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Prologue
The lights are too bright, is all I can think when the ultrasound technician squirts the gel on my stomach. Dean squeezes my hand and I glance at him. He has been my rock through all of this. I love you; he mouths. I smile and squeeze his hand back.
“Alright! Let’s get this show on the road.” The tech takes the wand and smears the gel around on my stomach, pressing on one side and then moving to the other. “Hmm,” she says, still moving the wand around.
“What? What’s wrong?” Dean asks gruffly. We are here for our last ultrasound before my due date. Nothing is wrong. Nothing can be wrong. This pregnancy has been so easy, and I can’t wait to meet our sweet Everly.
The tech puts the wand back and excuses herself to go get the doctor. My eyes well with tears.
“Dean,” I whisper, and he leans over the hospital bed.
“Hey shh, it’s fine. Everything’s fine, Whit. She’s probably just sleeping in there and they gotta wake her up.” Dean is two years older than me, nineteen to my seventeen. We have been together since my Freshman year. Now I’m a senior and he’s outta school, workin’ at the auto shop here in town, putting money back so we can all three move in together when I graduate in a month.
He presses a kiss to my forehead and links his fingers with mine. I want to believe him, but something doesn’t feel right. The door to the room opens and the doctor walks in.
“Dean, Whitley. Good to see you,” Dr. Amari says, washing her hands and then grabbing the wand and punching some buttons on the ultrasound machine. She does the same things that the tech did, moving it around, taking pictures of Everly. The room is too quiet.
“Whitley, when was the last time you felt the baby move?” She asks, her brows furrowed.
“Yesterday,” I whisper, and she glances at me and then back to the machine.
“I’m so sorry,” she says and my stomach drops, “I can’t find a heartbeat.” A sob escapes me.
“Look again,” Dean says harshly, and I tug his hand.
“Dean,” my voice cracks. And I just know. I know my baby is dead.
“No, fuck that. Check again.” He demands. The doctor clears her throat before sliding the wand around my stomach. Nothing. No whoosh whoosh filling our ears like all the ultrasounds before. Dr. Amari puts the wand away and drags her stool over to my bedside as the tech silently wipes the warm gel off my stomach.
“Whitley, we are going to have to have the baby today. We need her out as soon as possible so we will have to do a c-section. Do you remember me going over all that with you before?” I nod my head. “I have to get permission from your mom since you’re a minor, so I’m going to go call her now. But I need you to understand, going into this, that no heartbeat means we could be delivering a stillborn baby.” Stillborn. Just a polite way to say that my baby is dead.
“Was it something I did?” I ask and her face softens as she pats my hand.
“No honey, it’s nothing you did. You did everything right, it’s just that sometimes these things happen. She could be stillborn for any number of reasons, but it isn’t something that you did. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to go call your momma and then the OB floor to let them know to get a room ready.” I nod my head and she leaves. Dean exhales shakily and grabs my hand.
“Everything will be just fine,” he starts, “you’ll see…” and I cut him off.
“She’s dead, Dean.” I say, tears rolling down my face and his facade cracks and a tear escapes his eye, trailing its way down his cheek. He drops his forehead against the bed as sobs rack his body.
Present
“Order up!” The cook hollers from the kitchen for the third time and I roll my eyes.
“I said, gimme a minute Kolby! I gotta deliver these drinks and then I will come grab that food,” I shut the beer tap off, drop the beers on the counter to the two good ole’ boys that just sat down at the bar, and make my way to the window to grab the plates.
“Keep your damn pants on.” He winks at my comment and I roll my eyes again.
“Wish you’d help me take my pants off,” he says, clutching his chest.
This man has been trying to get in my pants for the last eight months and no matter how many times I say it ain’t happening, he just keeps shootin’ his shot.
“Not happening,” I sing-song before walking away and I hear his laugh trailing behind me. I deliver the food to the table of four that I have before heading back to my bar. Well, it’s not really mine. Fred owns it, but I’ve worked here so long it feels like it’s mine. Started serving at the Rustic Tavern when I was eighteen and slinging drinks when I turned twenty-one. Six years later feels like a lifetime but I love this bar and all its customers.
The front door to the bar creaks open and Avery comes flying in for her closing shift.
“I’m here, I’m here!” She shouts, ducking under the bar top partition and stashing her stuff down below before throwing her hair up in a bun.
“Well look who decided to grace us with her presence,” I drawl, but she knows I’m just kidding. She’s one of my best friends, but God love her, the girl will be late to her own funeral.
