Delores Fossen - Unexpected Father

Lilly tried to force her eyes to stay open. Hard to do, though. If the clock was accurate on her bed stand, it was already past midnight, the end of what had been one of the most exhausting days of her life.

She could blame the fatigue in part on the physical therapy that she’d demanded. A two-hour session. Grueling. Painful. Essentially she’d discovered during the session that her muscles felt like pudding and were just about as useful. It would take “lots of time and hard work,” the physical therapist had said, for her to regain complete use of her limbs.

Lilly didn’t mind the hard work, but she wouldn’t settle for the lots of time.

She planned to be walking by the end of the week.

It wasn’t exactly an option, either. She needed to be mobile so she could see her daughter. She wanted to start building a life with the child she hadn’t even known existed until six hours ago.

A child she already desperately loved.

She hugged the picture to her chest and tried to stave off the tears. She failed. They came anyway. Tears of joy and sadness. The joy was there because she had a precious little daughter. The sadness, because she’d already missed so much of her baby’s life.

She wouldn’t miss anything else.

Thanks to Jason, her baby had apparently been well cared for—by the last man on earth whom she thought would do her any favors. Of course, Megan was his flesh and blood, as well. Greg’s daughter. Jason’s niece. That was probably the real reason he’d stepped up to the fatherly plate. He’d loved his brother. Therefore, he’d love his brother’s child.

In spite of the fact that Megan was her child, too.

There was true irony in that. Her sworn enemy had her daughter. Not just had her, either. Jason was her legal custodian. A father by law. And he was the only parent Megan had ever known. It wouldn’t be easy for her to try to find her place in her baby’s life.

But she did have a place.

And no matter how hard it was, she would find it.

Her eyelids drifted down again, but she fought it. It was irrational, but the thought of sleep actually terrified her. Because she might not wake up. Because she might lapse into another coma and stay there. In a permanent vegetative state. Alive in name only.

“That won’t happen,” Dr. Staten had promised her when he’d checked on her after the physical therapy session.

However, Lilly hated to take the chance. Still, she couldn’t stop her eyes from shutting. She couldn’t stop the fatigue from taking over. And the quietness of the room and the night closed in around her.

Clutching her daughter’s picture, she drifted off to the one place she didn’t want to go: sleep.

She dreamed of walking, her hand gently holding her daughter’s. Of hope. Of a future Lilly hadn’t even known she’d wanted until she’d seen the photo of Megan. Her baby’s smile. Her eyes.

Then the dream changed.

It became dark and Lilly felt pressure on her face and chest. Painful, punishing pressure that made her feel as if her ribs were ready to implode.

She fought the dream, shaking her head from side to side. When that didn’t work, she shoved at the pressure with her hands and forced herself to wake up.

Her eyes flew open.

The darkness stayed.

So did the god-awful pressure.

It was unbearable. She couldn’t breath. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

It took a moment to understand why. The darkness and the pressure weren’t remnants of the dream. They were real. Very real. Because someone was shoving a pillow against her face. Suffocating her.

Someone wanted her dead.

The panic and the adrenaline knifed through Lilly, hot and raw. It was instant. Like a fierce jolt that consumed her. Fight or flight.

Do whatever it takes to survive.

Lilly managed to make a muffled, guttural sound. It wasn’t quite a scream, but she prayed it was loud enough to alert someone. Anyone. And she began to flail her arms at her attacker. She fought. Mercy, did she ever fight. She wouldn’t just let this SOB kill her. But her pudding-like muscles landed as helpless thuds on the much stronger hands that were smothering her.

Who was trying to kill her?

Better yet, how could she stop it from happening?

Even over the pounding of her heartbeat and the rough sounds of the struggle, she heard the footsteps. Frantic. Fast. Someone was coming.

Just like that, the pressure stopped. Lilly didn’t waste any time. She immediately shoved the pillow aside and, starved for air, gulped in several hard breaths so she wouldn’t lose consciousness.

She quickly looked around to make sure her attacker wasn’t still here. The room was pitch-black. Well, maybe. She couldn’t tell if the darkness was real or some leftover effect from nearly suffocating.

“I need help,” she called out.

The footsteps merged and blended with others, until Lilly was no longer able to distinguish which were coming and which were going.

“Hell,” someone said.

Jason.

He ran to her bed and looked down at her. He made a split-second check, probably to make sure she was still alive and well. The alive part was true, but it might be eternity before she could achieve the well part. She was shaking from head to toe and was on the verge of losing it.

Jason already had his standard-issue police Glock drawn, and he whipped his aim around the room. Ready to fire at the intruder.

But no one was there.

On the far end of the room, the window was open and the gauzy white curtains fluttered in the night breeze. It would have been a tranquil scene if a would-be killer hadn’t just used it as an escape route.

Jason raced to the window, and while still maintaining his vigilant cop’s stance, he checked outside. Cursed again. He used his cell phone to request assistance. His hard voice echoed through the room and her head.

“Are you okay?” he asked, hurrying back to her.

Lilly tried to take a quick inventory of her body. “I think so.” But she had no idea if that was true.

“We can’t stay here,” Jason informed her.

He reached down and scooped her into his arms. Not a loving act. Far from it. Clutching her against his chest, he rushed her out of the room. Probably in case her attacker returned.

A truly horrifying thought.

She didn’t want the person to get away, but Lilly wasn’t ready for round two, either. She was, however, ready for an explanation, and she was fairly sure that Jason was the person to give it to her.

“Earlier you were stalling about telling me something,” Lilly said. Her teeth began to chatter and she suspected she might be going into shock. Great. As if she didn’t have enough to deal with. Well, the shock would have to wait. She needed answers. “And I think that ‘something’ is important, that it has to do with what just happened.”

“Yeah.” Jason took her up the hall and to the deserted nurses’ station.

“Yeah?” she repeated, amazed and frustrated that he’d dodged her question once again. “The time for stalling is over, don’t you think?”

Jason deposited her onto a burgundy leather sofa in the small lounge just behind the nurses’ station. The cool, slick leather didn’t help with the chills that had already started.

With his own breath coming out in rough, frantic gusts, he glanced down at her. Just a glance. Before he turned his attention back to the doorway. Standing guard. Protecting her. Or rather, trying to.

“W-well?” Lilly prompted, curling up into as much of a fetal position as her stiff muscles would allow. “Don’t you have something to tell me? Wait—let me rephrase that. You have something to tell me, so do it.”

He nodded, eventually. “Your car accident probably wasn’t an accident.”