All My Books (And Where To Find Them)

Collateral Damage (Book 1 of Love Is War Series)

Prologue

"Sir, please! You are going to have to allow the doctors to work!" a nurse cried at the hysterical man trying to fight his way past them to get to his pregnant wife.

"But I need to see her! I should be with her when my baby's born!" the man cried out in desperation.

"Nurse Kelley! Inside now, call security if you need to, but please—"

"Doctor! She's hemorrhaging!" another voice called out.

"I need more towels!"

"OR 3 is ready for you, Doctor."

The myriad of voices overlapped one another until Bryant Anderson, husband of Adelina (née Perez) Anderson, couldn't make out any words or their meanings.

"Daddy?" a small voice called from near the desperate man's knee.

Bryant looked down to see the young face of his three-year-old son, Drew, looking up at him. The boy's cheeks were streaked with tears, scared and unaware of precisely what was happening. All the little boy knew was that they were in a big white building that smelled funny, and his daddy was acting strangely. The whole situation frightened him.

The little boy had not a clue as to why they were wheeling his mother into another room. He only knew he had a little sister coming and that she was in his mommy's tummy, but the blood that was splattered in the car and at home didn't mean much to him except that mommy may have gotten herself a booboo. A big booboo at that.

"Drew, my big man." Bryant bent down to pick up the child. "Let's go on over to the waiting room to wait until Mommy and your little sister are ready to see us." If they ever are ready, he thought to himself as he choked back a sob.

"What's sissy's name?" little Drew asked. He'd hoped he'd get to help pick out a name for her. Something like Stegosaurus or Angelica Pickles. Drew was a big fan of both The Rugrats and dinosaurs.

"Don't know yet, buddy," Bryant told the little boy tiredly. "Your mommy wanted to name her Muse, but Daddy thinks that's a little too weird."

"Moose?"

"Muse," his father corrected, enunciating the letters carefully for him. "A 'moose' is a big animal you see up north. 'Muse' is something much more special."

"How's it speciaw?" the little boy asked, climbing onto his father's lap.

"You see, a 'muse' is like someone who helps you do something," his father told him.

"Wike when you hewped me leawn how to wide my twikey?" Just last week the little boy had finally mastered the ways of riding his big-boy tricycle. He had been puffed up for hours with the monumental achievement.

"A little bit, yeah," his father admitted. Drew was pretty smart for having just turned 3.

"Awe you my moose then, Daddy?" the little guy asked.

"I'll be whatever you need me to be, bud," his father told him, holding back another wretched sob.

***

It seemed like days had passed since his wife had been taken back to the operating room. In all actuality, it may have only an hour or so. He couldn't tell anymore. Every time he'd looked to his watch to check the time, the dials blurred. He eventually gave up on it, unlatching it from his wrist before flinging it across the waiting room where it now lay in pieces beneath a chair in the corner by the muted television.