20. Cole

TWENTY

Cole

12:26 pm

John's City Diner

12 Richard Arrington Jr Blvd N

I step into John's City Diner, the vacuum of the outside, warm air, and ice-cold air inside sucking me in as I push open the heavy glass door. The quaint sandwich shop is bustling with the lunch crowd, a mix of office workers and locals. The aroma of fresh-baked bread and grilled meats fills the air.

Star is at a corner booth, her vibrant red hair impossible to miss. She waves, and I walk over, sliding into the worn leather seat across from her.

"Hey, girl," Star greets me with a warm smile. "You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders."

I force a laugh, but it comes out weak. "That obvious, huh?"

Our server approaches. She's a friendly, middle-aged woman with a Southern drawl. We order our usual—a Reuben for me and a club sandwich for Star.

While waiting for our food, I fidget with my napkin, trying to work up the courage to spill what's been eating at me.

"Alright, what's eating you? I can tell there is something," Star says, leaning forward. Her green eyes search my face with concern, and she reaches across the table to gently squeeze my hand. "What's going on, Cole? You know you can tell me anything."

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of my troubles pressing down on me. The bustling diner around us fades into the background as I focus on my best friend's worried expression. I've never been good at hiding my emotions from Star, and today is no exception.

I take a deep breath. "I think... I think Buster might be Maddie's father."

Star's eyes widen. "What? How?"

I explain my suspicions, the timing, the little mannerisms I've noticed. "And to complicate things further, we've been sleeping together. Star, I've fallen for him. Hard."

Our food arrives, but I barely notice it. I'm too caught up in my dilemma.

"I don't know what to do," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. The weight of my secret feels like it's crushing me. I push my untouched plate of food away, my appetite completely gone. "Should I just keep quiet and move forward? Or do I have to tell him? God, Star, I'm terrified of what this could mean for Maddie... for me... for everything we've built."

I pick at my fingernails, which are now a short mess, a nervous habit that has been on overdrive as of late.

The thought of potentially upending Buster's life—and mine—with this revelation makes my stomach churn. I feel physically ill like I might actually be sick right here at the table.

My mind races with all the possible outcomes, each one seeming worse than the last. The weight of my secret presses down on me, making it hard to breathe. I can't help but wonder if I'm about to destroy everything—my life, Buster's career, Maddie's future.

God, Maddie. What would this mean for her? My beautiful, innocent little girl is blissfully unaware of the turmoil churning all around her.

How would this affect her life and her future? The thought of potentially upending her world, of introducing such a massive change into her young life, makes my heart ache. I can't help but picture her confused face, her big dark eyes looking up at me, searching for answers I'm not sure I can give.

Would this revelation bring her joy or pain? Would it complicate her already complicated life as the daughter of a single mom?

The weight of these questions presses down on me, making it hard to breathe. The churning in my gut intensifies, and I have to take a deep breath to keep from spiraling further into panic.

Star reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. "Oh, honey. That's a lot to carry around."

I nod, feeling tears prick in my eyes. "I'm scared, Star. What if I'm right? What if I'm wrong? Either way, it could change everything."

2:48 pm

I push open the door to Brewed Awakening, the familiar bell chiming above me. The lunch crowd's last stragglers are finishing their meals, the buzz of conversation dying down. Nelson's at the front counter, wiping it down with his usual meticulous care.

"Hey, boss," he greets me with a grin. "How'd lunch go?"

I force a smile. "Good, thanks. How's everything here? Strong crowd?"

"Smooth sailing," he reports. "We had a steady stream without interruption for pretty much three hours. We probably have two hundred tickets from the lunch hour. That inspection really lit a fire under us, huh?"

I nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. "God, I'm so glad that's behind us."

Nelson leans against the counter. "You and me both. I swear, I've never been so stressed in my life."

"Let's make a pact," I say, holding out my hand. "We stay on top of this stuff from now on. No more surprises."

He shakes my hand firmly. "I've already got that in my head. They won't catch us with our pants down again."

As the last customer leaves, Nelson turns to me, his brow furrowing slightly. "Hey, you okay? You seem a bit... stressed."

I plaster on my best everything's-fine smile. "Just been anxious about this whole inspection thing. I'll be fine now that it's over."

But even as I say the words, my mind's racing with thoughts of Buster, Maddie, and the bombshell I might be sitting on. I push it down, like I always do, focusing on the here and now. There's work to be done, after all.

