Chapter 24 #2
She stirs after a while, blinking up at me. A sleepy smile tugs at her lips. “You’re staring.”
“Damn right I am,” I murmur, brushing her hair back from her face. “Couldn’t stop if I tried.”
She laughs softly, but it catches in her throat. Her hand presses to her belly, fingers flexing. A faint crease forms between her brows.
“You, okay?” I ask, sitting up straighter.
“Mm.” She nods, but the sound isn’t convincing. “Just a little crampy. Probably nothing. Happens sometimes this far along.”
Still, my gut tightens. I want to believe her, but after everything that’s happened in my life, my instincts don’t let anything slide.
“Nothing?” I press, watching the way her face shifts when the feeling lingers longer than it probably should.
She blows out a breath, leaning back into the pillows. “It’s probably just from yesterday, from all the emotions … and from you.” Her cheeks flush, and she tries to laugh it off, but another wave of discomfort flickers across her face.
I catch her hand and lace my fingers through hers, kissing her knuckles. “Let’s just keep an eye on it, yeah? No brushing it off.”
Her eyes soften, but the crease between her brows doesn’t disappear. She nods, and I keep my hand on her belly, as if sheer willpower alone can keep our baby exactly where they belong for just a little longer.
So we stay like this for a while, tangled in the sheets, sunlight slipping through the blinds in thin, golden lines.
I want to memorize her all over again, every detail.
It’s been too long since I’ve woken up in a real bed beside her.
The weight of her against me, the warmth of her skin, even the way her hair kept tickling my jaw. It’s all the same, yet strikingly new.
Eventually, Harley stretches, a small wince slipping out. She gives me a sheepish smile. “I think your kid is already taking up all the room in here. My ribs are officially out of space.”
I grin and rub my palm gently over her side. “Our kid. And hey, you’ve still got a few weeks left. They’re probably just practicing their soccer skills.”
Her laugh fills the room, soft and shaky. I missed that sound.
We move slow that morning. I insist on making breakfast, even though she tries to shuffle me out of the kitchen three times.
I barely remember how to use half the appliances, months of cold trays and lukewarm coffee will do that to a man, but eventually I manage to make scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice.
Nothing fancy, but with the way she watches me from the counter stool—chin propped in her hand and eyes shining—you’d think I was cooking a five-star meal.
“You’re staring again,” I tease, sliding the plate in front of her.
She smirks. “You’re just … here. Making me food. You don’t know how good that feels.”
I sit across from her and reach across the counter to lace our fingers together again. “Trust me, I do.”
She picks at her eggs and eats some toast, but I notice how often her hand drifts back to her belly. Not in the absent way she usually does. This is more deliberate, like she’s tracking something.
“You sure you’re, okay?” I ask again, voice low.
She gives me that look, part stubborn, part trying to convince herself, too. “I’m fine. Just a little sore. Probably from all the stress.”
I nod, but inside, I still don’t believe it.
I keep watching her, the way her hand is circling her belly and how her smile tightens at the edges even when she tries to keep it soft. She takes another sip of orange juice, sets the glass down, and then freezes.
Her fork clatters against the plate.
“Harley?” I’m out of my chair in a heartbeat.
She sucks in a sharp breath, both hands gripping the counter edge. “Easton …” Her voice breaks, and when her eyes lift to mine, they are wide, glassy with fear.
Then I see it, the sudden dark stain spreading down the front of her leggings and dripping onto the tile.
My stomach drops. “Shit. Harley, your water?—”
“I know.” Her breath hitches. “It’s too early.”
For half a second, the room spins. Thirty-four weeks. She is early, and if it’s my fault I will never forgive myself.
“Look at me, Little Bird,” I say, forcing my voice to be steady even though my heart beats like a jackhammer. “You and the baby are gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”
Another gush of fluid hits the floor, and her face crumples, her free hand digging into my arm. “Easton, I’m scared.”
“I know.” I press my forehead to hers, swallowing hard. “But I swear to you, I’m not letting anything happen to you or our baby. We’re going to the hospital right now.”
She nods, body shaking as tears slip free. I kiss them away quickly, then guide her toward the door.
She fumbles with her phone in the passenger seat, knuckles white around it.
Her breath breaks into sharp little gasps between groans.
When Kennedy finally answers, Harley manages to get the words out, her voice trembling but steady enough that Kennedy understands. She snaps into action on the other end.
By the time Harley hangs up, Kennedy’s already promised to grab the hospital bag, call our parents, and meet us at the hospital.
Again, I’m grateful for her. Kennedy has this way of turning chaos into a checklist, and right now I need that. My head is anything but clear.
All I can focus on is the sound of Harley’s breathing and the miles of road left between us and the hospital. Every time she winces, clutching her belly, it’s like a knife is twisting deeper in my chest.
I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles ache. My mind keeps circling back to the same jagged thoughts. If she loses this baby because of stress I caused, I’ll never forgive myself. If last night was too much, if being with me pushed her body too far ? —
I can’t finish the thought.
And worse, if something happens to her … if I lose Harley …
I blink hard, the road blurring for a second before snapping back into focus. No. I can’t let myself go there. Not now. Not ever.
I reach across the console, my hand covering hers, and anchor myself in the heat of her skin. “I’ve got you,” I say, even though the truth rattles in my bones. I keep making promises I have no power over.
But in that car, with her breathing breaking and my heart trying to claw its way out of my chest, it’s the only thing I can give her.