Chapter 25
DASH
“Hold on, baby.” I pinned Bryce’s hand to my chest, driving whenever I could with one hand. “We’re almost there.”
Bryce nodded against my shoulder. Her entire body was shaking. It had been like that for the last thirty miles into Clifton Forge and I was worried that she might be on the edge of getting hypothermia. Or worse, that the stress that bastard had put her through had hurt the baby.
Damn it. The bike was a habit and had been faster, but I should have stopped and taken my truck.
We were close to my house, so close that I wanted to gun it and just get there.
But I was nervous she’d fall. Except for the few times when I’d had to use both hands to get us around a tight corner or a rough patch on the mountain, I’d been holding her to me for most of the ride.
A few times, her weight had gotten so heavy on my back, I’d looked over my shoulder to see she was nearly asleep, so I’d woken her up.
She was exhausted.
When my house came into view, I exhaled. Finally. I pulled into the driveway and onto the grass, parking next to the front porch. I shut off the bike and slowly unwrapped Bryce’s arms from around me, then I stood, making sure to keep a grip on her hand.
“Where are we?” Her gaze was slow and heavy as she took in the house.
“My place.” I scooped her up and walked to the door. Her forehead felt like ice when she burrowed it into my neck.
Walking straight for the primary bathroom, I didn’t set her down as I turned on the shower to lukewarm. We’d slowly crank the temperature until the steam seeped into her bones and chased away the cold.
Should I have taken her to the hospital?
Carefully, I set her on the vanity between the double sinks. As she glanced around, her lips nearly blue, I began to pull off her clothing.
The chattering in her teeth was gone. Either she had warmed up a little or things were much worse.
“This is nice,” she whispered. “Not what I expected.”
I was too focused on getting off her clothes to respond.
She’d probably expected a bachelor’s bathroom with towels tossed on the floor and toothpaste splatters on the sinks and mirrors.
But I’d spent a lot of time and money designing this place.
I had a heated marble tile floor and coordinating countertops.
The tiled, walk-in shower could hold five people with room to spare.
There were double spouts and a rainfall head in the center.
The socks I’d put on her were on the floor, the sweatshirt gone. When I stripped off her shirt and bra, she pulled her arms in tight. Her skin wasn’t its normal smooth, creamy color. It was dotted with purple and covered in tight, angry goose bumps.
“Can you stand?” When she nodded, I picked her up and set her gently on her feet. Then I went to work on her jeans, unzipping them and pulling them down her legs, taking her panties along with them.
She stood there naked and shivering while I stepped back and whipped off my own clothes.
Bryce pressed a hand to my bare chest as I undid my jeans. “You’re cold too.”
Was I? I didn’t feel cold. From the moment that picture had hit my phone, fear had made me numb.
“Slowly.” I took her hand, helping her into the shower and under the spray. She winced when the water hit her skin. It felt room temperature to me, not even warm enough to create steam. “Too hot?”
“It’ll be okay.” She squeezed her eyes shut and the pain on her face nearly broke me.
“I’m sorry.” I wrapped her into my arms, pulling her into my body as the water ran over her shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said into my chest, giving me her weight.
We stood there, holding on to one another until she began to relax. Then I turned up the hot water, making adjustments every few minutes until we were cloaked in a box of steam and it was hard to even see her face.
Only when my fingers and toes began to loosen did I realize how cold I’d been too.
The morning air had been cool on the race to the mountain, but adrenaline, my temper and worst-case scenarios had kept me from freezing.
Then I’d been running. Literally. The guys and I had parked nearly a mile away from the cabin, hoping we’d be able to hide the sound of our bikes. Then we’d made a sprint for it.
I’d never run a mile faster in my life. And each time I’d checked, Emmett, Leo and Isaiah were right on pace, keeping up as we’d dodged trees and fallen limbs. Even Dad had kept up, showing that his daily workout wasn’t for nothing.
Christ, we’d gotten lucky. We’d gotten a jump on the guy, though as I’d dashed through the forest, my gun drawn, I’d been hunting for Genevieve, not a man cloaked in black.
What the hell had happened? When Bryce was warm, we’d talk. But for now, I was simply glad my heart was climbing down from my throat.
When the hot air filled my lungs, they loosened. The muscles in my arms relaxed. And as the color came back to Bryce’s face, some of my fears washed down the drain.
I kept her in the shower until we’d nearly run the hot water heater through. “Warmer?”
She nodded. “Much.”
