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"Conceiving after this isn't going to give the baby I was supposed to have back."
My words come out harsh. I know that this nurse doesn't deserve it. But no matter how nice she is, encouraging words about future children won't piece together my son's stolen future.
The nurse, to her credit, nods.
"You're right. I'm sorry, truly. I'll talk to the doctor about how long you'll be here. He should be around sometime today to talk to you directly."
With that, she leaves.
* * *
Quinn and my mother text me through the morning. Mom had to go home to rest and Quinn has work—though both said they would drop everything and come immediately if I needed them here.
I tell them both to rest and do what they need to do. They can't halt their lives for mine. And for now, being alone is what I need.
Well, that's not entirely the truth. Reese is what I need, but he's not here and there's nothing I can do about that. I contemplate sending him a text of my own. But everything I type out feels inadequate.
Where are you?
Are you okay?
Are we okay?
I miss him already.
I need you.
I erase them all as soon as I type them. I can't help but fear that this was the last straw. That my losing this baby was Reese's ticket out. Had I done enough to keep Holly from firing that fatal shot? Should I have just stayed where I was, waiting for him to come rescue me, instead of playing the part of the superwoman who thought she could do it all?
Maybe I was stupid.
Maybe I deserve this.
Another knock sounds on the door. I ignore it. It'll be the nurse or the doctor. Two people I don't want to see right now. It isn't clinical precision that's going to save me. The time for that is past.
So when the door opens, the last voice that I expect to hear is Reese's.
"Olivia…?"
I sit up faster than I probably should. A woozy feeling washes over me and I have to steel my nerves.
But he's here.
His hair is disheveled. Dark circles line the underside of his eyes and his t-shirt and sweats look worn and thin.
“Reese…”
A chaotic cluster of questions plague me. Where was he? Was Holly arrested? What happened to Emily?
Does he know about our baby?
All these questions—that’s all I have anymore are questions, questions, questions—but the first thing I do isn't to ask a single one of them. It's to break down, a deep sob ripping free of my chest as I bury my face in my hands and start to cry.
He's at my bedside instantly. He pulls me into his side, holding me against him as tight as my injuries will allow. His fingers smooth over my hair, across my cheeks. His lips press against the crown of my head, my temples.
"It's okay,” he murmurs. I feel his voice as much as I hear it. “Everything will be okay."
It doesn't feel like it will.
