Page 3 of Under the Same Sky

The nurse looks back at the theatre doors and then back at me. “There were a few complications. Unfortunately, Mrs. Decker suffered a placental abruption, and hemorrhaged. She lost too much blood, and we couldn’t save her.”

We couldn’t save her.

We couldn’t save her.

We couldn’t save her.

I collapse to the ground, let out a strangled sound, and lose it, struggling to breath, struggling to think, struggling to make sense of this chaos.

Ryan and Melissa are both gone. What kind of hell is this?

And neither of them had the chance to meet their son. God, they wanted to meet their baby before giving him or her a name, and now…

The nurse helps me stand, walks me to a chair, and grabs me some water. When I eventually calm down—it takes a while—I walk down to the morgue, confirm Ryan’s identity, say goodbye, and then Melissa’s beside him. I say goodbye to her too, and it feels like I’ve been split in two. No one ushers me out the morgue, no one asks me if I’m okay, no one asks me if they can call family on my behalf. Mentally, I know there are a few people I should call. Ryan’s mom, Maggie, Thorin, some of our friends in town. No family for Melissa though, we were her family. Her parents died when she was in her senior year of high school, and she was an only child, and Ryan and Thorin’s dad, Eli, passed away three years ago. Their mom lives in Florida with her sister now.

Shit.

I need to call her.

And then I have to call Thorin.

A knock on the door startles me, and I look up. Imani’s features soften. “He’s ready for you.” He doesn’t even have a name. But as of two days ago, after meeting with Child Protective Services, I’m the guardian of a five day old little boy, and right now, I’m all he has. Technically, Thorin could be his guardian now too, since he’s the baby’s godfather, but that’s something I’ll have to deal with when I see him. I pick up the car seat I brought with me, along with the diaper bag, and follow Imani, my heart in my throat. “The little man is drinking half an ounce of milk right now which is good, and when he starts wanting more, you’ll know,” she tells me, and I file the information away like I have everything else. “And it seems the only time he cries is when he’s hungry, or when his diaper needs to be changed. He’s an easy baby, so I doubt you’ll have much trouble with him.”

I’ve been here every day this week, and luckily he was only in the incubator for two days. Because he was premature, they had him under a UV light to increase blood flow, and prevent him from getting jaundice. Besides that, Imani is right, he is an easy baby.

Damnit, he needs a name.

After I place everything next to a sofa in the nursery, Imani stops next to one of those small bassinets and brings my godson to me. She delicately places him in my arms, and the moment I reach to touch his face, my finger is in his hand. This isn’t right, Melissa and Ryan should be the ones doing this. But they’re not here, and they both entrusted their baby’s life to me, should anything ever happen to them. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Or like this. Or ever for that matter because Ryan and Melissa were supposed to live until they were old and gray, surrounded by their grandchildren.

“Hi, little man,” I coo, trying to keep my voice gentle and soothing. “I finally get to take you home today.” He gazes up at me, and all I see is Melissa’s dark hair, her pouty little lips, and shocking blue eyes, like Thorin’s. I know they’ll change, hopefully to either green like Ryan’s, or brown like Mel’s. He’s the perfect mix of both of them, and it only makes the crack in my heart widen, the wound yawning like a living, breathing thing inside me. Seconds later, he’s asleep, and stays that way when I place him in the carrier. Imani hugs me one more time.

“Reese, I can only imagine what you’re going through right now, but you’ll be just fine. We’re all in shock, Melissa and Ryan will both be dearly missed.” Her eyes mist over, and she sniffles before handing me a piece of paper with a number on it. “I don’t usually do this, but here’s my personal number. I want you to call me if you have any questions or need anything at all, day or night. I’ll see you at the memorial service.”

“Thank you. For everything.” I start for the elevators, and look down. “Time to go home.”

Chapter Two

Thorin

“Thank you, New York!” I yell into the mic, the crowd going wild. “We want to thank y’all for supporting us, for buying the new album, and for being here tonight. We’ve had a great tour, and we have all of you to thank for that.” The guys step forward, and another round of yells and screams float up and around Madison Square Garden. God, being back on home ground feels good. “Thank you, and goodnight.” We wave, and quickly make our way off stage, sweaty and on a high.

“Shit,” Benji, our back-up guitarist, sighs, shaking out his mane of black hair. “That was insane!”

“Best show on the tour, man,” Fletch, our drummer, replies, still bouncing on his feet. He’s the first to whip off his shirt, and hell if I’m not tempted to do the same. I’m hot as fuck after being under those damn lights for so long, but it was worth it. Every single second.

“Totally killed it.” This comes from our bass guitarist, Carson. He pulls his fingers through his blonde hair, and high-fives Fletch. “That crowd was intense.”

“Guys.” Our manager, Alex, approaches, a broad grin on his face. “You made your last show your best one to-date.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Fletch teases, bumping fists with Alex. He might look like a stiff in his Armani suit, but he’s a good friend, and a fucking brilliant manager. Strict when he needs to be, but he’s never done anything but look out for us, even when we’ve disagreed with him. “You guys going to party tonight? I need to know if I must get extra security for the rooms.”

“Fuck yeah!” Benji yells. “I need to get me some hot pussy!”

I shake my head, and laugh. “You’re an ass.”

“He’s right though,” Carson says. “I need to get laid before I fucking explode.”

You’d never think we are in our mid-twenties with the way we behave after a show. It’s more like a bunch of high school gnats who always have sex on the brain. Not that I can judge. I’ve had my fair share of groupies, but for the last few years, I’ve hung back, and chilled out more. The guys, on the other hand, behave like heathens.