Page 31 of The Golden Hour

And she wasn’t even fucking diagnosed by Dr. Mortimer because he had called it a day with HG. Mason’s fury erupts in his chest as he thinks of the older doctor dismissing his wife’s concerns, but it quickly dies when he realizes⁠⁠—

He was doing the same thing.

No. Worse. He did not even stop long enough to dismiss her properly. Because it wasn’t the ED, it didn’t give him the rush, so it wasn’t a concern of his.

It was just his wife, his child.

Ellen’s words from earlier strike him hard.

This is a job.

His family is his life.

And now his wife is bleeding out and dying in front of him.

Because of him.

Mason flinches and presses his palms to his eyes, praying that this is all a nightmare. When he wakes up, Honey will be right beside him, sleeping peacefully. That Daisy will be safe inside of her. That he can roll over, hold them both in his arms, and still have time to fix this.

Weaver snaps her head up, defending him out of habit. “Easy, Farah⁠⁠—”

“Fuck easy!” Farah snarls at Weaver. “His wife is bleeding out!”

She’s right. Mason doesn’t have a defense, doesn’t want a defense. His wife was suffering from a dangerous condition right under his fucking nose, and he was too concerned with other patients to see.

Melissa’s sobs turn furious, and she lets out a pain-filled, guttural cry.

“She told him,” she says, voice breaking into a snarl. “She told Mortimer about the headaches. The spots. The swelling. The pain. He told her it was pregnancy and to just rest. I fucking knew it. I knew it. Why didn’t he see?”

Melissa’s furious, red-rimmed eyes turn toward him.

“Why didn’t you see?” she demands. “You’re a doctor, Mason. She’s your wife.”

His mother-in-law stomps over to him and grabs the front of his scrubs in both fists. She shakes him once, hard, and he doesn’t fight back. He just lets her hit his chest, his arms, everywhere she can reach before someone would have to stop her.

He can’t feel any of it.

Tears pour down his cheeks. He can taste the salt of them, but he can’t feel the stinging in his eyes or nose.

He can’t take his eyes off his wife.

“Why didn’t you see?” Melissa sobs, slamming a fist against his chest. “Why? Why? Goddamn you, Mason.”

“Mom—” Mason croaks, but Melissa cuts him off.

“Don’t!” she snaps, stepping back from him as if the word burned her. “Don’t call me that.”

Mason hitches a sob as she turns away, and he watches his coworkers work to stabilize his wife.

“Lowell,” Weaver snaps, “check out her head. Possible concussion. Ma’am, you’re bleeding⁠⁠—”

“My daughter is bleeding!” Melissa snarls at Dr. Weaver. “You’re going to have to call security if you want me out of this room.”

“That can be arranged,” Dr. Weaver replies evenly.

“No!” Mason roars then, causing every eye to turn to him. He meets Dr. Weaver’s eyes head-on and shakes his head. “She’s not leaving her.”

Melissa gives him a look, not exactly soft, but more reluctant appreciation for his support under all that fury. Weaver and Farah get pulled back into treating Honey, and Mason steps forward, because he cannot help himself.