Free Wicked Intentions (Steele Secrurity Book 4) by A.D. Justice Page A

future. Yes, it was hard going to school with everyone watching every pound I gained, but you made that easy for me, too. When a snarky comment was made, you either threatened to beat the guy up or to reveal an embarrassing secret about the girl if they didn’t shut up. My personal bodyguard, your love and support were all I ever needed.
    The day Dalton Miles Reed was born was a new experience for us both. It was the first time you were the one who’d needed consoling and protecting. You were so adorable in your panicked state — afraid something would go wrong and you’d lose me, helpless because you couldn’t stop the labor pains that tore through me, and secretly dreading the gory part of the delivery. I had to keep reassuring you that I was fine, I would be fine, and you would also be fine. I think I said “fine” at least a million times that day.
    Turns out, all three of us were fine excellent. After just a couple of days in the hospital, you took Dalton and me home to our little apartment. In our haste to move in together, we didn’t consider the fact we’d need a separate bedroom for our son’s things. So after my baby shower when we brought home the bassinet, car seat, bouncy seat, changing table, and all the baby clothes, our bedroom and living room were instantly transformed. We joked that our entire apartment had become one big nursery with no room to turn around in, but we were happy with it.
    We had absolutely no clue about what colic was, how easily babies got their days and nights mixed up, or how to fix either issue. But we learned a lot about one-, two-, three-, and four-o’clock feedings, diaper changes, and what his different cries meant. The sleepless nights began to add up until we were beyond exhausted.
    When I woke up that night, I immediately knew something was very wrong. I’d slept more than two hours straight for the first time in nearly three months. Dalton was in his crib beside our bed, sleeping well for the first time. I gently laid my hand on his stomach, just as I’d done so many times before when he slept, just to feel the rise and fall of his breath.
    But it wasn’t there.
    There was no rise and fall. There was no warmth from his little baby body.
    Only stillness.
    My heart pounded in my chest, and my own breaths wouldn’t come. I flew out of the bed and picked him up, careful to support his little head, but with an urgency I’d never experienced before. You felt me moving, and you also sensed something was terribly wrong. When you flipped the switch and the room filled with the bright overhead light, my heart splintered with unimaginable pain. The bluish hue of his skin and lips was unmistakable.
    You took him from my arms and immediately started CPR while I dialed 911. Somehow, through my hysterics, I was able to tell them where we were and what had happened. Regardless of the circumstances and how badly you were hurting, you wouldn’t give up, you wouldn’t stop trying to revive him. All you wanted was to bring him back to us, and you did everything you could possibly do.
    When the paramedics arrived and took over, Dalton still wasn’t breathing. I overheard them talking when they were working on him in the back of the ambulance. They didn’t know I was there when one guy asked the other if he thought Dalton would make it. He was hesitant to answer, but he finally said, “No, it doesn’t look like it.”
    At that moment, I wanted to die. If I could’ve willed my heart to stop beating, I would’ve gladly done just that and died with him. It would’ve been better than living with the devastation that had just hit me like a speeding locomotive.
    We didn’t speak the entire ride to the hospital. I know I was lost in my prayers, begging for a miracle, trying to bargain with God to make it all a nightmare so I could wake up and gladly give up another night of sleep just to care for our baby. At the time, I didn’t even realize you hadn’t said a word. It wasn’t