by Annie O'Neil
It took the rest of the players a moment to realize anything had happened, but Ali had already taken off from her bench at full speed, calling for a defibrillator to be brought immediately. Everything she knew about him reeled through her mind. The consistently low heart-rate, the intense training, his young age, the occasional bouts of dizziness during training he had always put down to getting overheated.
Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.
She should have seen it earlier. All the signs would’ve come together if they had scanned all of the players like the Italians were required to. Mack was having a heart attack. Sudden cardiac death in young athletes had been hitting the headlines too often lately, and it looked like this match would now hit the front page for all the wrong reasons.
As each microsecond passed his life would be in increasing danger. Her lungs tightened as she ran faster. Aidan passed her with an AED kit before she’d even become aware of him. He had obviously put the pieces of the puzzle together, as well. The crowd went collectively silent as Ali reached the group of players around Mack.
One of the opposing team players was already doing compressions on Mack’s chest.
“Did you check the airway?” Aidan knelt down opposite the player.
“Yes, Doc. No heartbeat.”
The player continued his compressions until Aidan indicated that they should switch roles. “Ali! Grab the AED.”
She took the player’s place, checking the switches on the automated external defibrillator. They glowed green. Aidan must’ve flicked it on while running. These portable devices were a godsend in this sort of scenario. The only truly effective way to shock the heart back into action.
If Mack’s heart was strong enough...
Without seeing a scan it was impossible to say, but Ali would have bet any amount of money it would reveal a thickened wall of heart muscle around the septum, where the left and right sides of the heart were separated. When the muscle between the lower heart chambers thickened blood flow could be blocked—particularly when the body was undergoing intense physical strain.
“Pulse?” Aidan looked to her for an answer.
Ali placed her fingers on both Mack’s wrist and his carotid artery. Nothing. She shook her head.
“Are you charged?”
“Yes.”
Ali rucked up Mack’s shirt, stopping only for Aidan to finish a series of compressions. He lifted his hands so she could place the electrode pads on his bare chest. She gave each cable a quick tug to ensure they were firmly in place.
“Clear!”
Aidan raised his hands. She pressed the shock button and watched as the voltage bucked through Mack’s chest. Aidan began chest compressions again. Thirty chest compressions and then two breaths of air. It would be up to two minutes before the AED could read Mack’s obs and let them know if it had worked—if they’d tricked his body into working again.
She held her breath along with the rest of the crowd, her eyes trained on Aidan’s woven fingers as he pressed the ball of his hand into Mack’s chest again and again.
She tried to picture everything happening inside of the young player’s body. With his heart in a state of ventricular fibrillation nerve impulses would still be shooting from the brain, but so irregularly the heart would not be receiving a strong enough message to continue expelling blood into the circulatory system.
The AED should have shocked his heart into a regular heartbeat...
“Again.”
She didn’t need to be asked twice. It hadn’t worked. She’d already prepped the charging pads with gel.
“Clear!”
Aidan began compressions again. At least two minutes had passed. Two incredibly precious minutes. The microscopic child inside her would have found it impossible to battle those odds. Mack was a fit twenty-two-year-old man. She prayed he had better chances.
After four to six minutes the brain would begin to suffer from oxygen deprivation and cells would begin to die. Each second ticking away as Aidan’s hands systematically pulsed out an artificial heartbeat were buying time for the shock they’d just sent through Mack’s body to stop the heart’s spasm. If it worked this time his nerve impulses would resume their normal pattern and his heart would resume its normal pacing. If it was strong enough.
“Twenty-nine. Thirty.”
They both leaned back on their heels and looked at the AED for a reading.
It was slight. But it was there.
Relief washed through Ali. It was near impossible to hold back the tears. Mack had made it. He wasn’t out of the woods, but he was with them. She looked up, surprised to realize that an ambulance had arrived on the pitch and the players had formed an orderly row, heads all bowed as each man made a silent prayer for his fellow player.
“Load him up!” Aidan called to the medics. “You’ll be all right?”
Aidan rubbed a hand along her arm as he indicated that he would be going along with the paramedics to the hospital. It was impossible to tell if his eyes were asking her something more—something deeper.
She would be all right. One day.
As Ali watched the ambulance doors closing Aidan out of her sight, she felt all of her senses come back into play, as if she’d flicked them off one by one in order to focus on Mack. Sight, sound, touch—everything returned to her with an added appreciation that she was there at all. She was aware of the scent of the grass, the somber applause from the crowd as the ambulance left the arena, the bright, bright blue sky above them on the crisp March day. The gratitude she felt for the gift of life growing within her.
Ali’s hands slipped to her belly as she strode off the playing field. It was growing within her. Life. Precious, precious life. And she would do everything in her power to make sure her baby had the best shot at happiness she could offer.
