by Street, K.
“Is that how you cut your foot? On the glass?”
My brows dipped, my gaze dropping to my feet. I lifted my right foot and then the left, examining them. Sure enough, the bottom of my left foot was bleeding. “Yes. I-I guess so. I didn’t even realize I’d cut it.”
“What’s Molly’s last name?” He didn’t look up from the electronic pad he was taking notes on.
I cleared my throat. “Davenport.”
“And her date of birth?”
“February 26, 1995.”
My eyes were focused back on Molly as the EMTs took her blood pressure and put a clear tube in her nose.
Troy slipped on a pair of gloves and began cleaning up the cut on my foot. “It’s not deep, so you aren’t going to need stitches.” He put a bandage on my foot and discarded his gloves.
On shaky legs, I slid from the stool, my eyes trained on Molly.
Please be okay.
Molly’s green eyes fluttered open, and she let out a groan.
“Molls. Oh my God. You scared the shit out of me.”
Panic crossed her features. She didn’t have to say the words for me to know she was worried about the baby.
“It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine,” I assured her.
Troy looked at me. “We’re taking her to Washington Memorial.”
I stepped closer, giving Molly’s hand a squeeze before they took her. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise.” I moved out of the way and helplessly watched them head toward the door with my best friend.
I frantically searched for my cell phone before realizing it was in my back pocket. I needed shoes and my purse, and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember where I’d set my car keys.
I closed my eyes and then sucked in a few calming breaths, knowing I needed to pull it together so I could get to Molly.
Five minutes later, with shoes on my feet and keys in hand, I got in my car. With trembling hands, I gripped the steering wheel and drove to the hospital.
Worry consumed me, tying my stomach in knots. What-ifs circled my head the way water circled a drain.
When I finally arrived at Washington Memorial, I parked in the emergency lot and headed toward the ER entrance. The wide glass doors slid open, and the smell of antiseptic assaulted my nose. I walked up to the window and waited for the dark-haired woman behind the little glass enclosure to give me her attention.
“Yes?” Her tone was curt.
“Molly Davenport. She just came in via ambulance. Can you tell me where she is?”
“Are you related to the patient?”
I answered without even thinking, “Yes. She’s my sister.”
She turned her focus to the computer and started typing. After a few clicks, she returned her gaze to me. “She’s in curtain eight. I’ll buzz you in.”
“Thank you so much.” I hurried to the double solid wood doors and waited for them to open.
Once I was inside, my eyes flitted over the space. Medical equipment lined portions of the wall. Several people dressed in light-blue scrubs seemed to move in every direction. Glancing toward the ceiling, I saw the numbers over each curtained-off area. My feet moved of their own accord as I searched for curtain number eight.
I swallowed down my anxiety and forced a neutral expression.
“Paige.” Relief washed over Molly’s face as I rounded the corner.
“Hey.”
Tears lingered in the corners of her eyes. Molly was one of the strongest people I’d ever known, and seeing her on the brink of breaking made my heart hurt.
She wore a hospital gown. A white blood-pressure cuff had been affixed to her upper left arm. I glanced at the numbers on the screen, trying to decipher what they meant and not having a clue.
I stepped to Molly’s side and reached for her hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
“The baby.” Unadulterated fear laced her words.
“What about the baby? Do they know anything yet?”
Molly shook her head. “Someone is getting a portable ultrasound, and they’re hooking up a fetal heart monitor.”
“Okay. That’s good. Just breathe, Molls.”
The tears she tried desperately to hold back slipped from her eyes.
A friendly-looking nurse pushed a machine into the small space.
“Hi, Molly. I’m Daria. I’m going to hook up the fetal monitor.”
I moved out of the way to give the nurse room to work.
Please be okay.
My silent prayer was answered when the baby’s strong heartbeat hit my ears.
Two hours later, after the ultrasound confirmed that the little peanut was safe and sound, Molly was moved to a private room on the Labor and Delivery floor. Her blood pressure was a little high, and Dr. Wilson, her obstetrician, wanted to keep her at least overnight for observation and to run a few tests—in part to determine why she’d passed out and to check on her blood pressure. According to the doctor, Molly didn’t have a concussion, but she did have one nasty goose egg.
I sat in the chair next to my best friend, watching her sleep. I needed to call my dad to see if I could push my London trip. I knew he was counting on me, and there wasn’t anyone else who could fill in, but it was worth a shot.
Molly blinked her eyes several times before opening them. She let out a yawn, fixing her gaze on me. “You’re still here.”
“Well, duh. Where else would I be?”
“Well, you should be packing for London.”
“I’m going to call Dad and see if I can delay the trip.”
Molly shook her head. “You and I both know that really isn’t an option. I’m fine.” Her hand dropped to her stomach. “We are fine. I promise.”
I hated the idea of leaving her alone. “Maybe you should call—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence.”
“All right.” I wasn’t going to push. At least, not now.
“Go home.” Before I could protest, Molly continued, “Don’t argue.”