“Good.” I tipped her head under the spray, then took some shampoo, massaging it in her hair and rinsing it out.
She’d smell like me today, but soon we’d get her stuff. I’d clear one of the built-in ledges for her. She could have all the space she wanted because she was here now.
Bryce was home.
She was my home.
When she was clean, I quickly scrubbed my hair, washing away the smell of panic and wind from the ride. Then I stepped out first, grabbing a towel to dry off.
“Give me your hand.” I extended my own, helping her onto the bathmat as she turned off the water.
“I can do it,” she said as I kneeled to towel off her legs.
“Let me.” I looked up at her from my knees. “Please.”
She ran a hand through my damp hair. “Okay.”
I closed my eyes, savoring that light touch. A few hours ago, I was sure I wouldn’t feel it ever again. My throat burned; a sting hit my chest. It was too much. Emotion. Fear. Love. How the hell did I process it all?
Clearing my throat, forcing it all down, I focused on my task, making sure every drop of water was gone from her skin. I squeezed the water from her hair until it was as dry as I could get with only a towel.
“Do you have a comb or br—Dash,” she gasped as I scooped her into my arms. “I can walk.”
“I need this, baby.”
“Okay.” She burrowed in close like she had earlier, this time not for the heat but for the touch.
I took her to my bed, ripping back the white down comforter I’d made flat yesterday morning. The morning before I’d known Bryce was pregnant. Before I’d spent the night working in the garage. Before she’d been taken.
That was on me. Forever, this whole thing was on me. And I’d spend forever making it up to her.
Settling Bryce under my sheet, I tucked us both in tight, turning her so I could press my chest against her back.
“Do you know . . . did they find Genevieve?” Her voice was scared and quiet.
“Don’t know yet, babe. Emmett will let me know, but in this case, no news is good news. Okay?”
Bryce clutched my arms as I wrapped them around her. She threaded her legs into mine. And there, when I could kiss the skin on her shoulder, I let one of my hands slide down and splay my fingers over her belly.
“Do you think it’s okay? The baby?”
Her breath hitched. “I hope so.”
“Me too.”
“Do you?” she whispered. “You said—”
“I know. I said I didn’t want to be a father. When you told me last night, I didn’t know what to say. How to react. The truth is . . . I’m fucking scared, babe.”
“So am I.”
I hugged her tighter. “You are?”
“Yeah. This wasn’t something I planned. I thought—hoped—maybe one day, when the timing was right. When I was married and settled. This was unexpected but . . . but I can’t say I don’t want to be a mother.”
Bryce would be a wonderful mother. She’d fight for her child—our child—like a warrior. She’d hold a firm hand. She’d give her love unconditionally. And I wanted her to have that chance.
I wanted to be along for the ride.
“What if—the stress of all this—” She sighed. “What if something happened?”
It was on our minds and neither of us would stop worrying. We might lie here, warm and quiet, but our minds were racing. Screaming what if.
Fuck it. I whipped off the covers, bouncing out of bed.
“What are you doing?” Bryce asked as I opened up a drawer in the walnut dresser in the bedroom.
“Let’s go to the doctor.”
“Now?”
“Now.” I took out a pair of jeans. “We gotta know.”
She was out of bed in a flash. “I don’t know if the hospital here will have the right equipment. It’s so early.”
“Then we’ll drive to Bozeman.” I crossed the room and pulled her into my arms. “Before the day is over, we’ll know.”
Rather than make her pull on the clothes she’d been wearing, I found a pair of sweats. The waistband was rolled to cinch them around her waist, the legs folded up so she wouldn’t walk on the hems. And then I pulled a T-shirt and my favorite Harley-Davidson black hoodie over her head.
“You’re beautiful.” Dressed in my clothes, her hair damp and limp, her eyes red and tired, she’d never looked better.
“I’m a wreck.”
I kissed her forehead. “Gorgeous. Ready?”
“No,” she confessed. “I don’t want bad news.”
“Me neither.” With our hands linked, I led her into the garage and to my truck.
She took one look at it and her shoulders relaxed. “Thank God. I need a break from your bike.”
I chuckled and loaded her into the passenger seat. She rolled her eyes as I buckled her seat belt but let me help her all the same. With the heat cranked up, I drove through town to the hospital. We marched right to the emergency room, and two hours later, Bryce and I were back in the truck.
I took her hand, pulling it across the console to kiss her knuckles. Then I stretched to cup her cheek, using my thumb to dry a tear falling from her beautiful eyes. “You good?”