It's a familiar dance, and this mask I wear is one I've perfected over the years. The weight of this secret settles in my chest; it's been a constant companion since I admitted it to myself several days ago, now. I've learned to keep my worries on the inside and smile on the outside. This one is no different.

I take a deep breath, willing my features to remain neutral, my hands steady as I reach for the next task. The cafe won't run itself, and I've got customers to serve, orders to fill, and a business to run.

It's easier this way, losing myself in the rhythm of work, the hiss of the espresso machine drowning out the whispers of what-ifs and maybes that threaten to overwhelm me.

"Alright," Nelson says, though I can tell he's not entirely convinced. "Let me know if you need anything."

I know he means it. Nelson has been a fantastic manager, someone I can trust to keep the ship on course. And he has been a good friend. But I could never confide in him about this. Not at this point.

I nod, grateful for his concern but relieved he doesn't push further. As I head to my office, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the rest of the day. One step at a time, I remind myself. One day at a time.

3:11 pm

I'm just packing up my things to head out and pick up Madeline when my phone rings. I don't recognize the number, but I answer anyway.

"Hello, Ms. Johnson? This is Sarah from Garden Montessori."

My heart skips a beat. They never call unless something's wrong.

"Yes, this is she. Is everything okay?"

There's a pause, and I can feel my pulse quickening.

"Ms. Johnson, I'm calling about Madeline. She was very sleepy this afternoon, so we put her down for a nap. But when we tried to wake her for pickup, she wasn't responsive."

The world stops spinning, and everything around me fades into a blur. My breath catches in my throat, lodging there like a stone, and I feel my legs go weak beneath me.

Instinctively, I grip the edge of my desk with white-knuckled fingers, trying desperately to steady myself as the room seems to tilt and sway—my mind races, filled with a thousand terrifying possibilities, each worse than the last.

What could be wrong with Madeline, my sweet, vibrant little girl? The silence on the other end of the line stretches on, each second an eternity of fear and uncertainty.

"What do you mean, ‘not responsive'?" I manage to choke out.

"We've called an ambulance," Sarah continues, her voice steady but concerned. "They're on their way now. We wanted to let you know right away."

My mind is racing, panic rising like a tidal wave. Maddie. My baby. What's happening?

"I'm on my way," I say, already grabbing my keys and rushing out the door. "Which hospital are they taking her to?"

Sarah gives me the details, but I barely hear them. I'm running now, my heart pounding in my ears. The world around me blurs as I sprint to the school, hoping to get there before the ambulance arrives.

As I run down the sidewalk, my hands shake so badly I can barely see what's in front of me. Tears blur my vision, and I blink them away furiously. I need to focus. I need to get there before any first responders arrive.

What could have happened? She was fine this morning when I dropped her off, smiling and giggling as she waved goodbye. Was she sick? Did she hit her head on the playground equipment? Is it something worse, something I can't even bring myself to imagine?

My mind races through a thousand terrible scenarios, each one more horrifying than the last. I try to push them away, to focus on getting there, but they keep creeping back in, fueling my panic.

I've never run so fast in my life, but it feels like I'm moving through molasses, every second an eternity when my baby girl might be hurt.

I burst through the doors of Garden Montessori just as I hear the wail of sirens approaching. My heart is pounding so hard I can barely breathe, but I force myself to focus.

"Where is she?" I demand, my eyes scanning the room frantically.

The manager, a kind-faced woman named Linda, rushes over to me. "She's in the quiet room, Cole. This way."

I follow her, my legs feeling like lead. As we enter the room, I see my little girl lying motionless on a small cot. She looks so tiny, so vulnerable. I'm at her side in an instant, grasping her small hand in mine.

"Maddie, baby, can you hear me?" I whisper, fighting back tears.

Linda speaks softly behind me. "She hasn't stirred since we found her unresponsive after her nap. We've been monitoring her breathing, but..."

The paramedics rush in, cutting off Linda's explanation. They're all business, asking rapid-fire questions as they check Maddie's vitals.

"How long has she been unresponsive?"

"Any known allergies or medical conditions?"

"What was she doing before her nap?"

I answer as best I can, my voice shaking. The lead paramedic, a woman with kind eyes, turns to me.

"We need to transport her to the hospital for further evaluation. Would you like to ride with us?"

"Yes, please," I nod, relief washing over me that I won't be separated from Maddie.

As they prepare to move her onto the stretcher, I lean in close, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

"It's going to be okay, sweetie," I whisper, praying I'm right. "Mommy's here, and we're going to get you help."