“Fine. I’m going. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.” She gave me a tired smile. “Now, go.”
“God, you’re so bossy.” I leaned in and gave her a hug. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
* * *
Later, when I got home, I went into Molly’s room with the intention of packing a bag to take to her tomorrow morning. My gaze landed on her phone. I knew Molly’s passcode, and she knew mine. Before I could talk myself out of it, I picked up her phone, unlocked it, and then scrolled through her Contacts, stopping when I landed on Easton’s number.
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my own phone, and started to dial. It was late but not that late, considering it was a Saturday night.
Easton answered on the third ring, “Hello?”
“Easton, it’s Paige. I know it’s late, but Molly—”
“Is this a joke? Are you doing her dirty work now?”
Oh, hell to the no!
“Listen, asshole. Can you get over yourself for five seconds? She’s in the hospital.”
The line went quiet for several beats.
“Easton?”
“I’m here.” The hard edge was absent from his tone. “Is she okay? Where is she?”
“Washington Memorial. She passed out and hit her head. They’re running some tests.”
And she’s pregnant. I didn’t say that last part aloud. It wasn’t my story to tell.
Eleven
Easton
“She passed out and hit her head. They’re running some tests.”
Her words cracked something in my chest. The past. How Molly had destroyed me. None of that mattered now because I was completely consumed by the innate need to get to her.
“I’m on my way.” I shot off the couch and went into my room.
“Visiting hours are over.”
Inside my closet, I grabbed a black duffel bag from one shelf and a pair of folded jeans from another. “What’s your point?”
“She needs her rest. They won’t let you see her anyway.”
Shit.
Paige was right. Molly wasn’t my wife, my fiancée, or even my girlfriend.
“I’ll be there first thing in the morning.” I dropped the bag I had been packing onto the floor.
“I’ll meet you in the hospital lobby at eight.”
“I’ll see you then.” After a beat, I added, “Thanks for letting me know.”
“You’re welcome.” With that, she hung up the phone.
I tossed my cell onto the mattress and then sat on the edge of the bed. Leaning over, I braced my elbows on my knees and lowered my head.
“I don’t want you. I don’t love you.”
The words still haunted me. But loving Molly wasn’t a choice. It wasn’t something I could shut off, no matter how hard I had tried or how many women I had buried myself in since then or how big of an asshole I was or how many times I had slammed the door in her face. If she needed me, I’d be there.
When it came to Molly, no was never an option.
* * *
I was already waiting in the lobby of Washington Memorial when Paige arrived.
She walked toward me, carrying a small overnight bag. The dark circles under her eyes rivaled my own.
“Ready?” she asked.
I nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.
The elevator up to the fourth floor was quiet.
As the doors slid open and we exited, Paige turned to me. “Do you mind waiting while I go in first?”
“Why?” The guilty expression on Paige’s face told me all I needed to know. “Molls doesn’t know I’m here, does she?”
“I’m leaving for London this afternoon for work. I tried to push the trip back, but it isn’t possible. There’s no one else to fill in, and I couldn’t just leave her.”
“And I guess that’s where I come in?”
“Exactly.”
I followed behind Paige, stopping when we came to Molly’s room. She went in while I waited in the hall. After a few minutes, Paige pulled open the door just slightly and then turned back to Molly.
“I love you. I’ll call you when I land.”
“All right. Be safe. Shag a sexy Brit while you’re over there.”
The corners of my mouth slightly tipped up.
Paige laughed. “I plan to.” She hesitated for a second and then said, “Molly, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Paige shrugged. “You know what they say; it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
“Why are you being so cryptic?” Molly asked, and I imagined she was rolling her eyes.
“Just remember, I love you, and I’m your favorite human.” Paige exited the room and fixed her eyes on me. Her voice was low as she spoke, “She needs you. Whether she’ll admit it or not, she does. Take care of her.”
“I will,” I promised and knew it was one I would keep.
“You’d better. Or so help me God, Chadwick, I’ll kick your ass.” Then, she walked away.
My hand rested on the door handle for a few seconds before I walked in.
Molly’s caramel-brown strands stood out against the white pillow. She lay on her left side, facing away from me. The remnants of her breakfast sat on the tray table. It looked as though she had barely touched it.
“Did you forget something?”
I approached her hospital bed, halting when I reached the foot. “Hey, Firefly.”
Molly rolled onto her back and pushed herself into a sitting position. “Easton?” Her eyes widened. It was more than shock … she looked panicked. “What are you doing here?”
My gaze raked over her body in a slow perusal. From the contusion on her forehead to the dark half-moons beneath her eyes. Then lower to her chest, which rose and fell with every intake of her breath. My eyes dipped to her stomach. Even beneath the blankets bunched around her, I clearly saw the bulge of her abdomen.
I took in the machines near the head of the bed. One of them tracked her blood pressure, and the other one wasn’t turned on, but it looked like some sort of monitor. There was an IV pole with a bag of clear fluid hanging from it. Saline dripped into one end of the plastic tube while the other end was affixed to a needle in Molly’s arm.
