softly. “What about the baby?”
The nurse’s face flashes with uncertainty, probably wondering if she’s breaking the law by confirming this information.
I notice her name on her badge. I fish my own ID out of my pocket.
“Nurse Raines, my name is Jackson Healey. Natasha and I have been separated for almost a year now. She is engaged and pregnant with her fiancé’s child. However, as you said, I am still her emergency contact. I’m also an attorney. I assure you it’s perfectly legal to give me this information.”
She sighs tiredly. “Mrs. Healey has been admitted.”
“May I see her?”
“Room 332. Just take the elevator.”
“Thank you.”
Finding the room is easy enough. Before I step inside, I take a long, steadying breath, mentally preparing myself for what I might find behind the door. I sigh with relief when I see her sitting up in bed, staring blankly at the TV on the wall.
“Tash?”
Her eyes find mine.
“Jackson? What are you . . .”
I walk slowly over to the bed. She looks okay. Tired, but okay. Her face isn’t bruised, at least.
“Apparently, I’m still your emergency contact number.”
“Oh.” She bows her head. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her as I sit down in a nearby chair. “What’s wrong?”
“I woke up with horrible stomach cramps. I was scared, so I called a cab.”
“A cab? Where’s David?”
“Out of town. Like always.”
She stares straight ahead, her eyes vacant and so far away. She looks so lost, but I can see our son’s face in the shape of her nose and the point of her chin, and it makes my heart ache.
“Natasha, is the baby okay?”
She looks at me, and now, I can see the tears in her eyes.
“I lost the baby.”
Out of pure instinct, I reach for her hand and give it a comforting squeeze.
“I’m so sorry, Tash.”
“The doctor says these things happen sometimes,” she says, sniffling softly. “Stress, most likely. David and I . . . we fight a lot. Babies can sense these things, you know. Maybe he—or she—just decided they didn’t want me for a mother. Or David for a father. Or, maybe, God just decided I didn’t deserve another baby. I did such a terrible job with my first. I didn’t really deserve a second chance. Besides, David’s gone all the time. He really didn’t want this baby.” Her voice falls, lifeless and somber. “I really don’t think he loves me.”
I close my eyes in quiet resignation.
“I don’t think so, either, Tash.”
She smiles sadly. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being honest. For being here.”
“You’re welcome.”
Sighing softly, Natasha focuses on our hands, still linked.
“I missed our court date this morning.”
“It’s okay. We’ll work it out.”
She nods and stares off into space once again.
“I’ve been thinking, Jackson. I think I need a fresh start. A true fresh start. Away from Nashville. Away from . . . all my failures.”
“Where would you go?”
“Did I tell you that Dad retired?”
I shake my head.
“He and Mom live in Florida now. Doesn’t that sound nice? Florida.”
I smile softly. “That does sound nice. Especially with winter coming soon.”
She nods. “So, I think that’s where I’ll go. Florida. What do you think?”
“I think you need to get away from David Nichols. And I think your parents would love to see you.”
She nods.
“You’ll need help, though. I’ll make all the arrangements. I’ll even hire movers. Just give me your parents’ address and I’ll have everything shipped down there. I really don’t want you going back to David’s house.”
Natasha squeezes my hand. “You’re sweet, but you don’t have to help me.”
“I want to.”
“Why?”
As I gaze at my wife, I try to remember the last time we made each other happy. With the exception of the birth of our son and maybe our wedding day, I can’t recall a single moment when we were truly happy together. We were young, and we thought we were in love. At least, I thought I was.
I know better now.
But, despite all the heartache we inflicted on each other, I will be forever thankful to Natasha, because without her, I wouldn’t have my son.
“I want to help you because you gave me the most beautiful boy in the whole world. I can’t imagine my life without him in it. I will always—always—be grateful for that.”
“Will he hate me?” she asks, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. “Ryder, I mean. Will he hate me forever?”
I’m not sure what to say, because I can’t promise he won’t. She left him, and she’s leaving him again. That’s the choice she’s making. Ryder can’t