* * *
The ride to the hospital had been tense, to say the least. Mack’s heart had failed again. And one more time as they’d entered the A&E courtyard. Aidan had ridden atop the gurney, pressing an endless flow of syncopated pulses into Mack’s body, willing his young heart to hold on.
A half hour later the player was still in Critical Care, but had been stabilized for the time being. Aidan stood outside his room, barely hearing the beeps and whirrs of all the equipment the young man was connected to. Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It would change Mack’s life forever.
He should stick around to tell him the news. It wasn’t the sort of thing he should hear from a stranger. His family—parents and two sisters, who had been watching the game—had been told. They were surrounding him now, his mother holding on to her son’s hand as if it would give him the extra strength he needed. Perhaps it would. He wouldn’t know about that sort of thing. His mother hadn’t stuck around long enough to see him through much of anything.
Aidan turned away from the room and shrugged off the thought. He’d passed being bitter about that part of his life long ago. It was just one of the compartments he’d shut and closed before he’d moved on to the next compartment and the next.
His phone bleeped as a message appeared on the screen. It was Coach Stone.
We won. Tell the boy.
He looked back at Mack’s room with a smile. At least he would have some good news when he woke up.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ALI KNEW HIDING out in the ICU wasn’t the most secret of locations, but her fingers were crossed that Aidan wanted to enjoy the celebrations with the team. She’d seen neither hide nor hair of him when she’d arrived in the department, and had just assumed he’d stayed with the team after he’d returned to update them about Mack.
Visiting hours were over, so Mack’s family had had to leave. Ali had pushed her train journey to London back a few hours so she could sit with him a bit. If he woke up over the course of the evening it’d be nice for him to
have someone there he knew.
She pulled a chair over from the corner of the room and parked it next to Mack, who was sleeping like a baby. A big, muscly baby, who had scared the living daylights out of everyone on and off the pitch today. He’d have some big decisions to make about his future. He was an amazing player, and rugby was his very raison d’être. But was it worth it if the sport could take his life? Maybe he would take a page out of Jonesey’s book and go back to uni.
Ali looked upward to the invisible heavens, grateful that her decisions weren’t life or death. She propped an elbow on the side of Mack’s bed and cupped her chin in her hand. Her decisions were very much about life. Her life. Her baby’s. Aidan’s...
“Oh, Mack...” she whispered. “How am I going to tell him?”
“Tell him what?”
Ali froze at the sound of Aidan’s voice. She barely trusted herself to turn around, let alone start speaking. There was a pretty big list she could spool out. She could tell him she was carrying his child—their child. Tell him she wanted to keep it more than anything in the world, which had completely taken her by surprise.
Falling pregnant had already made her feel more alive than she could possibly have imagined. More accurately, falling pregnant by the man she was absolutely bonkers, head-over-heels in love with had brought out a side of her she’d never known existed. A life-charged, high-beamed wonder that just being alive could be so good—and so heartbreakingly difficult.
She could tell him all those things. But she wanted to make it easier for him. Make the transition back into his old life fluid. Simple. She wanted him to be happy.
“Is it Mack? Any updates?”
Ali swiped at the tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. “Yes. No. I mean, he’s stable. Not totally out of the woods yet—but he’ll make it. Indications are he has a strong enough heart to beat this.”
If only hers was as strong.
“Excellent work out there on the field today.”
The compliment felt like one she might get from one of the players. One usually accompanied by a punch on the arm or a playful elbow-jab. Was that ultimately how he saw her? As one of the lads? A ladette with benefits?
She let her head fall back into her hands as her mouth formed into a silent scream.
Noooooooooooooooooo!
She’d told herself again and again that that was the reality, but there had been a part of her that had believed otherwise. Had hoped he might love her.
How could she have let herself be so foolish? She cracked an eye open, sizing up Aidan through her fingers. He was still there. He was looking deeply uncomfortable, but he was still there. Each gorgeous little centimeter of him, his brow rising in—bewilderment? Concern?
A deep-seated sense of resolve began to steady her, to clear her thoughts, so that only a single truth remained. She was having a baby and would do anything in the world to protect it. Aidan had a right to know. Then she and her baby could get on with their lives.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?”
* * *
Aidan put down the paper cups of tea on the table and closed the door to the conference room they’d slipped into. Ali had been worryingly silent as they’d first gone to the cafeteria, then wandered through the hospital trying to find a quiet corner.
What on earth could she need to tell him behind closed doors?
As the door clicked into place, so too did the bits of information whirling around his head. Each little piece dropped into perfect place. The nausea. The dizziness. Those looks weighted with so much more than the feelings of a woman building up to a bittersweet farewell.
“You’re pregnant.”
Everything went into a strange slow motion. A feeling akin to seeing the towering waves arch and curve toward him all those years ago. He could hear the roar of the ocean in his ears as he watched Ali nod a confirmation, her teeth pressing into her lower lip, her eyes trained on him.
“How far along?”
