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“No,” I shout this time and rip my hand from his like I’ve been burned. He winces, clearly hurt by my actions. “No, no, no.” I shake my head roughly back and forth. “No, this is wrong,” I defend.
“Nova,” he says again, his tone and gaze pitying.
I feel like I’m going to be sick.
The door opens and the doctor steps in with a solemn expression.
She washes her hands and sits down, none of her usual cheeriness. She grabs the wand and presses it to my stomach, pressing a few buttons and moving it around.
And still the baby does not move.
No thump thump thump.
Nothing.
There’s nothing.
“I’m sorry—” my doctor begins, but before she can continue, I burst into uncontrollable sobs.
“Oh, Nova,” Jace breathes, sounding heartbroken.
He stands and wraps his arms around me. I fight against him at first, not wanting his touch or anyone’s, but eventually I can’t help it and I cling tightly to him.
Wetness drips onto my forehead and for a moment I wonder where it’s from, but then I realize he’s crying too.
I’ve never, not once, seen Jace actually cry.
I guess it would take something big to make him cry, and this … this is monumental. This is life changing in a bad way.
I struggle to get enough oxygen to my lungs, panic choking my throat.
I want to believe this isn’t real. I squish my eyes closed and then pop them open, but everything is still the same. None of this is going away, and my doctor is looking at us with pity.
“No, you’re wrong,” I finally choke out, my words thick.
She frowns. “I wish I was.”
Still holding me, Jace turns to her. “Why? Why did this happen?”
She gives us another sad look. “All your scans have looked perfect. There was no sign anything was wrong. Sometimes these things, they just happen.”
Her words cut me. I need more of an explanation. I need to understand what I did wrong, what caused this, because there must be a reason. I refuse to except that these things just happen.
I sob into Jace’s shirt, clutching his arm so hard my nails dent the surface, but he doesn’t say anything or go to move away. If anything he holds me tighter, like he’s willing my pain to sink into his so I don’t have to feel any of this.
“What happens now?” Jace asks, his voice shaky.
“Well,” the doctor begins, “this late in a pregnancy it’s best to induce labor and deliver that way.”
I shudder.
“I’m sorry,” my doctor says again, and I feel her touch my leg in sympathy.
I wish words could make this better. I wish anything could, but it won’t.
“I’d like you to come in tomorrow morning to the hospital and we’ll get things moving.”
I nod woodenly.
