Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
The door opened quietly. Claire looked up from Reid’s bedside as Tuck Hanlon stepped in, wearing a button-down shirt, tie loosened, and a jacket folded over one arm. His face was drawn from a long day, but something lit behind his eyes the second he saw her. “I heard.”
Claire stood. “You missed it.”
Tuck crossed the room and hugged her, one arm around her shoulders, the other steadying his own reaction. “This is really good.”
She pulled back, exhaling.
Tuck looked at Reid, then at her again. “You haven’t told them yet, have you?”
She blinked. “Told who?”
“Seth and Patrick. That you’re pregnant.”
Claire opened her mouth. Closed it. “No… not yet.”
Tuck’s tone stayed gentle. “You need them to know, sooner than later. They’ll manage your side of this right if they’re looped in.”
Claire nodded. “I’ll tell them tonight, when they come on rounds.”
Tuck gave her shoulder a final squeeze and moved toward the bed. He lowered himself into the chair beside Reid and took a long breath. “Well, you little bastard—heard you twitched on her.”
No response.
Tuck chuckled under his breath. “Should’ve figured you’d pick now to do things backward.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Listen. You don’t have to barrel through this like a damn freight train. But you can’t tap out either. You hear me?”
Stillness.
Tuck glanced at Claire then back to Reid. He shifted and softened his voice, the way he used to when Reid was a boy. “There’s someone else in this now.” He reached for Reid’s wrist, pressing his pointer finger gently over the pulse. “You’re gonna be a dad.”
Claire sucked in a breath but stayed silent. And then Reid’s fingers curled.
Deliberately.
Tuck didn’t react big, just watched and waited. There was another movement. Reid’s hand twitched.
Tuck exhaled slowly. “That’s what I thought.”
IN THE DARK
There it was again. The sound that wasn’t a sound. The vibration of meaning crashing through the murk like thunder underwater. “You’re gonna be a dad.”
The words didn’t register at first. But then pregnant. The concept lit up something buried in his brain like a detonation. Not just sound now and not just touch—there was urgency.
He wasn’t just trying to wake up anymore. He was trying to get back. Back to the woman with the voice. Back to the hand that held his. Back to the word “dad,” which burned through his chest like a command. He pulled harder than before. The fog cracked, and he pushed again. He saw light.
1810 HOURS
Tuck stepped back as Claire moved in slowly, lowering herself to Reid’s bedside. She gripped his hand, firm and certain. “I didn’t want to tell you like this. Not when you couldn’t look at me.”
Reid didn’t move. But she knew better now. Stillness didn’t mean silence.
“I thought we had time,” she whispered. “But I pretended it didn’t matter because you were dying.” Her voice caught, but she didn’t look away. “It matters.”
She placed his hand gently against her belly—she wasn’t showing yet. “You have something else to fight for now.” She leaned in. “And if you don’t open your damn eyes soon, I swear to God, I will tell our kid you were impossible from day one.”
His lashes flickered.
Claire froze. The room seemed to stop breathing.
Reid’s eyelids twitched again. They tugged upward, failed, then tried again.
Claire tightened her grip. “Come on,” she whispered. “I’m right here.”
IN THE DARK
The word pregnant echoed inside him like a bell struck hard against bone. Her voice came through clearer than ever. You have something else to fight for now.
The fog thinned. The pulse in his skull flared once—a flare of pain, not bad, but real. Then he felt light. It was not a metaphor. He clawed toward it.
His eyelids fought their own gravity, heavy, stuck, but something inside him surged. He forced one eye to lift, just a crack. And through the brightness, he saw a shape. Claire.
Tears slipped down her cheek, just one or two, but she was smiling like she couldn’t stop it. “You’re back,” she whispered.
And for the first time, without confusion, without fog, he knew who he was.
1816 HOURS
Claire’s hand flew to her mouth, half laugh, half sob. Her other hand stayed locked in his.
“Tuck,” she breathed. “Tuck…”
But Tuck was already moving. He stumbled back from Reid’s bed like he’d been struck, then spun on his heel and bolted for the door. “I need Brady and Malek in 218 now! He’s waking up!”
His shoes pounded the tile as he ran down the hall, bellowing like he didn’t care who he startled. The door swung shut behind him.
And suddenly, it was quiet again. Just her and Reid. Claire turned, still holding Reid’s gaze. His eyelids fluttered, then stilled, open now, if only barely. His pupils tracked her in uneven little arcs, dazed but present.
The tears came all at once. They came in a hot, uncontrolled flood, pouring down her cheeks as her shoulders jerked forward with silent sobs. She didn’t bother to wipe them. She clung to his hand, forehead resting lightly against the mattress.
“You’re here,” she whispered. “Jesus, you’re really here.” Her chest felt like it had cracked open from the inside.
