by Bromberg, K.
The only thing I know for sure is that he’s just as lost and confused as I am, but deep down, I fear he feels this way for the exact opposite reason I do.
“Hey,” he says softly as a soft smile tugs up the corner of his mouth. I can feel his hands tremble slightly. “You scared the shit out of me, Ryles.”
“Sorry. Are you okay?” My voice sounds sleepy, sluggish.
Colton looks down and shakes his head with a stilted laugh. “You’re the one in the hospital bed and you ask me if I’m okay?” When he looks up I see the tears welling in his eyes. “Rylee, I …” He stops and blows out a breath, his voice swamped with emotion.
And before he can say anything further there is a knock on the door jamb. It’s Dr. Andrews asking if it’s okay for her to return. Neither of us even realized she had left because we were so absorbed in one another.
“Are you ready for your answers?”
I nod at her, hesitant and yet needing to know. Colton releases me momentarily—the loss of his touch startling to me—as he puts his arms through his sweatshirt. He comes back to take my hand in his as she walks back over to the side of the bed and sighs. “Well, unfortunately nothing I can tell you is concrete because we only had the aftermath of everything to try and piece together. Now that you’re a little more coherent than when we first met, do you mind telling me what you remember?”
My head feels like I’m swimming underwater but I go through everything I remember, up to sitting on the bathroom floor and then nothing until I was here. She nods and makes some notes on her iPad. “You’re very lucky Colton found you when he did. You’d lost quite a lot of blood and by the time you reached us you were going into hypovolemic shock.”
There are so many questions I want to ask her … so many unknowns my mind is still processing. I glance over at Colton and hesitate to ask the question I want answered the most because of everything we went through with Tawny. So I opt for another one that’s been nagging at my mind.
“How far along was I?” My voice is soft and Colton holds my hand tight. The idea that I’d ever even get to ask those words strikes me to the core. I was carrying a baby. A baby. My chin quivers as I try desperately not to cry again.
“We’re guessing around twelve to fourteen weeks,” she says, and I squeeze my eyes shut trying to comprehend what she’s telling me. Colton’s fingers tense around mine, and I hear him exhale a controlled but uneven breath. She waits a beat to let everything sink in before continuing. “From what we can tell, you either experienced a placental abruption or a complete previa where the vessels burst.”
“And what does that mean?”
“By the time you were admitted, the bleeding was so extensive and so far advanced we can only guess as to the cause. We are assuming it was a previa because we rarely see an abruption this early on in a pregnancy unless there is some sort of violent trauma to the abdomen and …”
She keeps talking but I don’t hear another word, and neither does Colton, because he’s off of my bed in an instant, legs pacing, body vibrating with negative energy, and anger etched in the lines of his face.
And it’s so much easier for me to focus on him and the explosion of emotions on his face than my own. My overwhelmed brain thinks that by looking at him, I don’t have to face how I feel. I don’t have to wonder if I pushed Zander’s dad a little too hard, a little too much, and I am the reason this all happened.
Dr. Andrews looks at him and then back at me, concern in her eyes, as I relay the events of the day. Each time I mention Zander’s father hitting me, I can physically see Colton’s agitation increase. I don’t know what this is doing to Colton, not sure where exactly his head is or how much more he can take, and I’m afraid of so many things because I know how I feel.
“That very well could have been the cause—the trigger of everything—that led to the miscarriage,” she says after a few seconds.
I squeeze my eyes shut momentarily and force a swallow down as Colton barks out a curse under his breath, his body still restless, his hands clenching into fists. And I study him, trying to read the emotions flickering through his eyes before he stops and looks at me. “I need a fucking minute,” he says before turning and barreling out of the doorway.
Tears return and I know I’m an emotional mess, know that I’m not thinking clearly when the notion flickers through my mind that Colton’s mad at me for being pregnant, not because the loss of our child. I immediately push the thought away—hate myself for even thinking it—but on the heels of the past few weeks and everything we’ve been through, I can’t help it. And then that thought causes so many more to spiral out of control that I have to tell myself to get a grip. That Colton cares about me, wouldn’t walk away from me because of something like this. I force myself to focus on answers and not the unknown.
And without another thought, the next question is off of my tongue and hanging in the air still vibrating with Colton’s anger. “Is it possible for … can I get pregnant again? Would I be able to carry to term?”
She looks at me, sympathy flashing over her stoic face, a sigh on her lips, and tears welling in her eyes. “Possible?” She repeats the word back to me and closes her eyes for a moment as she gently shakes her head back and forth. She reaches out and grabs my hands in hers and just stares at me for a moment. “This wasn’t supposed to be possible, Rylee.” Her voice breaks, my grief and disbelief obviously affecting her.
“I’d hope fate wouldn’t be cruel enough to do this to you two times and not give you another chance.” She quickly dashes away a tear that falls and sniffles. “Sometimes hope is the most powerful medicine of all.”
I can feel him before I even open my eyes, know he is sitting beside me. The man who waits for no one is waiting patiently for me. My body sighs softly into the thought and then my heart wrings at the thought of a little boy lost forever to me—dark hair, green eyes, freckled nose, mischievous grin—and when I open my eyes, the same eyes in my imagination meet mine.