“About eight weeks or more. I haven’t had a scan yet.”
He skimmed a mental calendar. On or around Valentine’s Day. The first day he’d laid eyes on Miss Cosmopolitan and wanted, more than anything, to make her his.
“And you want to...?”
The words coming out of his mouth bore no relation to the thoughts pitching between his heart and his mind. A child? A baby to care for and raise and assure that the world was a safe, secure place to live in?
“I am going to keep it.”
Ali’s eyes sparked with a determination he’d not seen in her before—and that was saying something.
She raised a hand before he could interject. “Don’t worry. I’m not expecting anything.”
“Are you sure?”
The question came out before he could stem it. It wasn’t that he wanted there not to be a baby—extraordinarily, that wasn’t it at all. But this was a life-changing piece of information to take in. And she had already decided his role for him—or rather the absence of a role.
How well she knew him. She saw through his shoddy veneer of calm and bored straight to the heart of the matter. She already knew he wasn’t someone who could give Ali or the baby—his child—the stability and commitment they deserved. Sure, he did steady as they came within the confines of work—but outside the stadium... They had agreed on a one-time, one-place deal—and she was holding up her end of the bargain.
The white noise in his head grew even louder. Was it actually possible to hear the cogs whirling between one’s ears? He rubbed at his temples, the roar making it impossible to train his focus on exactly what he wanted—needed—to do.
Ali was watching him with cool reserve. She was unreadable. As the words had come out of his mouth he’d known they were off-center, but the future Ali had placed before him was one he had never let himself consider and she knew it. He’d been more than clear on that matter. Aidan Tate didn’t do long-term.
He looked into her eyes, searching for an answer—the right answer. Was she telling him what she really wanted? To be a single mother? From what he knew of Ali, she felt as let down by love as he did. Striking out on her own would be the safest way to go.
She arched an eyebrow as if daring him to question her decision. She was telling him what she wanted loud and clear. Get out of my life.
“I’m happy to contribute.”
Pathetic! C’mon, man. You’re better than this!
“Don’t worry. I’m fine in that department.”
“Of course. But you will let me know if—?”
She gave him a sad smile with a shake of her head and pushed up from the table. “I will.”
He couldn’t help letting his eyes linger on her waistline as she rose. His fingertips twitched at the thought of the smooth expanse of skin beneath the loose swing of her jumper. His hands knew every contour of her body. The dip from her rib cage along her belly—a belly that would soon grow round and pronounced. A belly he could rest his hand on and wait, eyes locked with hers, for a hiccough or a kick.
“Ali—” He rose with her and reached out.
If he could just hold her in his arms for a minute—rest his cheek on that silky black hair of hers and have a chance to digest everything—maybe he could fix this.
That her gut reaction was to pull back with a flinch told him all he needed to know. She was ready to move on and he needed to respect that. Aidan was no longer part of her life. What happened to her was now her business and hers only.
Silence was the best thing he could muster as she picked up her bag and spun her woolen scarf around her neck. If he told her he loved her he would only make things worse, more painful. As she did up the buttons of her coat it was all he could do to stop himself from asking her to stay, to see what would happen if they gave “being real” a chance. Being human—open to t
he aches and pains and joys of loving someone.
“Goodbye, Aidan.”
She laid her hand on his shoulder for just a moment. And then she was gone.
* * *
Where are you????? Ali sent the message and took another scan of the bar. Trust Cole to ask a pregnant woman to meet him at a bar. He was going to be the most inappropriate godfather going, but he was her best friend and—like it or not—he was all she had right now when it came to family.
As soon as the tease of tears began to sting at the back of her throat she took another gulp of water. Swallow it down. It’s just the hormones. Everything’s good. Exactly as you want it.
No Aidan. No broken heart.
She took another gulp of water. One day she’d believe her new mantra. Really. She would. It had already been over a week since she’d left and she was virtually swinging from the rafters with all the freedom she was feeling. Seriously. She was.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the bar mirror. Frowning. Big-time.
Okay. Maybe she’d have to work on the footloose and fancy-free thing a bit—but she’d get there.
“For the lady.”
Ali looked up at the bartender in surprise. He was placing a Cosmopolitan onto a bar mat in front of her. Er...this was going to be awkward.
“The gentleman wanted me to say it’s alcohol-free.” The bartender gave her a look, as if to say he knew it was weird, too, but whatever, he was just doing his job.
Ali’s heart lurched, before taking off at an accelerated rate. She hardly trusted herself to turn around. It would have been a bit of a no-brainer for Aidan to find her at the clinic if he’d wanted to, but over a week had gone by and she hadn’t heard a peep.
She stared at the icy rim of the cocktail glass as if it would turn into an oracle and give her some answers. Only one man knew that was her drink. A mug of tea was slid onto the bar alongside her cocktail. She arched an eyebrow at it. Not quite what she had been expecting.