Chapter Four

So much is flooding into the deep recesses of my mind. It's full of emotion and tragedy, and an entire barrage of questions that I want answered. Yet I fear nothing will bring the clarity that I need. My world's only beginning to fall down around me to where new realities are going to become permanent in my life for the very first time. Namely, a sole parental figure for Lily Ambrosia. She simply deserves way better than I could ever give her.

Splashing cool water against my exhaustion in the mirror, I'm left to wonder how I'll even tell her that Daddy isn't coming home. I've hardly been present when she's scraped a knee or been in the vicinity as she receives an immunization. So, relaying this fuckstorm while fitting it to a six-year-old's neurodivergent vernacular is out of my wheelhouse. Lily is simply not skilled enough to read a person's emotions, nor appropriately process her own. This'll wreck her entirely.

I hurry back out to the master bedroom, trying to gather my composure. Tottering from one end of the room to another, I scratch the back of my head while mumbling to myself.

"Oh shit, I've gotta let Mel know," I groan, thrashing my arms around in a fit of fury. "Fuck—I can't walk into a hospital wearing flannel pajama bottoms."

A moment later, I remove the flannels from both legs, letting them fall where they may. With a fresh pair of black shorts, I quickly raise them up to waist level. On my trail back to Lily's bedroom, I ponder what excuse I'm going to provide. Why am I robbing her of precious sleep, whisking her across the whole of Denver at this time of night?

My head wavers repeatedly. "I have so many people to tell—" my words stop short as I approach her door.

Inhaling a quick breath, I twist the knob as gently as possible. Even though I'm pretty sure in my escalated emotional state, I'd pushed it wide open like a beast. Lily Bean rests so peacefully, with her arms clenched tightly around her stuffed animal, Donald the Unicorn. All the parenting books out there warn about waking a baby. But what none of them prepare a guy like me for is how to suddenly disrupt an autistic child's sleep-wake pattern. More salted rivers accost my cheeks.

Annoyed at myself mostly, I raise my forehead to the ceiling. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Max," I mumble quietly.

You cannot cry in front of her. Not yet. Just be gentle. She's capable of so much more than you give her credit for.

Leaning forward gently, my arms sneak under her petite frame.

I whisper calmly, "Lily Bean."

The movement in combination with my calm demeanor—for what it's worth—is enough to jostle her from whatever dream she's been navigating. She pries her eyes open, wiping both with the curl of her tiny fingers.

"What happening, Uncle Maxie?" She questions in her childlike broken English, seemingly half-awake.

Carefully in my arms, I take her out to the hallway, where I'm left to contend with another decision. The fact of the matter is, there's broken glass scattered around the base of our staircase. So, this is one instance where I must use the elevator. In a typical circumstance, we've forbidden Lily from touching this convenient luxury most other Denvertonians don't have. With her safety in mind, of course. This, however, is one night I'll have to break Brogan's strict decree and take her down to the ground floor in my arms.

All the raucous elevator sounds stir Lily even more awake, to where she covers her yawn. "Something wrong, Maxie?"

Kids are way smarter than adults will ever realize. I'm sure she can tell something is amiss with how I'm behaving. Maybe some pheromone of dread. Or perhaps I'm unable to keep my facial expressions quite as stoically as Brogan can. Oh fuck. He's not going to show any expression any longer. All I know for sure is that I can't tell her like this.

I break the awkward tension with a little white lie. "Sweetie, we have to bring daddy a couple of things from home," I say, fully aware this may bite me in the ass later. At least I know that it's only going to suffice for an hour or two.

Lily responds with another yawn. "Ohhhh okay."

As the elevator rushes us down to the main level, I'm able to take a mental inventory of the things I'm about to confront at the hospital. Everything from signing paperwork to collecting his personal effects. The wallet that paid for our dinner tonight. Fuck. Our last dinner? And now that I think about it, I acted like a complete jackass because he had to leave for a patient emergency. Had I known Brogan would wind up being the victim of his own medical crisis, I'd have locked the goddamn restaurant doors and staged a lockdown. Anything to keep my lover here with me. If only I had known.

I lead Lily across the cool concrete floor of our garage, my hand gently resting on her shoulder. The garage is large enough to house three vehicles comfortably, and at the far end, Brogan's Porsche Cayenne gleams under the fluorescent lights. With a click of my key fob, the car's locks disengage with a sharp chirp that reverberates among these three walls.

Lily, ever predictable, flinches and covers her ears. A slight grimace distorts her features, which is a silent plea for the noise to stop. I note her discomfort with a pang of guilt, because I'm so ill-equipped to parent her alone. I know she doesn't like loud noises, but this slipped my grief-riddled mind. Making a mental note to be more mindful in the future, I help her up into her car seat.