But his eyes look tired, battle weary, and concerned. He leans forward and takes the hand I’m reaching out.
“Hey,” I croak as I shift from the discomfort in my abdomen.
“Hey,” he says softly, scooting forward to the edge of his seat, and I notice his shirt has been replaced with a pair of hospital scrubs. “How are you feeling?” He presses a kiss to my hand as my tears well again. “No.” He rises, sitting his hip on the edge of my bed. “Please don’t cry, baby,” he says as he pulls me against his chest and wraps his arms around me.
I shake my head, feelings running a rampant race of highs and lows through me. Devastated at the loss of a child—a chance that I might not ever get again despite the dash of possibility this whole situation presented—and at the same time guilty feeling relief because if I had been pregnant, where would that leave Colton and me?
“I’m okay,” I tell him, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, drawing strength from the steady pulse beating beneath my lips, before leaning back on my propped up pillows so I can look at him. I blow out a breath to get my hair out of my face, not wanting to use my hand and break our connection.
The look in his eyes is so intense, jaw muscle clenching, lips strained with emotion, that I look down at our joined hands to mentally prepare myself for the things I need to say to him but fear his responses. I take a deep breath and begin. “We need to talk about this.” My voice is barely a whisper as I raise my eyes back up to meet his.
He shakes his head, a surefire sign of the argument that’s about to fall from his lips. “No.” He squeezes my hand. “The only thing that matters is that you’re okay.”
“Colton …” I just say his name but I know he can hear my pleading in it.
“No, Ry!” He shoves up off the bed and paces the small space beside it, making me think of him on the side of the freeway yesterday, overwhelmed with guilt. Was it just yesterday? It feels like a lifetime has passed since then. “You don’t get it, do you?” he shouts at me, making
me cringe from the vehemence in his voice. “I found you,” he says, his eyes angled to the ground, the break in his voice nearly destroying me. “There was blood everywhere.” He looks up and meets my eyes. “Everywhere … and you …you were lying in the middle of it, covered in it.” He walks to the edge of my bed and grabs both of my hands. “I thought I’d lost you. For the second time in one fucking day!”
In an instant, his hand is holding the back of my neck tightly and he’s pressing his lips possessively against mine. I can taste the raw and palpable angst and need on his tongue before he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, hand still tight on the back of my neck while his other one comes up and cups the side of my cheek.
“Give me a minute,” he whispers, his breath feathering over my lips. “Let me have this okay? I just need this … you … right now. To hold you like this because I’ve been going out of my fucking mind waiting for you to wake up. Waiting for you to come the fuck back to me because, Ry, now that you’re here, now that you’re in my life … become a part of me, I can’t fucking breathe without knowing you’re all right. That you’re coming back to me.”
“I’ll always come back to you.” The words are out of my mouth before I can think, because when the heart wants to speak it does so without premeditation. I hear him breathe in a shaky breath, feel his fingers flex on my neck, and know how hard the man who’s never needed anybody is desperately trying to figure out what to do now that the one thing he’s never wanted he suddenly can’t do without.
We sit like this for a moment, and as he leans back to press a kiss on the tip of my nose, I hear the commotion before I see her barrel into the room. “Christ on a crutch, woman! Do you enjoy giving me heart attacks?” Haddie is through the door and at my side in an instant. “Get your hands off of her, Donavan, and let me at her,” she says, and I can feel Colton’s lips form into a smile as he presses them against my cheek. Within seconds I am engulfed in the whirlwind that is Haddie, held tight as we both start crying. “Let me look at you!” she says, leaning back, smiling through the tears. “You look like shit but are still beautiful as ever. You okay?” The sincerity in her voice makes the tears well again, and I have to bite my lip to prevent them from falling. I nod and Haddie looks up and over my bed, and meets Colton’s eyes. They hold each other’s gaze for a few moments, emotion swimming in both of their eyes. “Thank you,” she tells him softly, and I close my eyes for a moment as the enormity of everything hits me.
“No tears, okay?” Her hand’s squeezing mine and I nod my head before I open my eyes.
“Yeah.” I blow out a breath and look over to meet Colton’s eyes. There’s something there I can’t latch onto, but we’ve both been through so much in the past few days it’s probably emotional overload.
We sit for some time. Each moment that passes, Colton becomes more withdrawn, and I can tell Haddie notices it too but she just keeps chatting away as if we aren’t in a hospital room and I’m not mourning the loss of a baby. And it’s okay that she is, because as usual, she knows just what I need.
She’s in the middle of telling me that she’s spoken to my parents and they’re on their way up from San Diego when her phone receives a text. She looks at it and then looks over at Colton. “Becks is down in the parking lot and wants you to come show him where to go.”
He gives her an odd look but nods, kissing me on the forehead and smiling softly at me. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
I smile back at him and watch as he walks out the door before looking over at Haddie.
“You want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?” I laugh, expecting nothing less than her frankness. “I mean shit.” She blows out a breath. “I told you to have reckless sex with him, clear the cobwebs and shit. You couldn’t be any more Jerry Springer if you tried. Getting knocked up, wrestling a gun-wielding man, and miscarrying a baby you didn’t even know you were carrying.”
