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Isabella
“I want to know how the fuck they managed to get in. Don’t we have people stationed outside the hospital?”
“They used a side entrance,” Paul replies in a strained voice. “We don’t have enough men to keep this up, Carter.”
“What did I fucking say about excuses?”
My eyes fly open, and I see Carter and Paul standing across from each other near the door of the room. Carter’s eyes are wide and dilated, and he looks like he might throw Paul out the nearest window. To his credit, the younger Blackthorne doesn’t look intimidated.
At least he’s hiding it well.
Paul squares his shoulders and balls his hands into fists at his side. “They’re not excuses. They are facts. We can’t have men here and be fighting the war on another front.”
“You don’t have to,” I reply in a clear voice. “I’m being discharged later today, aren’t I?”
Two pairs of eyes turn to me.
Carter’s expression is still dark when he crosses over to me. “Go back to sleep, dove. This isn’t something you should concern yourself with.”
I shake my head. “Paul is right. You’re wasting valuable resources while I’m cooped up here.”
Carter’s expression darkens further. “Paul doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about and needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut.”
I sit up straighter. “No, he’s right. Hopefully, the doctor gets here soon, so we can all get out of here.”
Although I’m still not sure how I feel about going back to the house, it’s not like I have anywhere else to go.
For now, there isn’t anywhere safe. And I need to think about my baby’s safety above all else.
Carter opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by the arrival of Tristan and Ernesto. Through the glass, they gesture to him, so he motions to Paul, and the two of them step out. Through the window, I see Paul linger outside the door while Carter, Ernesto, and Tristan storm off in the opposite direction.
Sam comes into my room a short while later, carrying more shopping bags. “Apparently, retail therapy really does help.”
I snort. “More baby clothes?”
“I got you a few things, too.” Sam sets the bags down and pushes her hair out of her eyes. “I wasn’t sure of your size, so I hope it’s okay that I asked Carter.”
“Of course, it’s okay.” I offer her a smile. “Sam, you’re pretty much the only person keeping me sane right now.”
Sam gives me a genuine smile. “I got you a few books, a bathrobe, some shampoo, and other toiletries. I figured you could take a shower while I wait for you. How does that sound?”
I nod. “I’d really like that.”
I’m still feeling weak, and standing up sends a wave of nausea through me. Sam helps me to the bathroom, and I spend the short trip thinking about what the doctor said about morning sickness. While a part of me is relieved it means the baby is healthy, the other part of me wonders if I’m being pushed too far.
I can’t even enjoy my pregnancy like other women.
In the bathroom, Sam turns her back on me while I peel off my clothes. I leave them in a pile on the floor and turn the knob. Then I pull the curtain back and step into the stall, turning my head up to face the faucet. Hot water cascades down my back and swirls under my feet. I press my head against the tile wall and release a deep breath.
Sam hands me a plastic bag full of things and withdraws her hand. “So, have you thought of baby names yet?”
I push myself away from the wall and lather up some soap. “No, not really.”
How can I think of anything related to the future of the baby when I’m struggling with the present? I don’t even know if I’m fit to be a mother anymore.
“What if you call her Hope, if it’s a girl, I mean?”
I lift my hair up off the nape of my neck and start to scrub my hair in slow and rhythmic motions. “I like the name, but it’s a little too…”
