Page 113 of Baby Daddy
CHAPTER 46
Dee
Drake gripped my hand as we waited with baited breath for some news about Tyson. After being admitted to the hospital, she’d been rushed to the Hanson Trauma Center and was now undergoing surgery. My heart ticked with each minute of the clock, my stomach twisted into a painful knot. I hadn’t stopped praying. Only prayers could keep my mind off two frightening words: what if.
Finally, after three excruciating hours, a doctor headed our way. She was wearing scrubs and had her surgical mask strung on top of her head. Probably in her forties, she adjusted her half-moon glasses as she approached us. My heart beat faster with each step she took. Still holding hands, Drake and I jumped up from the leather couch in unison.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hanson? I’m Dr. Wang, your daughter’s surgeon.”
I didn’t even bother to correct her. “Is she okay?” I blurted out, my heart beating a gazillion miles a minute.
The doctor lifted off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. She looked weary and stressed. I thought my heart would combust or beat out of my chest as she blew out a breath.
“Your daughter sustained major trauma to her body and is bleeding internally.”
“What does that mean?” Panic peppered my voice.
“We can’t find the source of the bleeding. She’s lost a lot of blood and needs a transfusion.”
“Then give her one,” I barked.
“There’s a problem.”
A giant lump formed in my throat. A problem? Drake squeezed my hand as I asked what it was.
“Your daughter has a very rare blood type. And the hospital doesn’t have any available. We’re looking for donors and calling local blood banks.”
Silently, I processed her words. I knew this when she was born, but truthfully had never thought much about it. Or ever thought it would be a matter of life or death.
“Is it AB negative?” Drake asked matter-of-factly.
Oh my God. How did he know this?
Returning her glasses to her nose, the doctor nodded. “Yes.”
Drake heaved a deep breath, his chest rising and falling. “That’s my type. Tell me where to go.”
Anxiously, I waited for Drake to return. The thought of losing my little girl consumed me—every breath, every heartbeat, every cell of my body. How could I live without her? She was my everything. I loved her more than life itself. A little voice in my head said don’t go there, but another kept screaming the worst possible scenario so loudly my head pounded. Closing my eyes, I rubbed my temples, trying to assuage the madness.
I so wanted Drake to come back. He was my only solace in the sea of despair that was drowning me, pulling me under. Thank God, he had the same rare blood type as Tyson. What were the chances of that? Maybe it was a sign from God that things would turn out okay. “Oh, please God, please,” I prayed softly. “Don’t take my sweet little girl from me. Please.” Tears seeped out of my eyes. “Oh God, do you hear me?”
The sound of footsteps broke into my prayers. Blinking my eyes open, I looked up. It was Drake.
He stopped midway; our eyes met, mine watering, his filled with worry. And then totally distraught, I sprung out of my seat and ran into his arms. The waterworks broke loose and I cried my heart out as he held me tightly. Stroking my hair as I soaked his shirt, he just let me cry for as long as I needed. Losing track of time, I cried until I could cry no more and then looked up at him with my stinging eyes.
His face pinched, he looked tense. Slowly, he tilted up my chin with his thumb. My voice thin and watery, I thanked him for donating his blood. A miracle of miracles.
He held me intensely in his gaze and then took a deep breath.
“Dee, does Donor 5262 mean anything to you?”
My heart practically stopped as my jaw dropped to the floor. The floor felt like it was going to open beneath me. My breath hitched in my throat, his words stunning me into silence. Oh my God!
Drake rubbed the bandage on his upper arm that was covering the site where they must have drawn his blood…Tyson’s blood.
“I need to eat something and we need to talk.”