Four weeks of silence. Four weeks of monitors and whispered prayers and stillness so heavy, it had become its own kind of grief.
And now his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes looked at her.
Claire let all of it hit her. First the ache of nearly losing him and the terror of still maybe losing him pounded her chest. The impossible burden of being pregnant and alone, and now maybe not alone at all stirred within her.
Her hand slid over his again. His fingers didn’t tighten, but they didn’t let go. She didn’t move when the door opened again, just kept her forehead against his hand.
Tuck came in first, out of breath and flushed, pushing the door wide. Seth followed close behind with a portable monitor unit, and Sita Malek walked in last, gloves already on, eyes sharp.
Claire stood up fast, stepping back instinctively, not far, just out of their way. “He opened his eyes,” she rushed out. “Twice. He looked at me.”
Seth was already confirming vitals. “BP holding. Resp rate steady. Heart rate slightly elevated but stable.”
Sita moved to Reid’s side, calm and clinical. “Reid, I’m Dr. Malek. We’re going to ask you to do a few small things, okay? Just listen and try.”
Claire hovered just behind her, her fingers pressed to her lips.
Sita held up two fingers in Reid’s line of sight. “Reid, can you blink twice if you understand me?”
Blink.
Blink.
Claire let out a sob that wasn’t quite sound.
Seth cursed under his breath, grinning, though he didn’t look up. “That’s command-following.”
Tuck crossed his arms, his eyes glossy.
Sita didn’t let the momentum slow. “Reid, can you move your left hand?”
Claire watched the sheet. Then a flutter above the blanket. Reid’s fingers twitched, curled once, weak but real.
“Left-hand movement present,” Sita said, her tone composed but just barely. “Tracking eyes. Command response. He’s emerging.”
Seth looked over at Claire now. “He’s waking up.”
Claire nodded. She couldn’t speak and couldn’t move. She just watched as Reid’s eyes lifted again, and this time, they locked on hers. And that was everything.
Sound returned first. Not all at once. Not like flipping on a switch. It trickled in beeps, murmurs, voices tethered to faces he half knew and half forgot.
His throat burned. His chest ached. Not sharp. Not tearing. Just… heavy. Like something had sat on him for days and was only now easing off.
His eyelids lifted slowly and unevenly. The lights overhead blurred, then sharpened.
There were people. Figures were moving fast. The scent of antiseptic and warm cotton filled his nostrils.
But all of it faded when his gaze found her. She was standing at the foot of the bed. Claire. There was no mistaking it. It wasn’t a dream. Her eyes were wet. Her were hands trembling. But her face was solid and real.
Mine.
He tried to move his hand. It didn’t cooperate. He tried to speak, but nothing came.
She stepped closer. “I’m here,” she said, thick and breathless.
God, he wanted to say her name. He opened his mouth. Something caught in his throat—dry, unused. He tried again. “C—” he rasped, barely moving air. He coughed.
She surged forward, catching his hand, her eyes locked on his. “You don’t have to talk,” she whispered.
But he did. He needed to. He swallowed, barely. “Claire,” he said, raw and hoarse and unmistakably himself.
The room around him shifted, someone moved, a breath caught, but all he saw was her.
She laughed and cupped his jaw with both hands. “Hi,” she said, barely holding together.
He blinked slowly. “How long?”
“Too long.”
He wanted to say more. Wanted to ask what happened, what came next, what they’d lost or saved. But all he could do was look at her.
His voice scraped out again, “You didn’t leave.”
She kissed his forehead, her lips shaking. “Not for a second.”
The room had gone quiet. The blur of voices had faded. The wires and monitors still hummed softly, but the air felt different, settled, private. The others had drifted back, letting the moment be what it was. Claire was standing right there. She hadn’t let go of his hand.
Reid blinked at her slowly. He wanted to memorize her all over again, the freckles beneath her eyes, the way her mouth twitched when she tried not to cry. He could see every line of strain and sleeplessness on her face.
And there was something else. Her fingers tightened on his. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said softly.
Reid managed a small nod. His throat ached. He couldn’t speak again, not yet, but she didn’t wait for him to try.
“Tuck figured it out the morning you got hurt.” Her voice didn’t shake, but her eyes did. “He told me after your surgery.”
He watched her, every cell in his body reaching forward.
“I waited to say it until you could hear me. I wanted it to be you.” She took a breath. “I’m pregnant.”
Reid’s breath caught in his chest, not because of shock—because it felt right. His body couldn’t move fast. His thoughts weren’t clear. But that one word, “pregnant,” rippled through him like an anchor finally sinking where it belonged.
He blinked again, tears hot in the corners of his eyes. He moved his fingers enough to squeeze hers.
Claire leaned forward, forehead touching his. “I didn’t want to do any of this without you,” she whispered.
You didn’t, he wanted to say. I’m here.
He exhaled. And he didn’t let go.