My eyes snapped to her face. “Are you …” Pain twisted my gut. “You are.” Anger rose to the surface, and the desire to punch a wall had my hands curling into fists. “Is this why I’m here?” I pointed an accusatory finger at her belly. “Is that what Paige meant when she said you needed me?”
“She didn’t tell you?” Molly shook her head. “Of course she didn’t tell you.”
“Where’s the father?” I gritted out.
Molly’s head whipped back as though she’d been slapped. “What did you just say?”
I gripped the end of the bed and leaned forward. “You heard me. I’m pretty sure the bastard who knocked you up should be the one standing here. So, where the fuck is he?” I glared at her.
“Get out.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“You son of a bitch. Get out! Get the fuck out! Now!”
White-hot rage burned inside me. I wanted to break something.
She was right. I had to leave. If I didn’t get the fuck out of here, I was going to lose my shit.
Without another look in her direction, I stalked out of the room and exited into the hall, making a beeline for the elevators. Only I didn’t have the patience, and I was in no mood to wait around. I opted for the stairwell. The echo of my shoes pounding against each concrete step only seemed to amplify the blood rushing between my ears. I burst through the door into the main lobby, made my way to the parking lot and got in my truck.
“Fuck!” I roared while I hammered the end of my fist on the steering wheel over and over.
Then, I started the engine and drove without any idea of where I was going.
Thirty minutes later, I found myself pulling into a gravel lot. I stared out the windshield, watching a woman push a child on a swing. The woman reminded me of Molly.
Molly is pregnant.
She’s pregnant.
Those words ran on a loop. Growing louder and louder. Annihilating me a little more each time.
I needed to clear my head, so I got out of the truck and strolled through the park. It wasn’t until I made a full lap around the tree-lined path that my steps faltered.
That night in Atlanta flashed like neon. Her visit to Maplewood Falls. The phone calls.
“I’m pretty sure the bastard who knocked you up should be the one standing here. So, where the fuck is he?”
It was me.
I was the bastard. I was also the idiot who had just royally fucked up.
Twelve
Molly
Furious tears pricked my eyes. Before I could stop them, the torrent spilled down my cheeks. I wanted to scream. Or throw something against the wall. I knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything, so I rolled onto my side, facing the window, and laid my palm over my rounded belly. Lately, I had started talking to the bump more and more. For some reason, it made me feel less alone.
“Hey there, peanut. I’m sorry your father is an idiot.”
A hard kick thumped against my hand. A small laugh bubbled out of me, before it gave way to broken sobs. I buried my face into the scratchy pillowcase and cried myself to sleep.
The sensation of someone staring at me pulled me from slumber. I forced my swollen eyes open and saw Easton sitting in a chair next to the bed.
“It’s mine.” It wasn’t a question.
I nodded, not yet trusting myself to speak.
Before the conversation could go further, a knock sounded on the door and Dr. Wilson walked in, carrying an iPad, while a nurse trailed behind him, holding a fetal doppler.
I sat up and forced a smile. “Hey, Dr. Wilson.”
“Hi, Molly. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” My gaze darted to Easton. “This is Easton.”
The two of them shook hands.
“Nice to meet you, Easton.”
“Likewise,” East said.
Dr. Wilson directed his attention back to me. “Your latest blood test results came in. Everything looks good. Your iron levels are up, your blood pressure has stabilized, and we’ve given you plenty of fluids.”
“Do you know why I passed out?” I asked, resting my hands on my stomach.
“Dizziness during pregnancy is quite common. Fainting isn’t unheard of. It was likely brought on by dehydration or low blood sugar as well as your growing uterus putting pressure on your blood vessels.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”
“Are you experiencing any cramping or bleeding?” he asked.
“No.”
“What about headaches? Are you seeing spots?”
“No. No headaches. No spots.”
“What about vomiting?”
“Nope. Thankfully.”
“Excellent.” He looked at his chart. “The ultrasound that was conducted last night didn’t show the baby was under any distress. I’d like to examine you and have a listen to the fetal heartrate. If everything checks out, we’ll have you on your way.”
“Sounds good.” I wasn’t a fan of hospitals. I didn’t know many people who were.
The doctor glanced at Easton and then back to me. “Would you like Easton to wait outside?”
“He can stay to hear the baby’s heartbeat.” I repositioned myself, making sure the blankets covered my lower half, and then I lifted the gown, exposing my belly.
Dr. Wilson passed the nurse the iPad and went to the sink to wash his hands before turning on the doppler and placing the wand on my belly.
In an instant, the room filled with the sound of the baby’s heartbeat. I tried to focus on my belly, but the need to see Easton’s face drew my eyes in his direction.
All the color had drained from his face, and for a second, I worried he was going to pass out.
After a minute, Dr. Wilson spoke up, “One hundred forty-seven.”
