Dr. Myers takes a deep breath. “She was right.”
Waylon.
I’m sorry. I love you.
Dr. Myers pats my arm. “Kailey should be waking up soon. She’s going to be very confused. This isn’t going to be easy for her. I’m going to have to tell her about the baby.”
“I’ll do it,” I say.
“Ryder, are you sure?” Addison asks, looking at her mom and dad.
“I should be the one,” I say softly.
“You’ve done enough,” her mom says coldly.
“Clara!” Henry says, taking hold of her hand. “Now isn’t the time.”
“You were supposed to protect her!” she says, the truth shooting through me.
“Ryder did not cause the accident,” Maggie starts, but Clara gets to her feet.
“He was on the phone with her when it happened,” Clara says. “Isn’t that true? That’s what all the tabloid websites are saying.”
“Perhaps now isn’t the time to get into all this,” Dr. Myers says.
“Ryder’s not family,” Clara says. “He shouldn’t even be here.”
“Why do you think you’re in this private room?” Maggie asks. “Because of him. Who do you think put you on a plane to get you here so fast?”
“Speaking of people that shouldn’t be here,” Clara says with a grin. “You can go, too, Maggie.”
Dr. Myers looks down at his beeping phone. “Kailey’s waking up.”
*
Her family and I walk with Dr. Myers down a long hallway toward Kailey’s room. She’s been assigned a private suite with its own entrance to minimize press attention. Maggie and Geoffrey are hanging back in the waiting area, but are on hand if needed.
I’m so relieved that Kailey’s okay, but another part of me is shattered about our son. I don’t know how I’m going to tell her, but it has to come from me. I’m dreading it.
We reach the suite, and Dr. Myers gives me a long look, as if he’s asking if I’m ready.
I’m not.
How could I be ready to tell her our baby boy is dead?
But this needs to come from me.
Dr. Myers must see some strength in me, because he pushes the door open. I’ve been so worried about telling Kailey about the baby, that I haven’t prepared myself for what’s behind the door, what I see upon entering.
A nurse is by her bed pressing buttons on some machines. Kailey’s arms are out of the covers. One is set in a cast, and the other is covered in bruises. There are tubes and IVs everywhere. Cuts and scrapes cover her beautiful face. One eye is already turning black and blue.
Dr. Myers’ quick summary in the waiting room didn’t prepare me to see her like this. It hurts like hell.
I remind myself it could all have been so much worse. It’s just that Kailey looks so small and fragile. Her stomach already looks flatter without our son.
Taking another step inside, Kailey turns her head towards me. Even through her bruises, her eyes find mine. Tears immediately begin to flow down her cheeks, and I rush toward her.
“No,” she says softly, like a whisper in the wind. “I don’t want to see him.”
“Kailey!” I beg, confused.
Dr. Myers’ hands land on my shoulders. “Perhaps it’s best if you wait outside.”
“Kailey, please.”
She turns her head away from me. What’s happening? I know she was upset with me about what happened at the house. She has every right to be. But with all that’s happened, the hell she’s been through, I figured she’d at least want to see me. All I want to do is hold her, but she can’t even look at me.
Dr. Myers gives me a knowing look. “We don’t want to upset her anymore.”
We both know what’s coming. What she’s facing. “I need to be with her,” I say. “Kailey?”
“I’ve got her,” Addison says, urging me to the door.
“But . . .” I plead before walking out.
The door to the suite begins to close behind me, and the last thing I see are Clara’s eyes glaring at me. Maggie and Geoffrey emerge from the waiting room and come to my side, but I push them away, sinking to the floor.
My face falls into my hands. I’m powerless again, just like at the accident. I just lost my child. Am I losing his mother, too? Have I already lost her?
I don’t get to the tell her about our son. I’m not even going to be in the room when she finds out. I wasn’t there when she found out she was pregnant, and I won’t be there when she finds out she’s not anymore. I want to scream to the heavens, to punch the wall, but it wouldn’t matter. All I can do is sit and wait.
Wait for her to be shattered.
I know the moment Kailey hears our baby is dead by her screams through the closed door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Kailey
Why couldn’t it have been me? I wonder quietly, as tears roll down my face. It’s been two and a half days since I heard the news, and I’ve asked that question at least one hundred times. Rationally, I know my baby couldn’t have survived without me, since I was only about nineteen weeks pregnant, but sadness isn’t rational.
I’d have died for my son.
I’d have died a thousand horrible, painful deaths for his life to be spared.
Looking over at my sister asleep on the hospital sofa, I wipe the tears from my cheeks. Her, my mom, and dad have been taking turns staying with me. I’m being discharged tomorrow and going back to Addison and Owen’s place for the time being. My parents would prefer I go home with them, but since my doctors are here, I’ve opted to stay closer until I’m fully recovered and have my cast off.
Quietly, I sit up. It’s a bit easier now without the tubes and IVs going in and out of me. Truthfully, I think if I was anyone else, I would’ve been discharged already, but Ryder has a way of getting what he wants, and something tells me he’s pulled strings to keep me here an extra day. And I know he hasn’t left the hospital. I heard my sister and parents whispering about it.
I haven’t seen him, and I don’t want to. I’ve told my family and the hospital staff that I don’t want to see him.
He didn’t love me when our baby was alive, so he doesn’t get to pretend to be some kind of hero now. I don’t need him to pick up the pieces of my life.
Glancing down at my belly, I close my eyes, placing my hands there. It’s almost back to pre-pregnancy size. Dr. Myers told me that I would be swollen for a few days after the procedure, but I’d soon return to “normal.”
Never thought I’d miss my pooch, but I do.
A flat stomach means my baby is gone.
I use my good arm to get to my feet, finding everything hurts, my body sore from the accident, the surgery. I’ve refused all pain medication. I want to feel every last bit of it. I need to. The pain is a reminder of my child, and I’m not ready for that to fade, not even a little bit.
Careful not to wake Addison, I walk to the door, needing to see something other than these walls. You’d think with all the bed rest, I’d be used to close quarters, but this is different. Then, I had something to look forward to. Now, there’s nothing. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel—no baby on the horizon. There’s nothing.