"I'm sorry, Lily Bean," I plead for her forgiveness, rubbing her palm in a soothing fashion. "Maxie forgot about the loud noise this time."

Wasting no more time, I crawl to the driver's door with a sense of dread overtaking me. For one, because I know what's about to unfold in less than half an hour. And for two, I'm not ready to say goodbye. Our life had just practically begun. Behind the steering wheel, I glance into the rearview mirror with a solitary tear streaming down my face. Meanwhile, I defy the internal demon heckling sweet nothings into my conscious. Why the fuck is this happening to me? Why did he have to die? Why did I let him leave the restaurant?

The short drive couldn't be long enough. Now that I've parked in the spot next to the ambulance bay of Mt. Sinai Health, it's time to face the music. Even if my stomach feels like razors are slicing away slowly and painfully, I step out into the brisk summer air to unbuckle Lily from her car seat.

She holds my hand with a ferocious grip, seemingly excited to see her daddy at work. Yet the guilt of my white lie is already sizzling at the surface of my conscience. Why didn't I grin and bear it? We shuffle through the automatic doors, immediately blinded by the drastic shift in brightness from outside to the interior of the emergency department. Harried, I glance around in the search of a nurse's station while Lily remains clutched to my leg because the fluorescent lighting is too much to process. I don't fucking blame her. It's whatever goddamn o'clock in the morning?

Nurses in navy blue scrubs and a female doctor in her white coat pass us by when I spot the nurse's station a dozen paces away. To be fair, I don't exactly know the schematics of this place, because I've never had to see Brogan hard at work. And now, I won't have that luxury. I get to see him breathless, probably pale and blue in the face with eyes closed, and a fucking toe tag. If God is real, he should hear my rage and thoughts about now for stealing my husband. That's what's entirely unfair.

My gaze shifts down toward Lily as we approach the desk. "Okay honey, be a good girl for me," I whisper low in her ear. "These guys are safe. They're saving so many lives tonight."

The bitter truth that Brogan should be saving one particular life tonight leaves me feeling yet another momentary wave of nausea. And with that, Lily's face lights up with excitement.

"Like Daddy save lifes?" She responds. "I wanna see Daddy, I wanna see my Daddy," she shrieks throughout the entire emergency department.

Meanwhile, a nurse at her desk turns around, matching my gaze. "Can I help you, sweetheart?"

I clear the rustle in my throat. "Yes, I'm here for Brogan Baxter," I reply, darting my eyes down in Lily's direction. "I have his— briefcase ?—"

"Oh, yes," she nods. "Thank you for coming down here," she adds.

Lily interrupts astutely. "But we didn't bring anything with us, Uncle Maxie," she whinnies.

The black nurse responds in Lily's direction. "You must be Lily," she grins, proving her ability to compartmentalize. "I think I might have a treat in this fun little drawer here—" she stammers, opening her desk drawer.

Meanwhile, I bend down to meet Lily Bean at eye level. "Sweetie," I begin, fighting back the current of tears trying to surface. "I'm going to be just a few minutes and I'll be back out here as quickly as possible."

Poor Lily shakes her head insistently. "No, I'm going with you," she affirms. "We're going together."

The nurse, Kim, extends her open palm with a shiny packet of Lorna Doone cookies. "And I have a cranberry juice back in our fridge if you're thirsty," she replies enticingly, furling her eyebrows.

With calmness, I positioned Lily in a rolling office chair next to Kim so that I can attend to the dreaded business which I've been summoned to handle. Yet, she will not budge. No sooner do I shuffle around the edge of the nurses' station when Lily makes a beeline for my leg.

"Don't leave me here alone, Maxie," she drones. "I'm scared."

The male nurse waiting to escort me back to my dead husband swallows a hard gulp of air while I lower back to my haunches. "Lily Bean," I respond soothingly, brushing the beautiful blonde hair over her ear. "You're too young to come back here, but you are absolutely safe with Kim—I promise."

She bows her head. "Ooookay, I wait for you here."

I pat her on the head. "Good girl, I promise we won't be here long."

Kim scampers up to the two of us, holding out her hand for Lily to grip. "Come on, Lily," she says. "How about we go get that juice?"

Lily rolls her eyes. "Okay, but I drink apple juice."

It's true. Apple juice is her jam. And for her sake, I hope there's at least one box of it in their fridge or Kim may have to deal with an autistic meltdown all on her own. The thoughts of how I'm going to pick up the pieces in Brogan's absence flood my mind yet again. Hell, I'm not even sure how to de-escalate Lily sometimes.