Page 95 of Afterglow

“X-ray?” I ask, then register the splint on my left wrist.

“Hey, stranger.” Rebecca’s voice comes from the doorway, and I can’t help but smile, even if it’s a weak one. She was here. She made sure we were alright. She called Bryce. “How are you feeling?”

“A little out of it.” Each word comes easier, but they still take a lot of effort to put together. “Bryce said the baby’s okay, but are you sure?”

She smiles and it’s the same calming smile I remember from my very first appointment with her. “She’s stable. We’ll do an ultrasound to check fluid levels to be sure, but there haven’t been any contractions or anything to be concerned about.”

“She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay,” I whisper the words to the ceiling, letting my eyes slip closed again for a second while I get my bearings.

“She’s okay, Leanne.” I feel the rasp of Bryce’s whiskered face against my exposed abdomen, followed by the softness of his lips.

I nod as tears drip down my temples and into my hair.

She’s okay. And I’m okay too. Bryce is here. It’s all going to be okay.

After a moment, Rebecca speaks again. “Now that you’re awake, let’s get your x-ray and then you can see your baby girl.”

There’s something about watching our little butterfly flip around on the screen that finally convinces me she’s fine.

Bryce stays very quiet while the tech moves the wand across my stomach. Aside from holding tight to my hand, like he’s afraid I might disappear if he lets go, he seems to be barely breathing. He lost everything once, and I brought him so close to losing it all again… The thought makes me feel sick.

“Everything looks perfect. Fluid levels are normal. She’s active, and there’s no indication of trauma to your stomach.” Becca watches the screen, seeing everything we do as the tech moves the wand around. “Your motherly instinct to protect her was a good one, even if it did lead to a broken wrist.”

She’s really fine. I’m fine. We’re okay. I start to shake a little, the temperature in the room permeating through the thin gown they put me in.

“You’re cold?” Bryce asks, lifting his head from where he’d pressed it into the bed as he took in his sister’s words.

I nod, another shiver rolling down my spine.

“That’s normal. Your body’s had a shock and still needs time to recover,” Rebecca says, moving into action. “Let’s get you back to your room and we can get you some extra blankets. I want to keep you here overnight for monitoring.”

“Can Bryce stay?” I ask, pleading with her with my eyes.

She purses her lips initially and then smiles. “Since he told the nurse he’s your husband, I don’t see why they won’t let him stay.” Her smile only grows as she shoots a wink at him. My mouth drops open and I swivel my neck to find a sheepish expression stealing across his features.

He’s unapologetic when he says, “And I’d do it again if it meant getting to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rebecca says, but then she pins us both with a look. “Listen, you need rest, so no heavy conversations tonight, understood?”

Neither of us answers her. There’s so much I want to say to Bryce and I don’t know if I can hold it in for another day.

She shakes her head and walks out, waving over her shoulder. “I’ll check on you later.”

Bryce holds my hand all the way back to the room, not speaking until I’m settled and the nurse finally leaves.

“Are you sure you want me to stay? If you still need space, I can go.” I don’t doubt that he’d leave if I asked him to, even if it killed him to do it. “I can call your parents if you’d prefer. I wanted to wait until you could decide, but if you want them here…”

I shake my head and wince when a faint sting follows. I do my best to ignore it and say, “The last thing I want is space.” And I’m relieved he didn’t call my parents. I’m not ready to tell them. Mom will be an absolute wreck, even if I assure her that I’m fine. “Will you come here, please?”

I need him to stop pacing on the other side of the room. It’s making me dizzy.

His steps are measured until he sits propped on the end of my bed like some kind of mannequin.

“Here,” I say, patting the bed beside me and scooting over so there’s space.

“There’s not enough room,” he protests, but I reach for him and he slips his callused hand into mine.

I tug. “I don’t care. I need you here, please.”