His Baby Her Gift: The Slow Burn Duology 2, LaShawn Vasser [best books to read for young adults txt] 📗

head on an endless loop. I came on around eleven, and she left out the front doors instead of the garage around eleven-fifteen. That’s why I figured she was with you.

Was James mistaken? Was this situation something other than an accident? Was he paranoid? Carter wasn’t sure. He didn’t voice any of his concerns to Harlem.

“I called your mom and dad. They’ll be up later today.”

“You called my mom and dad? Was that necessary?” Harlem frowned. “They are going to be worried out of their minds.”

“I did exactly what I would have wanted someone to do if I were in their shoes. Your condo hasn’t been deemed safe enough to return yet, so you’ll be staying with me until it is.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” Harlem said. “There was probably already a gas leak, and we just didn’t know it.”

“Maybe I am overacting, but that’s my prerogative.”

*****

Harlem had had enough. She was ready to go. “We’ve been at this hospital all day. What’s taking so long to get discharged?”

“It’s only one-thirty, Harlem,” Carter said calmly. “We haven’t been here all day.”

“It feels like it.”

“I’m going to need you to relax. Dr. Jones will release you after he’s sure you’re good to go.”

Harlem was anxious. She just wanted to get into Carter’s bed and go to sleep. Hospitals were the absolute worst place to rest. “They already told me that the baby’s fine. If she’s fine. Then, so am I.”

“You do realize you’re acting like a spoiled two-year-old, right?”

“I just think this is overkill. Knowing you, you’re probably in cahoots with Dr. Jones in holding me hostage.”

“Yep. That’s exactly it.” Carter shook his head.

His phone buzzed. He had been ignoring it all day and hadn’t looked at it since everything happened the night before. Carter figured now would be a great time to check messages. Several were from his assistant, several from an unknown caller, one from his mother, and two more from an unknown caller.

Charlotte rarely ever called him. It was unusual to see her number on the screen. Something told Carter to listen to her message. However, before he could play his voice-mails, Dr. Jones strolled into their room. “Harlem Thomas. How are you feeling?”

Finally! She screamed inwardly. However, her actual response was much more subdued. “I’m more than a little ready to go home.”

He smiled broadly. “I think we can make that a reality. It took a little longer than I would have liked for your final test results to come through, but all appears to be well. You can go home, but I want to see you in my office in one week.”

Harlem nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Good. I know it’s been a long night. So, I’ve already signed the discharge papers.”

Carter shook his hand, and so did Harlem. A nurse appeared out of nowhere with a wheelchair.

“I don’t need that.” She said.

“It’s regulation.” Dr. Jones responded. “You’ve got to sit in it.”

“Sit. Down. Harlem.” Carter said firmly. He gave her a look that clearly said, I will do it for you if you don’t sit voluntarily.

Harlem returned Carter’s look with a frustrated one of her own. However, she did sit down in the chair.

He ignored her as they made their way to the front entrance. Once they arrived, Carter pulled his keys out of his back pocket. “I’ll go get the car.”

Carter wanted to make a few phone calls and didn’t want to do it in front of her. As he walked over to his car, he lifted his cell and was reminded that he had a message from his mother. Contact with Charlotte twice in one year. It had to be some kind of record. His knee-jerk reaction was to ignore it, but something else told him to listen.

Carter clicked on the message. His initial reaction to the sound of her voice stopped him cold. Charlotte sounded anxious and . . . scared.

“Carter! Please call me as soon as you get this. I think Elaina is danger–”

He heard the sound of something crashing as her voice trailed off. “Shit!” Immediately, Carter hung up and dialed up his mother. This time the call went straight to voice-mail. “What the hell is going on?” Carter had a sinking suspicion that his mother’s call and what happened to Harlem the night before was linked.

He tried her one more time and again the phone went to voice-mail. Carter took a moment to think. “The unknown calls.” Quickly, he listened to one of the messages sent from that number. It had been left at eight-fifteen that morning.

“Mr. Owen. You have been listed as next of kin for Charlotte Owens-Du Mont-Tillis. I am calling to inform you that she was brought into Loyola University Hospital. It is urgent that you return my call.”

Carter was standing in Loyola University Hospital’s parking lot. Quickly, he pivoted and ran back toward the entrance.

*****

Harlem couldn’t help but reminisce about the last time she’d been in this hospital. She stood at the emergency room doors waiting for an Uber. Harlem knew when she scheduled it that she wasn’t going to take it.

Carter was pissed because she’d gone out for a craving and was carjacked. The edges of her lips curled up as she thought back on that night–not because she had been carjacked, but because it was a pivotal moment in their relationship.

It felt like a lifetime ago but was really only months.

Harlem was brought out of her thoughts when her wheelchair was bumped from behind. Before she could turn around, she was warned not to.

“Don’t. Do not turn around.”

Harlem would