Page 119 of Promise

“Fuck. What happened?” he repeats.

“I’m okay. I just . . .” I choke around a sob, uncertain if it’s relief or fear or a combination. The nauseous sensation shifts to real concern that I might vomit. “I can explain everything when you get here. I just need you.”

“I’m on my way.” He grunts. “I’ll text you when I get there.”

The nurse manager is understanding when I tell her I’m suddenly not feeling well. It’s evident I’m shaken by something, and she lets me clock out early. I wait for Dart near the staff parking, pacing the sidewalk, until I eventually see his truck whip into the lot. Relief washes over me, although I still clutch at my belly. Hands trembling. Heart sprinting.

When Dart stops alongside me, he bursts out of his door before I can reach for the passenger door. Instantly, I’m in his embrace, my arms around his neck, holding him like I’ll never let go.

“I’m here,” he coos near my ear. “I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t even know what’s happened, and yet, he’s here.

“Get me out of here,” I whimper.

Dart pulls back, scanning my face for a second, before tugging open the passenger door and helping me inside. I immediately swivel toward the backseat, panic momentarily seizing me.

“Where’s Mirabelle?” I spin toward Dart.

“I took her to your mom’s. You sounded . . . I don’t know what you sounded like, but it scared the fuck out of me.”

I take a deep inhale, absorbing the faint scent of comforting pine and asphalt.

Dart runs his hand down the side of my face. His eyes ping over me, concern filling them to the brim.

Once he shuts my door, he rounds the truck and re-enters it. He shifts to Drive and sets his hand on my thigh. Through the thinness of my scrubs, his warmth seeps into my skin. The bone-cold chill is a direct result of the rattle in my nerves.

I grip his wrist, holding onto him like I need the reassurance he’s actually present. He’s here beside me. He’s here because I called him.

“Start talking, Forever.” His tone is terse, full of worry.

“Marissa came to see me.”

His head swivels in my direction, eyes questioning before he glances back at the road.

“Mirabelle’s mom.”

“You’re Mirabelle’s mom.” Razor-sharp and clear, he squeezes my thigh to emphasize his words.

“Her biological one.”

His mouth pops to argue, then snaps shut. “What did she want?”

“She wanted to check on Mirabelle.” Or maybe she just wanted confirmation for herself. For her decision.

Was I overreacting? She didn’t want to see a picture. Didn’t want to know more about Mirabelle. Her height. Her weight. Her development. Her easy personality, already present at nearly five months.

I swipe my other hand over my forehead, noticing the continued tremor in my fingers. “I think . . . I think I just panicked. Like, what if she wants her back?” I turn my head toward Dart. My eyes cloud with the tears I’ve been holding back. Dart blurs in my vision. “What if she takes her from us?”

Suddenly, Dart is pulling off the road. The truck jostles and jolts over a rugged path before he pulls between a set of trees, shielding us from the road.

He cuts the engine, pushes his seat back, and reaches for me all in one smooth move. I’m in his lap before I can process how quickly he moved, clinging to him as hard as he is clutching at me.

“No one is taking her from us. No one.” He sounds so certain and emphasizes every word with an extra squeeze. He pushes me back and cups my face, so I focus on him. Look him in those whiskey-colored eyes.

“Nothing is going to happen to her.” The determination in his tone does little to ease me yet. “To you. To me. To us. I won’t let anything happen to anyone.”

He pulls me back to him, fusing me tightly to his chest, peppering the side of my head with soft kisses.