The tears come now—tears of laughter—because anyone else listening to this conversation would think Haddie is being callous, but I know deep down she is dealing with her sudden anxiety the only way she knows how—with sarcasm, and then some. And for me, it’s my own personal therapy because it’s what I’ve clung to the past two years on the really rough nights after Max’s accident.
She’s laughing with me too but her laughter is chased by tears as she looks at me and continues. “I mean who knew the man had sperm with super powers that could just swoop on in, rescue and repair a broken womb like a damn superhero?”
I choke out a cough, startled by what she’s just said because I’ve never told her about Colton and his superheroes, never wanting to betray his trust. And she never notices, she just keeps going. “From now on, every time I see a Superman logo, I’m going to think it stands for Colton and his super sperm. Breaking through eggs and taking names.”
I laugh with her, all the while silently smiling softly at her words and looking toward the doorway, wanting him—needing him—to come back in the worst way.
“How’s he doing?” she asks after her laughter tinged tears slowly abate.
I shrug. “He’s not really addressing the—the baby.” I struggle even saying the word and squeeze my eyes shut to try and push the tears back. She squeezes my hand. “He won’t say it but he blames himself. I know he thinks that if he hadn’t left me at the house alone then Zander’s dad wouldn’t have been there. Wouldn’t have hit me. I wouldn’t have …” And it’s silly really that I can’t say the words—miscarriage or lose the baby—because after all this time, you’d think my lips would be used to saying them. But each time I think it … say it, I feel like it’s the first time.
She nods her head and looks at me before looking down at our joined hands. I wait for her to speak, one of her Haddie-isms to fall from her mouth and make me laugh, but when she looks up, tears are welling in her eyes. “You scared the shit out of me, Ry. When he called me … if you could have heard what he sounded like … it left no doubt in my mind how he feels about you.”
And of course my eyes tear up because she is, so she stands and shifts to sit on the bed next to me, pulling me into her arms and holding on tight—the same position we’d spent hours in after I lost Max and our baby. At least this time, the burden weighing down on my heart is a little lighter.
I FEEL LIKE I’M IN a parade as Colton pushes my wheelchair toward the hospital’s exit. I don’t need the wheelchair but my nurse says it’s hospital policy. My mom is chatting quietly with Haddie and my dad is listening with a half smile on his face because even he isn’t immune to Haddie’s charm. Becks is pulling the Range Rover up front for Colton while Sammy stands at the entrance to the hospital, wary of any press who luckily have not caught wind of the story. Yet.
Colton is quiet as he pushes me, but then again he has been for the better part of the last two days. If it were anyone else I’d chalk his withdrawal up to the unexpected meeting with my parents. I mean, meeting your significant other’s parents is a huge step in any relationship, let alone someone like Colton who has a nonexistent history with this kind of thing. Add to that meeting your girlfriend’s parents after she miscarried a baby she never knew existed.
But not Colton—no—it’s something different. And as much as I love my parents for rushing up here, Haddie and her nonstop humor, Becks with his unexpected wit, and every other person who has stopped by to wish me well, all I want is to be alone with Colton. When it’s just the two of us he won’t be able to hide from me and ignore whatever is on his mind. The silence is slowly smothering us, and I need us to be able to breathe. I need us to be able to yell and scream and cry and be angry—get it all out—without the eyes of our families watching to make sure we don’t crack.
Because we need to crack. We need to break. Only then can we pick up each other’s pieces and make each other whole again.
I glance behind me and steal a quick glance at Colton and his sedate expression. I can’t help but wonder what if Zander’s dad hadn’t happened?
What if I was still pregnant? Where would we be then?
Don’t focus on that, I tell myself, even though it’s all I can think of—me being pregnant. It feels like such a real possibility, tangible even, that it’s constantly flickering through my mind. Colton stops the wheelchair as we exit the doors of the hospital and walks around the front of me. His eyes meet mine, a softness to the intensity that I’ve noticed there over the past few days. A smile creeps over his lips. Could I ever walk away from this man because I want a child and he doesn’t? Would I be willing to leave the one man I know I can’t live without for the one thing I once thought I’d do anything to have?
No. The answer is that simple. This man—damaged, beautiful, work-in-progress man—is just too much of everything I need to ever walk away from.
Colton leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips as guilt flickers through me for even thinking such thoughts. “You doing okay?”
I reach up and place my hand softly on the side of his cheek and smile with a subtle nod of my head. “Yeah, you?”
The grin lights up his face because he knows I’m referring to the looks we’ve both seen my dad giving him as he figures out if this man is good enough for his little girl. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he says with a wink and a shake of his head as he stands up, eyes still locked on mine, smile still warming my heart. “Do you doubt my abilities?”
“No, that’s one thing I most definitely do not.” I laugh and stop when he tilts his head to the side and stares at me. “What?”
“It’s just good to see you smile,” he says softly before his eyes cloud and he averts his attention to something over my shoulder. When he looks back his eyes are clear and his expression is gentler. “You ready to blow this joint?”