by Lara Lacombe
He jumped to his feet and jogged after the medics, catching up to them at the ambulance. He slipped his hand into hers and she squeezed hard, causing his bones to grind together painfully. “Please don’t leave me,” she called out, a hint of desperation lacing her words.
Thorne didn’t bother to ask permission; he climbed into the back of the ambulance and slid along the bench seat until he sat by Maggie’s head. Her head was immobilized on the board, so he leaned forward until his face was directly over hers. Her blue eyes were bloodshot, but her gaze was steady as she stared up at him.
“I’m here,” he said, repeating his earlier assurance. He swallowed hard, trying to calm his frayed nerves. “You’re going to be okay.” Was he trying to convince her, or himself? She looked fine to his untrained eye, but the medic’s comment about a possible spinal cord injury made his guts cramp. He didn’t want Maggie to see his fear though, so he tried to give her a comforting smile.
“I’m scared.” The words were no more than a whisper, but Thorne heard them loud and clear. Me, too, he thought. Her confession made him feel a little bit better, as if they were working together as a team. A spark of confidence kindled to life in his chest, and his worries began to fade as he focused on being strong for Maggie.
He squeezed her hand gently and leaned down to speak into her ear. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “I won’t leave you.”
Not this time...
* * *
Maggie shivered slightly in the cool air of the hospital room. The thin cotton johnny they’d given her was practical for the staff, but it did little in the way of providing warmth.
Or modesty.
She tugged the mint-green blanket higher on her lap and tucked the edges under her legs. Fortunately, Thorne had stepped out of the room when she’d been asked to change, and he hadn’t seen her out of the bed since. Not that it mattered. He already knew what she looked like naked.
“Are you cold?”
She jumped a little at the unexpected question. Thorne had been sitting silently by the bed since she’d returned from getting a scan, unmoving except for the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders with every breath. At first, she’d found his presence awkward and uncomfortable. She was not in the mood to discuss their one-night stand. But after a few moments, she realized Thorne wasn’t here to talk. And as the silence in the room had continued, her agitation had gradually faded until she’d almost forgotten he was there.
Truth be told, she was surprised he’d noticed her movement. He’d spent the past three months doing a bang-up job of ignoring her, so why should now be any different?
She bit her lip to hold back a sarcastic response and settled for a nod.
“I’ll see if I can find you another blanket.” He rose from the chair and lifted his hands over his head in a quick stretch. Maggie followed the motion with her eyes, noting the flex and play of his muscles under the blue cotton shirt he wore. All at once, she was assaulted with the memory of his strong arms banded around her, the feel of his work-roughened hands on her body. She flushed, and was grateful his back was turned so he didn’t see her reaction.
His boot heels tapped against the tile as he walked out of her room, and Maggie let out her breath in a sigh. Why was he still here? More importantly, what was she going to do about it?
She knew why he’d come to the hospital, of course. After all, she’d practically begged him to, the way she’d grabbed his hand like he was some kind of savior. The explosion of her car and the chaotic aftermath had left her terrified and vulnerable, and she’d latched on to the first familiar face she’d seen. It was kind of Thorne to indulge her moment of weakness, but now that the situation was under control, he no longer had to stay. He was probably itching to get back to the ranch to assess the damage and make sure the horses were okay, and as soon as he returned she would suggest he do so. Mac likely needed his help cleaning up the mess, and it would be easier for the both of them if they no longer had to tiptoe around each other.
A steady click announced Thorne’s return and he slipped into the room carrying another blanket. Without saying a word, he walked over to the bed and carefully spread it across her legs.
The fabric was surprisingly warm and she burrowed into the heat, fisting her hands in the waffle-print of the weave. She felt like she’d been run over by a truck, and her bruised and battered body welcomed the warmth. It soaked into her muscles, dulling the sharp edges of her aches and pains. “Thank you,” she said.
He nodded. “Is it helping?” His voice was slightly scratchy from disuse, and it brought back another memory from that night—or rather, the next morning, when she’d woken to find him watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. When she'd met his gaze, she’d seen a flash of something she’d sworn was love in his light brown eyes. But it was there and gone in the space between heartbeats, and as she’d watched, he’d thrown up a wall between them.
“I should make coffee,” he’d said, his voice rough with the morning. Innocent words, and yet Maggie had known in that instant the magic they’d shared the night before had not survived to see the dawn.
“It’s not too hot?” His question cut through her unhappy reverie and she blinked to find him staring down at her, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in concern. “The nurse took it out of some kind of incubator. It felt pretty warm to me when I was carrying it.”
“No, it’s perfect,” she said. Time for him to go...
Just as she opened her mouth to suggest he leave, the door swung open to admit her doctor.
“I’ve got test results,” he said, holding up a manila folder and wiggling it in illustration. Maggie nodded and offered him a smile. “That was fast.”
“Lucky for you, it’s a slow day.” Dr. Jenkins wheeled the stool over to her bedside and sat, then glanced at Thorne. “Do you mind if we talk in front of your friend? I’m afraid someone is going to need to take care of you for the next few days, so it’ll be good for him to hear the instructions firsthand.”
