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The sadness in Julia’s sympathetic eyes confirms my fears.
“You’re pregnant?”
“A few weeks,” I admit. “This isn’t a good sign, is it?”
“Your mother and Saint didn’t say anything about you being pregnant,” she replies worriedly.
The last thing I want is for them to find out about this. He’s already taken so much from me.
“My mom and stepbrother don’t know. No one does. I want it to be kept that way. Please…don’t say anything,” I reply coldly, wiping away a fallen tear. I feel like a water dam ready to burst at any second. I’m scared they’ll never stop if I give way to the tears.
Julia nods in agreement. “I may be employed by your stepfather, Lexy, but I still have a code of ethics I strongly believe in. Patient confidentiality is something I strictly abide by regardless of who my employer is.”
I try to muster up even the smallest of smiles, but I can’t.
“Thank you.”
“What about the father, does he know?”
I shake my head.
“Are you experiencing any pain in your lower abdomen?” she asks, pressing gently on my upper stomach, careful to stay away from my side.
“Yes. A lot. It’s a horrible cramping pain more than anything,” I explain.
My teeth grit together to stop myself from crying out when her hand examines my lower stomach and groin.
It hurts so much.
“I’ll run a test to check your HCG levels, then test them again in a few days,” she tells me sadly. I don’t need a test to tell me my baby is gone; I can feel it.
“Tell me the truth, doctor. You think I’ve lost the baby. Don’t you?”
My tear-filled eyes meet hers. “I’m so sorry, Lexy, but yes, it appears that you have suffered a miscarriage,” she all but confirms, her voice heavy with empathy.
And with those words, the last piece that was holding my splintered heart together shatters, leaving me broken.
Chapter Twelve
Myeyesfeelheavyand swollen when I wake up several hours later. I waited until the doctor had left before crying myself to sleep. Something that hasn’t happened since my dad died.
Something moves in the corner of my eye, and my head turns to see my mom reading a magazine by my side. The pages crinkle when she notices that I am awake.
“Mom,” I croak, my voice still raw.
“Oh, my sweet girl.” she cries, throwing her magazine onto the floor. “Thank goodness you’re okay. I’ve been worried sick.”
She strokes my hair with the palm of her hand. Her face was bare from makeup, and exhaustion was evident under her tired eyes.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” she fires out quickly. “I tried so hard to find you, but with the smoke and the fire and…”
Her face is soaked with tears.
“Mom. It’s alright. I’m here.”
She squeezes my shoulders tighter, her tears falling faster.
“I’m right here, mom. We both are. That’s all that matters.”
