29. Jaymie
Jaymie
Getting her to the hospital was a blur.
One second Mallory was slumped against me, pale and clammy and scaring the hell out of me—and the next we were crammed into the backseat of Darren’s ancient Honda Civic, barreling down Michigan Avenue like we were being chased.
Dar ren drove like he was auditioning for Fast & Furious , weaving through traffic, horn blaring, cursing at every red light.
“Hang in there, Mal,” he kept saying, glancing at her in the rearview. “We’re almost there.”
Mallory was curled against me, one hand on her belly, the other clenched in my sweatshirt. I had my arm around her shoulders, trying to steady her and failing. She was sweating. Shivering. Eyes closed. Breathing slow and shallow.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled once. Barely audible.
“You’re not,” I whispered back, brushing damp hair from her forehead. “But you’re going to be.”
The ER loomed ahead—bright, too sterile, too real. Connor jumped out before the car stopped moving, throwing open the door while I helped Mallory out, careful not to jostle her.
She barely made it two steps before a nurse appeared with a wheelchair, and then it was lights, questions, noise.
Everything felt loud.
Her hand was still in mine when they wheeled her into triage.
“Is this your husband?” the intake nurse asked as she started slapping a blood pressure cuff on Mal’s arm.
Mallory’s head lolled toward me. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Fiancé.”
My breath caught.
The nurse nodded like it was the most normal thing in the world and moved on, but my heart hadn’t stopped pounding since we left the rink. I kept waiting for someone to tell me to leave, to get out of the way, but no one did.
Because I wasn’t her teammate or a friend or just some guy.
I was her fiancé.
At least for now.
They moved fast—blood draw, fetal monitors, vitals.
Her blood pressure was low, the nurse said.
She was dehydrated. They hooked her to an IV and adjusted the bed so her legs were slightly elevated.
Mallory didn’t complain. She didn’t even flinch.
She just lay there, staring at the ceiling like she was watching a movie she couldn’t pause.
“You scared me,” I said quietly once we were alone in the room.
She didn’t answer.
I sat beside her bed, fingers still wrapped around hers. “You always tell everyone to stay hydrated. You carry a water bottle the size of a fire extinguisher. What happened?”
“I didn’t drink enough,” she mumbled.
“No shit.”
Her lips curved just barely. “Don’t get sassy. I’m still fragile.”
“Mallory,” I said, softer now. “Seriously. Are you okay?”
She didn’t answer right away.
“ I didn’t want to make a thing out of it,” she whispered. “It’s always something lately. I didn’t want to add more.”
“You passed out.”
“I didn’t—”
“You almost passed out,” I corrected, leaning in. “That’s not nothing. That’s not drama. That’s your body asking for help.”
She looked away. “I’m supposed to be stronger than this.”
“You are strong. And you’re also thirty-one weeks pregnant. You’re allowed to be human.”
Her eyes glistened. I squeezed her hand tighter.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I added. “You’re stuck with me, remember?”
“Fiancé, huh?”
“You said it,” I said with a grin. “I’m just playing my part.”
She let out a soft breath. “They would’ve made you leave.”
“Not a chance in hell I was walking out of here.”
***
Connor and Darren were still in the waiting room when I finally stepped out.
The chairs were too small for guys our size, but neither of them looked like they noticed.
Connor was pa cing tight circles near the window, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched like he was about to start a fight with a vending machine.
Darren looked like he’d Googled seventeen things that could go wrong during pregnancy and regretted all of them.
He looked up the second he saw me. “Well?”
I rubbed a hand over my face, dragging in a breath.
“She okay?” Connor asked, voice sharp.
I nodded. “Yeah. Dehydrated. Low BP. They’ve got her on fluids now, monitoring the baby. They’re keeping her overnight just to be safe, but everything’s stable.”
Darren exhaled so hard it came out like a whistle. “Holy shit. I thought she was gonna pass out in my car.”
“She almost did,” I said, thinking of the way her body had leaned into mine, too limp, too quiet.
Connor ran a hand through his hair and muttered, “Jesus,” like he couldn’t believe it even now. He dropped into the chair beside Darren, tension still radiating off of him.
I nodded toward them both. “Eliza’s on her way,” I said. “Darren let her know right when we pulled in.”
“I figured she’d want to know,” Darren said quickly. “She’s the coach, but also—Mallory’s, like, her person. Right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Good call.”
They didn’t ask if I was staying.
Didn’t ask if they should leave.
Con nor just scrubbed a hand down his face and said, “We’ll be here.”
No hesitation. No posturing.
Just three guys who’d spent months getting patched up by the same woman—who watched her take care of everyone but herself, and who finally saw what happened when she didn’t have anything left to give.
And I knew they meant it.