𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘: Bronny James

39

Bronny's POV:

I grabbed my car keys off the counter, glancing at the clock. It was barely noon, and I was already running late to the hospital. My thoughts were racing—Jeanie's call earlier had been a lot to process. She might have cystic fibrosis? I didn't even know how to wrap my head around that. I needed to be there.

As I headed for the door, I heard the clink of dishes in the kitchen. Mom was sitting at the table with Zhuri, who was happily munching on some cereal. Mom glanced up when she saw me, a curious look on her face.

"You woke up a little late today. Want me to make you something to eat before you go?" she asked, standing like she was ready to whip something up on the spot.

"Nah, I'm good, Mom. Thanks." I said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

"You sure? If you're getting your blood drawn, you shouldn't skip breakfast," she added.

"I'll grab something later," I promised, then turned to Zhuri. She looked up at me with those big brown eyes.

"Where are you going, Bronny?" she asked.

"To the hospital," I said, stroking her hair gently. "I've got to check on my daughter."

Zhuri's eyes lit up. "It's a girl?! When can I meet her??"

"Soon," I said, pulling her into a quick hug. "She's really tiny now, but I'll bring pictures for you later, okay?"

"Okay!" she said, smiling.

I gave Mom a quick wave before heading out the door, my mind already back on my daughter.

•••

When I got to the hospital, I parked quickly and rushed inside, heading straight for the NICU. I checked in at the front desk and followed the nurse's direction to the Level 3 NICU. The room was quiet, the beeping of monitors were the only sound.

I saw Taylor sitting next to the incubator, her face pale and tired. She looked up when I entered, and I gave her a small nod before stepping closer. Then I saw her—my daughter.

She was so small, hooked up to wires and tubes, but her little chest was moving up and down steadily. I felt a lump form in my throat.

"What's her name?" I asked softly, my eyes glued to her tiny face.

"Juliet Marie James," Taylor said. "But we call her Julie."

"Juliet Marie James," I repeated, letting the name sink in. "That's beautiful."

Taylor gave a small smile, and for a moment, there was silence between us as we both looked at Julie.

"Mr James?" A voice interrupted us, and I turned to see a woman in a white coat approaching. She had a kind but serious expression on her face.

"Yes, that's me," I said, stepping back slightly.

"I'm Dr. Avery," she said, holding out her hand. I shook it, trying to keep my nerves in check.

She explained everything—how Julie was doing better than expected, but they needed to test for cystic fibrosis. She broke down the process of testing for the CFTR gene mutation and what it could mean for Julie's future. I listened carefully, nodding along, though my mind felt like it was spinning.