I climb into the back of the ambulance, my eyes never leaving Maddie's still form. The paramedics work swiftly, attaching monitors and checking her vitals. The beeping of machines fills the small space, each sound a reminder of how serious this is.

"We're heading to UAB Emergency," one of the EMTs informs me as we start moving.

I nod numbly, unable to tear my gaze away from my daughter. She looks so tiny, so fragile, strapped to that gurney. My heart constricts painfully in my chest as I watch them insert an IV into her tiny arm.

"Maddie, baby, Mommy's here," I whisper, reaching to touch her hand. It's cool to the touch, and I have to fight back a sob.

The paramedics continue their work, calling out numbers and medical terms I don't understand. I feel helpless and useless. All I can do is sit here and watch as they tend to my little girl.

My hands tremble as I grip the edge of my seat, trying to make sense of the flurry of activity around Maddie. The ambulance sways and jerks as we speed through the streets, each turn sending a jolt of panic through my body.

I want to ask questions, to understand what's happening, but my voice is stuck in my throat. The beeping of the machines grows more insistent, and I silently plead with whatever higher power might be listening to keep my baby safe.

My hands shake as I pull out my phone. I need to tell someone what's happening, but the thought of explaining this to anyone feels overwhelming. Almost instinctively, I start a text to Buster.

Maddie was unresponsive at school. In an ambulance to UAB ER now. If you're there, please come if you can. Help me—I don't know what to do.

I'm so scared.

I hit send before I can second-guess myself. Buster is the only person I can bring myself to reach out to right now. This is his hospital. Surely, he can help us if anyone can.

As I put my phone away, I notice the lead paramedic watching me with sympathy in her eyes.

"We're doing everything we can," she assures me. "Try to stay calm. It helps her to feel your calming presence."

I nod, swallowing hard. I force myself to take deep breaths, trying to project calm I don't feel. For Maddie's sake, I have to be strong.

We burst through the hospital doors, Maddie on a gurney, surrounded by a flurry of medical staff—my heart pounds in my chest, a relentless, suffocating rhythm.

The fluorescent lights overhead blur as tears fill my eyes. Maddie lies still, too still, her small body looking even more fragile than before against the white sheets.

"Please, help her," I whisper, my voice breaking. "What's wrong with her?"

The doctors and nurses work quickly, checking her vitals and attaching monitors. Maddie's face is pale, her lips slightly blue. Her tiny chest rises and falls with the help of an oxygen mask. Her eyes are closed, unresponsive, and it's tearing me apart.

Dr. Bellinger, a tall, handsome doctor with a calm demeanor and crystal blue eyes, approaches me. "Ms. Johnson, we will run several tests to determine what's causing Maddie's condition. Right now, her heart rate and blood pressure are stable, but we need to find out why she's unresponsive."

I nod, trying to focus on his words through the haze of panic. "What could it be?" I ask, my voice trembling.

Dr. Bellinger looks at me with sympathy. "There are several possibilities. We're considering metabolic imbalances, infections, neurological issues, or even a toxic ingestion. We'll be running blood tests, a CT scan of her brain, and a lumbar puncture to check for infections in her cerebrospinal fluid."

My knees feel weak, and I clutch the side of Maddie's bed for support. Her small hand lies limp in mine, and I squeeze it gently, hoping for a response. "Will she be okay?" I manage to ask, my throat tight with fear.

"We're doing everything we can," Dr. Bellinger assures me. "The tests will give us more information. It's important to stay strong for Maddie right now."

As they wheel her away for the tests, I feel a cold, hollow ache in my chest. Every second feels like an eternity. I pace the small waiting area, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. What if it's something we can't fix? What if I lose her?

The minutes drag on, each one heavier than the last. My body is trembling, my hands clammy with sweat. I can't sit still. I can't breathe properly. My only concern is knowing that she will be okay.

Finally, Dr. Bellinger returns. His expression is serious but composed. "Ms. Johnson, we've completed the initial tests. We're still waiting on some results, but we've been able to rule out a few things. Her blood tests showed no immediate signs of toxic substances, and the CT scan didn't reveal any major abnormalities. We're now focusing on potential infections or metabolic issues."

I nod numbly, trying to process the information. "What does that mean? Is she any closer to waking up?"

"We need to wait for the results of the lumbar puncture and further blood tests," he explains. "In the meantime, we're providing supportive care to stabilize her."

I collapse into a chair, my legs no longer able to hold me up. The uncertainty is unbearable. I look at Maddie through the window of her room, her vulnerable body connected to so many machines. She seems so weak, so unlike the vibrant, energetic girl she usually is.