,” he said. “Maybe your parents are right about you becoming a doctor.”
“No, I hated every second of it. If she dies, it’s my fault. Oh, God. It’s my fault.”
“No it’s not.” His words came so close to her ear, she could feel his breath. “Don’t give up on Holiday yet.”
Della choked on a sob.
“Shh,” Steve said. “Holiday is a fighter. She’s going to pull through.”
“What if she doesn’t?” Della asked, her chest a big knot of pain. “Do you know how excited she was about this baby? Now there’s a chance the baby will never know her! And Burnett … Holiday is his life.” Della buried her head in Steve’s chest so he couldn’t see her cry, but she couldn’t stop the sobs that racked her body.
Steve stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “We just have to hope and pray—and trust that Holiday’s going to wake up. Like you said, she wants this baby so badly and she adores Burnett. So she has a lot to live for.”
Della closed her eyes against Steve’s shoulder, her sobs subsiding. Her breath evened out and she let his warmth surround her.
In the back of her mind, she knew they needed to talk about their own issues, but that seemed so trivial with Holiday’s life hanging on the line. Closing her eyes, she prayed again for Holiday. Harder than she’d ever prayed for anything in her life. Dear God, she’d already lost Chan; she couldn’t lose Holiday.
Della wasn’t sure how much time had passed—ten minutes or thirty—when Dr. Whitman walked out. She sat up. The smile on his face put her instantly at ease.
“Everything is going to be fine,” he said. “Thanks to you.” He focused on Della.
She nearly collapsed in relief, and Steve put his arm around her for support.
Right then, the front door swung open and Kylie stormed in, her eyes bright with emotion. “Where is she?” Her voice rang deep, the way it got when she was in protective mode.
“She’s in the back,” Dr. Whitman said. “But she’s going to be fine.”
“What happened?” Kylie asked.
Dr. Whitman answered, “It looks like she had a minor placental abruption.”
“Minor?” Della repeated with snark. Nothing felt minor about what had happened this last hour.
“Minor doesn’t mean it wasn’t serious, but if the abruption had been severe, the baby definitely would have died, and Holiday could have bled to death, too. As it is, she’s lost a lot of blood. If she’d lost any more…”
“I need to see her,” Kylie insisted. “I can help. I’m a healer.”
“She’s asking to see Della,” Dr. Whitman said. “I think you both can come in, but only for a few minutes. She needs her rest. And first you both need to go wash up.” He looked at Steve. “Do you have a shirt Della could borrow?”
Della hadn’t realized it until then, but she wore Holiday’s blood. Tears stung her eyes.
Steve led Della and Kylie to the bathroom in the back, then left, and returned with a navy T-shirt. He handed it to Della and walked out. Kylie shut the door.
“Are you okay?” Kylie asked.
“Yeah,” Della lied, and then slipped off her shirt, stiff with Holiday’s blood, and slid Steve’s shirt on. The feel of the cotton on her skin felt soft and cool. Della pulled it to her nose. Steve’s scent clung to the piece of clothing.
She’d missed that smell.
She’d missed Steve.
When Della walked in and saw Burnett holding his little girl in his arms, tears almost formed in her eyes again. Holiday still looked pale, but she smiled. “Thank you,” she said to Della, then nodded at Kylie.
“We were undecided on a middle name,” Burnett said. “But we decided to go with your middle name, Rose.”
Kylie chuckled and looked at Della. “Your middle name is Rose?”
Della frowned at Kylie and then looked back at Holiday. “Don’t give her that,” Della said. “I hate that name. It sounds like a p**n star!”
“It does not!” Burnett said. “I like it. She’s Hannah Rose James. Named after Holiday’s sister and you. The doctor said you saved them both. Looks like I’m going to have to be nice to you from now on.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” Della said, hoping humor would ease her need for more tears.
“You actually delivered the baby?” Kylie asked.
Della nodded. “It’s not like I had a choice. Holiday threatened to send death angels after my ass if I left.”
Everyone laughed.
“I’m sorry,” Holiday said, but she was still smiling.
“Don’t be,” Della said.
“That must have been amazing,” Kylie chimed in.
Della looked back at the proud mom and dad. “Yeah. And if you two ever decide to have another one, I’m getting the hell out of town. I’m not doing that again. And the minute I’m eighteen, I’m getting my tubes tied. I was too young to see that.”
Laughter filled the small room again. And it felt good.
The baby made a cooing sound. Burnett gazed down at the little bundle in his arms. Della’s heart melted at the love in the big bad vampire’s eyes. She couldn’t help but think of her own father; if at her own birth, he had loved her so much. But not wanting to get caught up in her own problems, she pushed that thought aside and studied the baby that, unfortunately, would carry her middle name.
All cleaned up now, she looked less like a wet puppy, and more like a little person. A beautiful little person. Della studied the infant’s pattern. Her pattern marked her as half fae and half vampire, but with the vampire pattern larger. She was definitely vampire dominant. With Burnett as her father, it wasn’t surprising. Neither was the fact that Hannah Rose James already looked like a daddy’s girl.