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“The best thing we can do for her now is keep her comfortable, pushing nutrients and fluids into her. We can also cross our fingers that she wakes up on her own when fully healed. Although we don't know if her injuries will have long-term effects, the fetus' heart rate remains strong. If Ava does not wake up, we will need to discuss delivering the baby when it is viable and safe to do so.”
“The baby?” My stomach dropped.Fetus?I averted my eyes away from her and directed them at the doctor.
"Uhm. Yes. She is around four weeks pregnant. I am sorry. I thought you knew.” He looked at me quizzically.
I was speechless, so he continued. "We are monitoring the baby 24/7 and will let you know if anything changes. I am very sorry. I wish I had better news for you. If you have any further questions, please don’t hesitate to ask."
The doctor nodded and silently excused himself.
Everett followed the doctor out and shut the door quietly, giving me time alone with her.
I laid my hand on Ava’s stomach and closed my eyes.
She waspregnant.
Pregnant with my baby.
Did she know?She couldn’t have.
She wouldn’t have risked the baby by sacrificing herself for me. I had so many questions. Not only was the woman I loved in a coma, but our baby, that she did not know about might not survive.
At this moment, all I wanted was for her to wake up. I just wanted to kiss her lips and thank her for saving me. To tell her how much she means to me. To tell her that I was madly in love with her. I no longer held back my tears but let them roll down my cheeks. I was not one to display my emotions, but right now, I feel my heart breaking. The pain was unbearable. Seeing her this way made me feel like my soul was torn in two.
I never left her side for the next three and a half weeks. The nurses got tired of fighting me, and I think they felt sorry for the situation. They set up a pullout couch after a week of me sleeping in the chair.
Another group of agents dealt with the killer’s body. He was identified as Benjamin Callahan, a 38-year-old morgue technician to a medical examiner. They located his apartment and found hundreds of photos of Ava and over 30 victims. They were working on locating the identity of the other victims, which took a lot of time and resources to do so. Ava was the only one that survived him for years. There was a chance she would not wake up, which tore me apart.
My boss, Javier Martinez, came into her hospital room and told me they had pulled out to use Ava as bait. He said it was for the greater good and that sacrifices needed to be made to get the killer to make a move. This was so they could catch him, he chided. Except they weren't there when she bled out. And he didn't show up until almost two weeks later, giving some half-ass apology for not telling him the plan, but that he needed it to look real.
I exploded.
I would have beaten him to a pulp if Everett hadn't pulled me off him. I would have killed him. That prick intentionally put her in danger, knowing there was a chance she wouldn't survive so that he could chase another medal. I hadn't felt a rage like this in a long time. I swore I would make sure he paid for what he did. I would end his career. He just smirked and collected another victory to display on his desk. He told all his rich friends at dinner parties how he single-handedly brought the elusive and sinister Skinner to justice. He told me he would forget my brief indiscretion due to the emotional turmoil I was dealing with. However, he expected me to return promptly to New York headquarters and spend some time with the agency shrink before being allowed back in the field.
I did not attend Sarah's funeral. I didn't intend on leaving Ava's side. The families were understanding and sympathetic, but I don't think I could have stomached seeing another person I cared about dead. I watched Sarah’s funeral via live stream and was pleased to see she was given the full police honors she deserved. She was a remarkable agent. I promised that when Ava woke up, I would go to her grave and make peace with her death.
Too many people died from this fucker. This piece of shit scum of the earth wreaked havoc on lives. It would be a long time, if ever, before healing was possible.
I could not imagine a life without Ava. A life without our baby. Jesus. When did I begin to desire a baby? I never thought of myself as father material. After being with Ava, I wanted this. I wanted to watch her belly grow big with the child we created. I wanted to hold a mini version of her with dark hair and almond-shaped eyes. I longed to come home to her and make love to her. I wanted to watch her become a mother and sing our child to sleep each night. I dreamed of having a family with her, and only with her. I was deeply in love with this woman. She stole my heart the first day I saw her, standing in her house doorway expecting us. I would give anything to feel her touch and hear her voice. Anything to tell her that we had created a life together, more precious than anything else either of us had ever done.
THIRTY-EIGHT
JAMES
Another couple of days passed, and the first snow of winter had blanketed the town overnight. As I opened the curtains, thick snowflakes continued to fall steadily, covering the ground in a fresh layer of white. I couldn’t help but admire the beauty of it. Christmas was approaching in a few weeks, and the snowy landscape felt festive and comforting.
As I approached Ava's hospital bed, my heart felt heavy. Though her physical body still lingered here, her mind remained entrapped in a coma. I said a silent prayer to God, though I had never believed before, wishing with everything I had for Him to bring her back to me.
Every night since her accident, I would whisper stories to her and our unborn child while holding her hand close to me. That night was no different. As I fell asleep next to her frail body, my head resting on her thigh, closer than I could ever get to our baby inside her...I made one last wish.
THIRTY-NINE
AVA
Iawoke slowly, my eyelids heavy and my thoughts fuzzy. The room was quiet except for the constant beeping of machines. My body ached as I tried to move, my muscles stiff and weak from disuse. Memories flashed through my mind—explosions, the killer, the knife, and nothing until now.
I opened my eyes, blinking against the harsh fluorescent light above my bed. I was in a hospital room again, this one more appealing than the first, with a fresh coat of baby pink paint and a large window with snowflakes landing softly against the dark window. I tried to speak, but my voice came out in a hoarse croak. My throat was dry and scratchy, and it hurt with each attempt.
I felt a foreign weight on my leg and looked down to see James fast asleep, using my legs as a pillow. A smile spread across my face at seeing him resting so peacefully. I watched him sleep for a moment, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He was so beautiful. His dark brown hair was wavy from sleep, and his dark lashes kissed his cheeks. His strong jawline and well-defined cheekbones gave him a handsome, chiseled look. I craved his smile. A smile that drew me in, warm and contagious, lighting up his whole face whenever he flashed it my way.
