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“Jennie,” he said through the door. “Dinner—chicken or beef?”
“Cheese danish,” came her reply.
“Uh, no. Chicken, then. Stir-fry chicken with veggies or grilled chicken and salad?”
She opened the door, letting out a cloud of steam with her. Chad looked down at her, hair wet, bathrobe around her tiny frame, and her hands fisted on her hips as if she were ready to take him on.
She smelled of that light flowery scent he was pretty sure was lilacs, but also seemed innately Jennie. Her body still glistened with beads of water and he had to fight the urge to lean down and lick at the droplets.
His body’s response to her was involuntary and unwelcome, but it was there just the same. There was no stopping it.
He only hoped he could ignore it and that she didn’t notice. He knew, if she asked, he would probably give her anything she wanted.
Except cheese danish for dinner.
“Pudding, then. I’ll have pudding,” Jennie said.
She brushed past him and either didn’t see his eye roll or chose to ignore it.
“Jennie, you can’t just eat shit like that. You need more nutrients in you.”
Chad could tell she wasn’t eating nearly enough to feed both herself and the baby. As much as he didn’t want to be angry with her, his frustration was wearing on him. He wanted to strap her to a chair and force-feed her something more than pudding, but he forced his expression into a neutral mask.
“I puke up more nutrients. I can keep pudding and pastries down. If I eat anything else I throw it up. My doctor said not to worry about it for now. The nausea should stop in a couple of weeks. Then I can eat all the fruits and veggies and lean protein you want to shove in me. But for right now, she said to eat whatever I can keep down. I can keep down pudding and pastries. So, you choose. Either one is fine with me.”
Her grin was cheeky, but Chad didn’t want to give in, no matter how cute she looked when she argued with him. He hated that she was so sick at times and he was beginning to wonder if this was normal.
There were times when she was retching on what he knew had to be an empty stomach and he wondered if the baby could be harmed from that. It couldn’t be good for the baby. He read his way through most of the book on pregnancy and realized nausea was pretty standard but he’d feel even better if she saw a doctor.
“Hey, Jen. We could be here awhile. Maybe we need to find a doctor in this area to see you. Aren’t you supposed to go in for regular visits now?” he asked.
She stopped pulling clothes out of her dresser and looked at him.
“My next visit isn’t for a couple more weeks. I don’t have to go in very often right now, but as things progress, I’ll have to go more regularly.” She stopped and furrowed her brow. “Wouldn’t we need to give them my real name and show ID if we go to someone here, though?”
Chad shook his head. “No. A walk-in clinic would only check ID if we were using insurance. We’ll pay cash.”
Jennie nodded. “Okay. We’ll go soon,” she said and went back into the bathroom to get dressed.
“I’ll go start the pudding,” he said wryly as he left the room.
He was sure she was losing weight instead of gaining. Chad shoved down the irritation, knowing it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t keep healthy food down. His urge to fix things, to make everything all better for her, was overwhelming. Because, it seemed, as hard as he tried, he couldn’t fix this for Jennie. He couldn’t take care of her and the baby if he couldn’t even figure out how to get her to keep food down. And that knowledge ate at him.
The sharp metallic smell of blood and the cruel odor of twisted, burned flesh invaded Chad’s nose, bringing him back to consciousness with a start. Chopper blades sounded overhead, letting him know his men would get to safety. An extraction team would get them out.
The pressure and pain in Chad’s chest penetrated the cloud in his head. He struggled for a full breath of air, but none came. He couldn’t fill his lungs.
Chad turned his head to a medic crouched by his side—the man’s shirt was covered in blood. The medic spoke to Chad, but the noise of the helicopter drowned out the sound. His lips moved, but nothing came out. The needle he was pushing into Chad’s chest drew all of his attention as the pain came alive.
He turned his head away from the pain, but immediately wished he hadn’t. Jennie lay beside him, her body limp and lifeless, her eyes open but no longer seeing. Chad struggled to get up, but his body was frozen. He couldn’t move to help her. He cried out to her, but she didn’t move.
He was panicked and weak with fear as he realized Jennie’s body was covered in blood, a gaping hole in her stomach where his baby, their baby should be.
“Jennie!”
He struggled to move, then turned to yell at the medic to help her, but the man just kept talking calmly to Chad as if nothing was wrong. As though he couldn’t see that Jennie needed him. That she needed to be saved.
“Jennie!” He called to her again and again, but she didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t turn to him. She didn’t move at all.