Great. Just wonderful. Before Maggie could clarify that Thorne would definitely not be her caretaker, the man in question sat on her bed and pulled out his phone. “Do you mind if I record this so I don’t miss anything?”
Dr. Jenkins nodded. “Be my guest.” Then he turned to look at her. “Okay, so here’s the deal. The CT scan revealed you have a minor concussion and a few cracked ribs. There’s not much we can do about either of those things—you need rest and time to heal. And I do mean rest.” He tilted his head down so he could level a serious look at her over the top of his glasses. “Your brain has been bruised. It is imperative you give it time to heal. That means no reading, no watching TV, nothing that would cause any kind of physical or mental strain. How is your head now?”
“It hurts,” she admitted.
He nodded, as if he’d expected that response. “You can take Tylenol for the pain. Stay away from ibuprofen or aspirin, as they may cause bleeding.”
“What about her ribs?” Thorne asked, leaning forward as if he was hanging on the doctor’s every word.
Dr. Jenkins shrugged. “Again, rest is what she needs.” He turned back to Maggie. “We can’t really do anything except make you aware of the problem so you don’t exacerbate it. I want you to do some breathing exercises a few times a day—I’ll have a respiratory therapist come show you what to do before you’re discharged.”
Maggie nodded. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Why do I need help?”
“Because I’m serious about you needing to rest. You basically need to stay in bed for the next few days—no fixing yourself food, or doing any household chores, or anything like that. The only time I want you up and about is when you’re walking to and from the bathroom.”
“But—” she began, but the doctor shook his head.
“No buts. Besides, I’m pretty sure the OB will tell you the same thing.�
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Maggie frowned. “What are you talking about? Why would an obstetrician have anything to say about my recovery?”
Dr. Jenkins stared at her for a moment, as if reassessing her mental status. Then realization dawned on his face, along with a flicker of horror. “Oh, dear,” he said, under his breath. “You didn’t know.”
“Know what?” Maggie’s stomach started to churn threateningly and her heart pounded hard against her breastbone, causing the monitor beside her bed to beep in protest. Dr. Jenkins glanced at it and pressed a button, silencing the electronic noise.
“Ah, take a deep breath for me and try to relax,” he said. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and ran a hand through his graying hair, clearly uncomfortable.
“Doctor,” Maggie replied, careful to keep her gaze locked on him and away from Thorne. “Why am I going to see an obstetrician today?”
The older man let out a breath and met Maggie’s eyes, and the sympathetic look on his face set her world spinning.
“Because you’re pregnant.”
Chapter 4
Because you’re pregnant.
Thorne heard the doctor’s statement, but his brain refused to comprehend what was going on. He examined the words, looking at each one individually, trying to put them together in some new combination that didn’t translate into an earthshaking announcement. But no matter how hard he tried to search for an alternate translation, he kept arriving at the same conclusion.
Maggie was going to have a baby.
As he came to terms with the news, a question formed in his mind: Was the baby his?
He glanced over at Maggie. Her skin was white as chalk and her eyes were wide with disbelief. Either she was one hell of an actress, or she truly hadn’t known she was pregnant. He saw her mouth move and shook his head to clear it of the buzzing in his ears.
“Are you sure?” she was asking.
Dr. Jenkins nodded and placed his hand over Maggie’s in a kindly gesture. “Quite sure. The fetus was clearly visible on the CT scan.”
Maggie shook her head, as if denying the truth of the doctor’s words. “But I can’t get pregnant!”
The older man smiled ruefully. “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that...”
“No, you don’t understand,” Maggie said forcefully. “I have endometriosis. I’ve had it since puberty. It’s so bad I had a surgical ablation six months ago to help relieve my symptoms. My gynecologist told me I probably wouldn’t be able to have children due to all the scar tissue that’s developed over the years.”
Dr. Jenkins nodded. “I hear what you’re saying. But the scan clearly showed you’re pregnant. As for the how of it, I think the obstetrician will be better suited to answer your questions. That’s not my area of expertise.”
Thorne finally found his voice. “How far along is she?” He held his breath, feeling like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. What the doctor said next would determine whether he plunged into a free fall or stepped back to the safety of his normal life.
Dr. Jenkins cast him a glance. “I can’t say for sure—” he began, but Maggie cut him off.
“Three months,” she said evenly. She met Thorne’s gaze; her blue eyes glinted with challenge, as if she was daring him to question the paternity of the baby.
The doctor nodded. “I’d say that’s consistent with fetal measurements and development. The obstetrician will likely be able to narrow it down further.”
“I see,” Thorne said weakly. He tried to take a deep breath, but there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. He gasped, his chest tightening with effort. His fingertips began to tingle and he leaned forward, trying to stand.
A hand shot out and grabbed his upper arm, holding him steady. Thorne looked up and Dr. Jenkins’s concerned face filled his vision. “Are you okay?”
Thorne nodded. “I just need some air.” He managed to get his feet under him and staggered out of the room, feeling like his body weighed a thousand pounds.
