One of her hands is a road map of IV needles, hospital tape, and bruises, so I grasp her other hand.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
She shakes her head. “No. Chaser, I—”
I don’t think I’m ready to hear this. And I can’t help thinking this is somehow my fault. “I should’ve been here sooner. I’m sorry it took so long.” I slide my hand over hers, twining our fingers together and press my forehead to her knuckles, my subtle ask for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, little dove,” I whisper.
“I’m just happy you’re here now.” She squeezes my hand.
None of this seems real. Inside, I’m coming apart, but I need to hold it together and take care of my girl
Above me, she sniffles, and the sound shatters me.
“I was so scared,” she whispers through her tears. “I thought I was dying. It hurt so bad.” She stops and shines sad, watery blue eyes my way. “Chaser, I lost our baby.”
I stand and gather her in my arms the best I can with the hospital bed in our way.
All I want to do is take her home and curl up in the dark and let the crushing grief envelop us.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here with you.” I’m sick knowing that while she was suffering through this alone, I was hanging out with a bunch of degenerates, considering blowing my sobriety.
“I didn’t know,” she whispers. “Why didn’t I know? How can it hurt so much when I didn’t even know?”
In a way, I’m glad we didn’t know. It would have made this loss so much harder to endure. I don’t dare say that, though. It’s time to shut up and listen to whatever she needs to say.
“Why?” she sobs.
“I don’t know.” I kiss her temple and run my hands over her hair and down her back. “I don’t know.”
I hold her the best I can, promising her we’ll make it through this, and everything will be sunshine again.
But will it ever be okay?
Finally, she falls asleep. Slow, so I don’t wake her, I slide my arms from underneath her body and drop into the chair by her bed.
A doctor who doesn’t look a hell of a lot older than Mallory wanders into the room head down, studying a clipboard. Worried she’ll wake Mallory; I stand and quietly approach her. She picks up her head and jumps back.
“She just fell asleep,” I explain in a hushed voice.
“Are you Mr. Adams?” she whispers.
“Yeah, I just got here.”
“Good. Good. She kept asking for you.”
A few more bricks of guilt land in the emotional knapsack strapped to my back.
“Let me check a few things, then we can go out in the hallway and talk.” Obviously, I can’t stop her from doing what she came in here to do, so I hover, probably closer than appropriate. Even though she’s the doctor, I can’t stand anyone near Mallory. Waking her up, bothering her, poking at her when she needs to rest.
When the doctor finally finishes, I’m able let out a long breath and follow her into the hallway.
“All her vitals are good.” She scribbles something on her clipboard.
“When she wakes up, I’ll start her discharge—”
“She can go home already?”
“Yes. She might have some bleeding for a few days but she should be fine.”
“Do you know what caused it?” I ask.
“There’s no way to know for sure. Miscarriages are exceedingly common.” She hurries to add, “It’s not her fault or anything she did—”
“I didn’t think it was.” What kind of jerk do I look like? “Will she be okay?” I swallow hard. “Can we still have another baby?”
Her tense expression softens. “Whenever you’re ready, it shouldn’t be an issue. Most women will go on to have a healthy, full term pregnancy.”
I blow out a breath. “Good. That’s good. She really wants kids. She’s so great with them… Jesus we didn’t even know.”
“I understand. That’s not uncommon, either.”
“What do I need to do for her?”
“Keep an eye on her. If the bleeding gets worse or doesn’t stop after a week or so, she needs to see her doctor. She might be sad. Emotional. That’s normal. Be patient with her. But if she’s not moving past it, have her talk to someone.”
“Okay.”
What else should I ask? There has to be something. I’ve never been so at a loss for words.
“Go and sit with her.” She pats my shoulder. “She shouldn’t be alone.”
Alone. What would have happened to Mallory if she’d been at home instead of