She gestured with her hand because she couldn’t seem to say the word, which was ridiculous, considering their sex life, but so fucking adorable.
“I’m jacking off four, five times a day, Ember.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you.”
“Then take me.”
He grinned, but it faded before he said, “I want you healthy and whole more.”
“I’m fine, Trace.”
“I know, and I’m not going to do anything to change that.” He pressed his lips to hers again. “Are you hungry?”
“I am.”
“I’ll make you something.”
“Something chocolaty.”
“You got it, sweetheart.”
He had just reached the door when she said, “Thanks for caring so much.”
“That’s like thanking me for breathing,” he said as he glanced at her from over his shoulder.
She started for the bed and stumbled. He rushed toward her.
“Ember.”
Her eyes lifted to his, but they were glazed over; her lips parted, but he couldn’t hear what she said before she just dropped.
He tried to reach her, but her head hit the dresser before she crumpled to the floor like a rag doll, and then her body started to convulse.
Trace didn’t realize he was screaming until Chelsea appeared in the doorway. Her look of horror matched his own.
“What’s wrong with her?” Trace was already at Ember’s side with a sheet in his hand as he tried to staunch the flow of blood from the head wound.
“Call nine-one-one, Chelsea, now!”
Ember’s eyes were white, the irises had rolled into the back of her head. Her body was jerking so violently, he was afraid she was going to break something, but thankfully the shakes started to subside.
“Ember, sweetheart, wake up.”
She wouldn’t open her eyes. She didn’t respond to him in any way and then he noticed the blood between her legs.
“They’re coming,” Chelsea said from the doorway before she moved to join Trace.
“What’s happening to her?”
She was dying. That was Trace’s immediate answer. He was going to be forced to watch as his wife bled to death right in front of him. He was still applying pressure to the gash on her head when the paramedics arrived. Trace hadn’t even heard the doorbell.
“I’ve got it,” said one of the paramedics as he ran into the room and knelt down next to Trace, replacing the sheet with a sterile cloth from his bag.
“Her pulse is weak and her breathing is shallow. Prepare to bag her.”
And then the next words from the paramedic shattered Trace.
“I’ve got no pulse.”
Trace called Lucien from the hospital. His friend answered on the first ring.
“Is it time?” Lucien asked.
“It’s Ember; she’s in the hospital.”
“Trace, what’s wrong? Is she having the baby?”
His next words were broken. “I need you to come.”
Trace didn’t notice when his friends came through the ER doors, because he was wild with grief.
“Where is my wife?”
The nurse was on the phone and put up her finger to Trace, signaling she needed another minute or two while she continued her conversation.
He slammed his hands down so hard on the counter it sounded like a gun blast.
“Where the fuck is my wife?”
“I’ll have to call you back.” The nurse’s hands shook as she replaced the receiver.
“Who, sir?”
“Ember Montgomery.”
“The doctors are in with her.”
“Where? I want to see her.”
“You can’t,” the nurse said, trying to be firm.
Lucien walked up to Trace. “She’s right. You want the doctors focused completely on Ember. You will only distract them.”
Trace raked his hand through his hair and felt himself losing control. He gazed back at the nurse. “Can you tell me how she is? What’s happening?”
He knew she could see the depth of his despair. She stood. “I don’t know, but I’ll go back and see what I can find out.”
She moved briskly down the hall.
“What the hell happened?” Lucien demanded.
His pain and fear were consuming him. He barely recognized his own voice. “She died. For almost a minute she was gone.” He had watched Ember die. The sight was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.
“What?” The word was ripped from Darcy’s throat on a sob.
“She was getting ready for bed. She stumbled before she just dropped to the floor, her head hit the edge of the dresser”—tears filled his eyes—“and she just crumbled and then her body started convulsing. They’re most concerned about the head wound—there could be brain trauma.” He needed a minute to fight for control before he added, “She was bleeding badly from between her legs. The paramedics think she may have ruptured the placenta when she fell.”
The nurse returned and she looked so solemn that Trace immediately thought the worst.
“The seizure was brought on