A baby. He was going to be a father.
He found a chair in the hall and collapsed into it, grateful for the support. How was this even possible?
Well, he knew how it had happened. He remembered every second of that night—every touch, every kiss, every sigh. He’d been living off the memories for the last three months, knowing it was all he’d ever have.
But even though he’d finally indulged in his attraction to Maggie, he’d made sure to use protection. He wasn’t ready to be a father, and he hadn’t wanted to saddle her with a child, either.
Especially not his child.
A cold chill gripped his heart as he thought of his brother Knox and his nephew, Cody. A few months ago, one of Livia’s old cronies, Earl Hefferman, had kidnapped Cody in a bid to get back at Livia for cheating him out of some money. Fortunately, Knox had found his son safe and sound, but the aftershocks of that terrifying ordeal still affected them all.
What would happen if Livia or, God forbid, her enemies found out about this baby? He harbored no illusions about how his mother would react; she would see this child as another pawn to be moved around in her sick game of chess. And her accomplices would feel the same way. His stomach cramped at the thought of an innocent baby being exposed to such wicked people. Maggie wasn’t safe, either. As long as she carried his child, she was a target.
And it seemed like someone was already trying to hurt her.
He shuddered, imagining the giant fireball that had consumed her car. A few more minutes, and Maggie would have been inside the car when it exploded. She was definitely a target, but who would want to do her harm? And more importantly, why?
Given the look of shock on her face, she hadn’t known about the pregnancy, which meant no one else did, either. But it was possible Livia or one of her goons had figured out that Maggie held a special place in his heart. Livia wasn’t above hurting an innocent person to get what she wanted, and if she had her sights set on punishing Thorne for his lack of support during her trial it made sense she would target the one woman he’d shown an interest in, even if he had walked away after their night together.
He wouldn’t put it past Livia to have hired people to keep tabs on her children, reporting back any developments that she could use against them. And his night with Maggie would not have gone unnoticed. It had been years since he’d dated anyone, and he didn’t enjoy one-night stands. A woman staying the night in his apartment certainly would have been news, and he could picture all too well Livia’s gleeful reaction at the discovery of a new button she could push.
Thorne shook his head, cursing under his breath. He’d wasted so much time worrying about Maggie’s reputation should anyone find out about their connection. He should have realized the true threat came from Livia, especially after her escape from prison months ago.
“There you are.”
Thorne glanced up to find his brother Knox walking toward him. A wave of relief washed over him; next to Mac, Knox was the glue that held their family together. He’d always looked up to his older half brother and just seeing him now made Thorne feel like everything was going to be okay.
“What are you doing here?” Thorne stood and met his brother halfway down the hall. “It’s good to see you, but what’s going on?” A terrible thought occurred to him, and Thorne’s stomach dropped. “Are Cody and Allison okay?” God, had someone targeted them, as well?
Knox clapped a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “They’re fine, everyone’s okay,” he said. “I’m here for you. Mac called me,” he explained. “Said there’d been an explosion at the ranch and you were here with Maggie.”
Thorne nodded, glad to know no one else had been hurt today. “She’s in with the doctor now. She has a concussion and some bruised ribs.” He paused, wondering if he should tell Knox the rest of the news. Maggie migh
t not want anyone to know about the baby yet.
Knox picked up on his hesitation. “And?” he prompted.
Ah, to hell with it. Her pregnancy affected his life, too, and Knox wasn’t the kind of man to spread gossip. Still, Thorne glanced around to make sure no one was nearby to overhear his next words. “And she’s, uh, she’s pregnant,” he said, keeping his voice low.
Knox’s eyebrows shot up. “By the way you’re acting, can I assume the baby is yours?”
Thorne nodded. “I think so.”
“You think so? You mean you don’t know for sure?”
Thorne looked down, resisting the temptation to scuff the toe of his boot on the shiny linoleum floor. “We haven’t had a chance to talk yet.”
Knox leaned back against the wall, blowing out his breath in a sigh. “Well. That will be some conversation.”
Thorne fell into place beside his brother with a small laugh. “Yeah.”
Knox was silent a moment. Then he leaned over and bumped Thorne’s shoulder with his own. “Don’t you know how birth control works?”
“We used a condom.” Thorne felt his face heat and knew he was blushing. “I still have that box you bought me.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Knox turned to face him, incredulity shining in his bright blue eyes. “I gave you that box when you were still in high school! Do you mean to tell me you haven’t used them all yet?”
“No.” Thorne’s shoulders hunched and he looked down again, searching for an escape from this conversation. “Wendy Smithson broke up with me a few weeks after your little sex ed lesson, and I haven’t really dated a lot of women since then.”
“Yeah, but...”
“There were a hundred condoms in the box,” Thorne pointed out dryly. “I’m glad you think so highly of me, but I haven’t had a lot of success with women. I understand horses a lot better.”
“Who doesn’t?” Knox muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the short light brown strands. “You know they have a shelf life, right? They’re not as reliable after the expiration date. The latex starts to break down.”
