“Looks like I picked the right shift today,” he smiles and collapses onto the wheely chair in front of the computer, “Have you seen all the cops out there? There’s even FBI.”
He’s also clueless. It’s obvious that no one told him anything except that there’s a pregnant woman in shock downstairs and he needs to make sure mom and baby are still alive.
“Yeah,” I clear my throat, “you should’ve seen all the blood,” I glare at him from across the bed.
Meyers glances at the dried splatter dotting my skin and then cracks a smile, “Sick, man,” he smirks, clearly impressed.
I take a deep breath and rake my teeth over my bottom lip. Then feel Brett’s hand squeeze mine. She’s giving me a look like I’d better not make a scene. No sooner do I look up and Meyers is snapping on some purple nitrile gloves from the holder on the wall and starts adjusting the bed with the foot pedal at the base. Once it’s completely flat, he plants his ass at the end of the bed.
“Just going to give you a quick exam and we’ll go over your results.” He talks like he’s doing a mindless task as he raises Brett’s blanket up to her waist.
Pelvic exams are nothing to her at this point, so she looks more annoyed than anything at having to endure another one, no matter how brief. Meanwhile, my blood pressure starts rising again and I tighten my jaw as he gently pushes her knees apart until they’re flat on the bed.
“Ultrasound looks good,” Meyers says cheerfully while reaching between her legs, “oxygen levels are stable, which is the biggest issue when you’re dealing with shock,” he goes on, staring at some random spot near the ceiling while he feels around.
Brett’s cheek twitches and her muscles tense ever so slightly at the discomfort. If this asshole doesn’t wrap it up soon, I’m going to tear his fucking arm off and beat him with the bloody end of it. What’s a little more carnage today? What the hell is he even looking for? Brett lifts my hand, breaking my concentration. She must’ve noticed the utter disdain on my face while Meyers is knuckle-deep in her pussy. She pulls my arm to her chest and presses her lips to the back of my hand.
Colson, stop, she mouths, her cheeks threatening a smile.
This shouldn’t bother me. I’ve been to every one of Brett’s OB appointments. I don’t think twice about watching a 40-something-year-old woman perform a pelvic exam and gush about her own children to Brett while she does it. But, for some reason, it hits different when it’s some teenage-looking douchebag who looks like he became an OB/GYN for the sole fact that he gets to stick his fingers in vaginas all day.
“Perf.” Meyers pulls the blanket back down and starts ripping off his gloves with a snap. He readjusts the bed to its original incline and then moves across the room to the computer bolted to the wall. “Let’s keep you overnight to make sure your oxygen levels remain stable. Your OB—who’s that?” he squints at the screen, searching for the name, and then starts chuckling like a fucking stoner when he finds it, “Sorrell, right on…” I don’t know why that’s interesting to him, but he’s starting to grind on my nerves. “Anyway,” Meyers swivels around, “she’ll probably want to see you every week or two for a while to make sure everything still looks good. Stress is a bitch.”
Brett’s staring at him with amusement. I just want him out of the room.
He glances back at the screen, “Says here that you ran…half a mile through the woods?” he doesn’t sound like he believes the last part.
“Yes,” Brett sighs.
“Like,” he glances at the notes again, “on the mountain?”
“Yes,” she replies with the same serene tone.
Meyers shifts his gaze from her face, to her belly, and back again, “How?” he blurts out in disbelief.
“Can’t you?” she says through smug eyes.
Meyers laughs under his breath, “Pregnant chicks are tough,” he shrugs to himself, accepting her response, “but that pain you described—it’s gone now, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Brett knits her brow, “it went away right after I got here.”
“Round ligament pain,” he declares, tossing his hair out of his eyes, “it can start around the second trimester and happens when you’re active, so running will do it.”
Brett’s never experienced it during all the other times she’s run through the woods with me, but all those other times weren’t like this one. You can’t duplicate that kind of fear and that much adrenaline pushing you harder and faster than ever before. And if I have anything to do with it, she never will again.
“It’ll lay you out if you’re not careful,” Meyers continues as he rises from the chair, “doesn’t last long, though, so if you’re a runner, just stop if it gets bad and don’t push yourself.”
I shoot Brett a look and a smile plays on her lips.
I doubt that’ll be a problem from now on…
“Well, good luck!” Meyers reaches for my hand and shakes it, giving me a once-over. I cleaned Brett up, but I’m still streaked with dried blood and dirt. Meyers flashes his eyebrows at me, “I’d hate to see the other guy,” and then he waltzes out of the room, paying no mind to the platoon of law enforcement still hanging out at the nurse’s station.
As soon as he’s gone, Dallas pops through the curtain, rushing toward Brett with outstretched arms. Alex follows behind her after he finishes speaking with one of the guys outside the door.
“Brett!” Dallas shrieks, encasing her in a massive hug, “Oh my god, are you OK?”
“Yes,” Brett’s muffled voice can barely be heard beneath Dallas’s body, “I promise we’re all fine,” she laughs, pulling Dallas back to look at her.
“Is the little sprout OK?” Dallas moves her hands down to Brett’s belly, her big dark eyes wide with worry. It cracks me up how frazzled she can look when I know what she’s capable of.
Brett nods, resting her hands on top of Dallas’s, “Totally fine,” she smiles reassuringly, “I just want to get out of here, I don’t want to have to stay overnight…” she grumbles with a roll of her eyes.
“We can stay, we’ll stay until you go home,” suddenly, Dallas’s eyes go dark, “don’t you ever do that to me again!” she snaps.
Brett shoots her an incredulous look, “I don’t plan on it, Dallas!” she scoffs.
Alex grabs me and pulls me to him, clenching the back of my shirt in his fists. You’d never know it now, but he’s always been the empath, watching out for everyone even when we weren’t watching out for ourselves. Nothing derails him; he always comes through and he’ll always do whatever it takes to keep us all safe.
“Crazy motherfucking gringo…” Alex laments into my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I say sarcastically, squeezing him back, “did you forget who you’re married to?”
He lets out a haggard breath next to my head, but doesn’t let go, and neither do I. Because I know, even if just for a moment, he thought he’d lost another piece of his family. I promised him when I came back that it wouldn’t happen, and it didn’t.
After a few moments I pull back, “This part wasn’t even my idea,” I give a nod to the hospital bed, “take it up with the crazy motherfucking gringa.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
