Page 10 of Doctor Holliday

Chapter 5

Thursday,December 7th

Lucy

Lucy stepped out of the postpartum room and stood for a moment to get her bearings. She had delivered so many babies. She’d seen babies born into happy families, parents thrilled to be welcoming a baby. And she’d seen young, unwed mothers who had delivered and given their babies up for adoption. She had even seen a few mothers—married and unwed—give birth while handcuffed to the rail of their bed and then be whisked away to jail on drug charges.

She had delivered babies to very young mothers before, but Logan might be the first fourteen-year-old girl Lucy had guided through labor and delivery. She sucked in a deep breath now, faces in her mind of young girls she had seen at the clinic—there for birth control or abortions or treatment for sexually transmitted diseases. It had taken a bit for her to not think about Callie anytime she had a patient her age or younger, but Lucy was a professional.

Tonight, though. Logan. This one blew her mind.

She made her way down the hall on weak knees that had nothing to do with kneeling on cement earlier. Logan’s baby girl had arrived tiny—just over five pounds and only eighteen inches long—but she appeared healthy. Thankfully, Thatcher had called 911, and the EMTs were there waiting to take the baby and Logan to Eastport. Lucy had climbed into the ambulance with the girl who reached for her hand and squeezed hard enough Lucy thought her fingers might break.

Once at Eastport, Logan had been examined in the ER and taken to a postpartum room on the thirteenth floor. Lucy had been torn about handing her over to Dr. Love; she wanted to stay with the girl and make sure she was okay. But she knew Dr. Love would take good care of her, too. Not to mention, she had her own child to get home to. Never mind that Callie was grown; times like these, Lucy wanted to smother her daughter with love.

She hit the release bar on the door at the front of the maternity ward and sailed out intending to go straight home. But a flash of movement in the waiting room caught her attention.

Blue and red plaid. Worn denim. Work boots. Thick dark hair mussed as if he had been running his fingers through it constantly.

“Hey.” It was Keaton Thatcher. His warm brown eyes were bloodshot and droopy, and the skin under them was dark with exhaustion. There was a smear of blood on his jeans, but he didn’t seem remotely concerned about it.

“Hey. What’re you doing here?”

He arched his thick brows in disbelief. “Really? A kid just has a kid in my stockroom, and you wonder what I’m doing here?”

Lucy nodded and sucked in a deep breath.

“Do you know her?”

“No.” He shook his head.

Lucy had heard part of Logan’s story. Not a good home life, but according to the girl, it was more neglect than abuse. Not her father or stepbrother who had assaulted her. In fact, she claimed no one hadassaultedher. That she had willingly taken her clothes off and let her stepbrother’s friends do what they wanted to prove she was cool. That she was sexy. That she could hang.

It made Lucy’s skin crawl. Lost in Logan’s recounting of the afternoon when she’d had sex with four older teenage boys, she didn’t notice the way the guy was pacing the hospital corridor now.

“You don’t think I had anything to do with that?—”

“No.” Lucy shut him down with a quick shake of her head. “No. She’s with a DCYF investigator right now. She told them she just found your door unlocked and ducked inside because she was cold and didn’t feel well.”

Gaze locked with hers, the guy clenched his teeth and nodded. “Didn’t feel well. Jesus. She was in labor. What the hell was she doing so far out by herself anyway?”

“What the hell was she doing spreading her legs—” Lucy bit her tongue and shook her head.

“I know. You can’t tell me the circumstances.” He nodded. “I understand. I just wanted to make sure she and the baby are okay.”

Lucy huffed out a sigh and rolled her head on her neck.

“Yes, both of them are okay.”

“Thank God.” The little prayer of thanks sounded exceptionally grumbly. Lucy got it. She felt it to her soul.

“Um.” She gave herself a mental shake. “Thank you. For calling me. Though I’m not sure how you got my number?—”

“Called Alyssa.”

He had called his ex-wife rather than just calling 911.

“You could have just?—”