I cupped her face in my hands, placing one kiss to her forehead. "What happened to her?"

Her head shook. "She hemorrhaged."

"And your father couldn't save her, right?" She said nothing. "So he's only blaming himself. Believe me. If you believe nothing else, believe me when I tell you I know what it's like to have a father who blames himself every day for not being able to save the person he loved most. The only difference between us is that your father was gifted a punching bag. Well, that and you look much better in short dresses than I ever would."

She laughed sadly. "You would be an ugly woman. I'll give you that."

I smiled. "Give me your hand, too."

She watched me as I kissed her fingers. I wanted to hug her, to hold her, but I knew better than to push. Kissing her hand was too much.

We shared a sunset from the top of Belvedere Castle, where, on the way down the steps, Everly Anne turned around, three steps below me, and asked, "Do you like how short my dress is today?"

And I replied in the dim light of the stairwell, "I like how bright your eyes are today."

We Were Caught Up Like That I stared down at a wailing newborn as Tatum stood beside me. "I wish I could say something different, but you need to up his dosage of morphine. He's in too much pain. His tremors are getting worse." Two skinny legs trembled involuntarily, laced with opiates from his birth mother. A string of silent curses wrapped around my inner thoughts as I watched the baby wale in agony and confusion. I left the room before the morphine was administered.

The only bright spot in my day stood outside of the neonatal care doors. But unfortunately brightness was faded around the edges, dressed in blue hospital socks too big for her feet and an ugly green gown draped around her shoulders, tied tightly just to keep it on her small frame. Everly's smile faded as she admired my face, eyes connected. But she was wrong about my expression-it wasn't for her, not even half. She was up and walking around which equaled "okay" despite the unknown reason to her being in the hospital. Baby R, on the other hand, clung to his life like the gown around her shoulders.

"Hi," she said softly, as if she was unsure if she was the cause of my irritation.

"Everly Anne," I returned.

"Is it all right that I'm here?"

"It's always all right."

"You look unhappy."

"Understatement."

She touched my arm. "Will you tell me?"

"You know, I can tolerate a lot. I've seen babies born disfigured. I've witnessed people die. But one thing I can't ..." I scrubbed my hands over my face. "It's one thing when a mother does everything she should during pregnancy and something simply goes horribly wrong, but when someone purposely harms their child and then I watch those babies suffer because of that . . . it tests my empathy and sanity in a way I can't describe without probably scaring you."

Everly watched my face. "A baby was hurt by their mom? How?"

"Drugs," I replied, "Born addicted to Oxycodone."

"Will the baby live?"

"I don't know. He's not detoxing because I can't wean him because he's in too much pain. I actually had to raise his morphine tonight because he's in agony, but I should be weaning him by this point."

"What will happen to him? I mean . . . is his mom around?"

"That's the part that angers me the most. Usually the parent's provide me with some type of motivation . . . even though that sounds screwed up . . . but I mean I feel like I'm working on the same team, you know? But in these cases, I feel like I'm taking what they ruined and handing this kid back to them so they can ruin it all over again. Maybe that's harsh or not very positive, but that's how it feels. I don't want to cheer for these cases, do you know what I mean?"

"I think your job is to make someone better- so do that - and you've accomplished something regardless of what happens in the future. That's not your burden to bear."

"What if one of these babies grows up to become someone who wishes they didn't live? What if they become an addict themselves and end up ruining someone's life? What if they do it to their own kid someday?"

Everly stared at me. "Do you think every healthy baby grows up to be a solid human being just because they started out on a good path? You can't wonder about this stuff, Callum. You fix. You heal. That's all."

I felt pulled away from Everly, as if something slid between us. "I expected you to say something different."

"Like what? Take him home and raise him?" She nearly laughed.

"You just sound dismissive, like it doesn't matter what happens to him. I didn't expect you to be . . . I don't know . . . callous? You're always so sweet and soft."

"I know what's gonna happen to him," she said. "It's not the baby I'm concerned about because he's got a good doctor looking after him, standing outside the Yellow Heart Wing pondering his future. The doctor on the other hand . . . I'm a little worried about him. He's doing something unexpected. He's being human."

And just like that I was pulled back to familiar ground.

And her smile mirrored mine at the exact same moment. We're caught up like that. For the smallest millisecond, we were far away like that.