Because of the Accident (Book 1)

Chapter 7

Two weeks later...

The baby's cries pierced the quiet of my townhome like a siren cutting through the night. I jolted awake, my heart hammering in my chest as though it had been catapulted out of a dream and into a storm. The seconds dragged, long and torturous, as the wailing reverberated through the house. She was screaming again, that sharp, high-pitched sound that made every nerve in my body vibrate with urgency. It was as if she knew how desperately I wanted—no, needed—her to be okay. How I needed to be the one to make her okay.

I scrambled to the kitchen, fumbling in the dim light as I reached for the canister of formula. My hands shook as I pried the lid off, trying to remember the exact measurements. Was it one scoop? Two? Or maybe I needed more water this time? God, why did they make this so complicated? My thoughts spiraled as I realized I hadn't slept in nearly 48 hours. The exhaustion made everything harder. Even thinking straight was a battle. The loud, insistent cries from upstairs didn't help either.

"It's okay, little Miracle, I'm coming!" I called out, hoping my voice would somehow reassure her, calm her tiny heart as much as I needed to calm mine. But no, her wails only grew louder, echoing off the walls like an alarm, ricocheting around the house. My pulse quickened as panic surged. Damn, babies cried a lot.

I mixed the formula with hurried, clumsy hands, the liquid sloshing in the bottle as I shook it. I sprinted up the stairs, each step feeling like an eternity, her cries propelling me forward. But just as I reached the top step, my foot slipped. Time seemed to slow down as I lost my balance, tumbling backward. I flailed my arms, trying desperately to grasp something—anything—but gravity won. I landed hard, the impact driving the breath from my lungs, leaving me sprawled at the foot of the stairs, gasping like a fish out of water.

I lay there for a moment, dazed and confused, staring up at the ceiling. Pain shot through my back, and my head spun as I tried to orient myself. But despite the ache in my body, the only thought that registered was Miracle. I needed to get to her.

Two weeks ago, when I first brought her home, things had been even worse. The chaos had been relentless. I hadn't had a clue what I was doing, and Miracle had been just as clueless, her tiny life depending entirely on me. The thought had been suffocating. I'd had to leave her with Miranda and Charles, Autumn's parents, while I dashed to the store in a frenzy. I hadn't even bought the basics before, too lost in the whirlwind of grief and shock that had swallowed my life. Diapers, wipes, formula, bottles—it all hit me at once when I walked into the store. The endless aisles of baby supplies had loomed like a maze of uncertainty, each product screaming my incompetence back at me.

I remembered standing there, staring helplessly at the shelves, my head spinning. Why did there have to be a hundred different types of bottles? Did it really matter which one I chose? How could something as simple as a baby's bottle feel like a life-or-death decision?

When I finally made it to the checkout line, the total flashed on the register, and I felt my stomach drop. It was all my savings, wiped out in an instant. Why hadn't I planned better? I should have prepared for this moment, but all I felt was the weight of responsibility crashing down on me. I had made the rookie mistake of assuming that being a parent would come naturally.

And by the time I made it back home that day, I was a sweaty, panicked mess. The bags of supplies weighed down my arms, and I held Miracle awkwardly in one arm, trying to juggle it all as I stumbled toward the front door. I could feel the exhaustion in every fiber of my body. But then it happened—she slipped. One moment, I had her, and the next, I didn't. My heart stopped as I watched her fall from my grip. It was only pure, dumb luck that I managed to catch her before she hit the ground. I would've never forgiven myself if something had happened to her that day.