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"No," I grip his palm, "Mika, no." A sinking sensation coils in my chest. The hair on the nape of my neck rises, "Mika, please," I whisper, my voice hoarse, my throat dry.
He leans in closer. "What’s wrong?" He peers into my features, "Are you in pain?"
"No," I shake my head as I glance around the space. The scent of antiseptic assails my senses. I take in the white walls, the fluorescent lighting, the equipment pushed up against the wall, "Am I in the hospital?"
He nods, holds up a cup of water and places the straw between my lips. "Do you remember what happened?"
I pause to collect my thoughts as I swallow. "I remember seeing you...” I scrunch up my eyebrows. “Then I reached for the ignition, and the car," I swallow, "the car…it…"
"The ignition blew. The bomb placed in the vehicle was faulty. You were thrown free."
"Thrown free?" I raise my free hand to my forehead and wince.
"I had a jump seat installed, so if anything ever happened to the vehicle, the roof would open and the ejector seat would activate."
"So, I was…ejected out of the vehicle, along with the seat?"
He nods.
"And Xander?" I frown. "I remember seeing you say something to us. I couldn’t understand what it was, but I think Xander did, because he turned to me, and then... I don’t remember anything after that."
"I was speaking in Italian." He sets his jaw, "He probably realized that I was warning him."
"Where is he?" I glance around the room. "Is he okay?"
Michael glances away, then back at me. My heart begins to race, a bead of sweat slides down my back.
"Mika," I whisper as I tighten my hold on his fingers, "Xander… Is he…"
Michael holds my gaze, "He didn’t make it."
"No." My heart feels like it’s going to break and a ball of emotion blocks my throat. I shake my head back and forth, intensifying the pounding. "No, Mika, no," I gasp.
A vein throbs at his temple. I take in his mussed-up hair, the hollows under his eyes.
"It wasn’t your fault, Mika," I whisper.
"Wasn’t it?" He holds my gaze and his features seem to settle into a mask. I sense him withdrawing from me and my stomach drops.
He tries to pull his hand free and I hold onto him. "Michael, don’t do it."
"Don’t do what?"
"Whatever it is you’re thinking about, don’t do it."
"You’re distraught," he murmurs, "still dazed from the…the incident."
"No." I swallow and try to sit up, but he places his hand on my shoulder.
"Don’t try to move yet."
"I am fine." I glance between his eyes, "Thanks to you, Michael. Don’t you see? You had the foresight to ensure that the car would hold up to something like this."
"I failed you," he says in a hard voice. "I couldn’t protect you and our child."
"Child," I stare at him. "The baby." I release his hand and place both of my palms against my stomach. My flat…empty stomach. How could I have forgotten? Or had I already subconsciously known and hadn’t been able to face up to it? "My baby," I whisper as I glance down at myself, "he’s gone."
The tears that I had been holding back well up. My face crumples and he moves forward. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulls me close. I bury my face in his chest and allow the shock, the sorrow, the disappointment to well up and overwhelm me. I dig my fingers into the front of his shirt and allow myself to cry. He holds me, rocks me, runs his fingers down my hair. I sense his chest planes flex under my cheek and glance up. His features are hard, but his eyes? Those blue eyes of his blaze with an inner emotion… Grief? Anger? A mix of the two, maybe? He holds my gaze, neither of us speaking as I reach up and flatten my palm against his cheek. "Mika," I swallow, "I’m so sorry."
