Chapter 39
39
JARED
I woke up and the first thing I thought about was Amelia.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Not because of what had happened between us in the lab—though that was certainly burned into my memory—but because of how pale she’d looked when she left.
As a doctor, it didn’t sit well with me.
As the father of her child, it really didn’t sit well with me.
I had followed her home last night, just to make sure she got there safely, but I hadn’t gone inside.
I’d stood outside her condo for what felt like an eternity, debating whether to knock, before finally forcing myself to leave.
I didn’t want her to think I was knocking on her door because I wanted sex again.
She said it was a mistake.
I didn’t see it that way, but I respected her opinion.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try and convince her otherwise.
But she looked so tired, I didn’t think she was up for a serious conversation.
And I honestly wasn’t sure what I would say.
I wanted her, but I couldn’t commit.
She wanted a commitment.
I was ready to offer her something I considered as commitment adjacent.
That conversation could wait until she was refreshed and ready to talk.
After a quick workout, coffee, and a breakfast burrito, I was out the door.
My intention was to find Amelia.
I needed to see her, to make sure she was okay.
My plan was to invite her to dinner for the real conversation we needed to have.
I went by her lab and was told she wasn’t in yet.
I didn’t think much of it.
None of us kept banker’s hours.
Especially considering she’d been working late last night.
I went to my office and sat down.
I was reviewing the update on the patient from yesterday.
All was well. He woke up and was following commands.
That was always a good sign.
Now, it was up to the hospital to make sure the rest of his body healed.
Clair knocked on my door before walking in.
“Jared, have you seen Amelia?” she asked.
Of course, I immediately felt like a kid getting busted with his hand in the cookie jar.
“What?”
“Have you seen Amelia this morning ?”
“No. I went by her lab, and they said she wasn’t in yet.”
“I know,” she said with exasperation.
“We were supposed to have a meeting this morning, but she didn’t show. She’s not in her lab, and she’s not answering her phone. I went by her condo, but she didn’t answer the door.” She stepped inside.
“Did she stay at your place last night?” she whispered.
I appreciated her thoughtfulness about our privacy, but it only made me more concerned.
“No,” I said and got to my feet.
“She was working last night. We, uh, talked. She looked a little pale. She said she was tired.”
I was already walking out the door.
There was a feeling of urgency I couldn’t explain, but I knew I had to get to her.
I couldn’t stop the sinking feeling that something was very, very wrong.
“Where are you going?” Clair asked.
I was taking long strides.
It wasn’t a run, but it wasn’t a walk either.
I threw open the doors and hit the sidewalk.
That’s when I started running.
I could hear Clair behind me.
I reached Amelia’s door and tried the handle.
Locked.
“Amelia!” I called out.
I waited about half a second before I slammed my shoulder into it, once, twice, until it gave way.
Claire was right behind me.
I raced through the condo, my eyes scanning every room until I found her.
She was in bed, lying still, her skin cool to the touch.
My breath caught in my throat as I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Amelia,” I said. “Amelia, I need you to wake up.”
There was nothing.
I quickly checked her pulse.
It was there but weak.
My mind was racing through a thousand worst-case scenarios.
“What’s wrong?” Clair whispered.
“What happened?”
“I’m taking her to the hospital,” I said.
I jerked the blankets back and lifted her into my arms.
Clair gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Jared, there’s blood,” she said, her voice trembling.
I looked down and saw it—a small, dark stain on the sheets.
Panic hit me in a way I had never experienced before.
I was always calm and cool under pressure.
This was different. This was mine.
I forced myself to take a deep breath and pull back the panic.
“Call Shawn,” I said in my usual surgeon voice.
“Get a helicopter here. Now.”
Clair didn’t argue.
She pulled out her phone and started dialing as I put Amelia back on the bed.
I checked her pulse, her breathing, my hands moving on autopilot.
She was alive but barely.
My mind was a whirlwind of fear and guilt, but I pushed it all aside.
I had to focus. I had to save her.
“He’s on his way with the cart,” she said.
“Get me a clean blanket,” I ordered.
“Grab her purse.”
Clair quickly did as I asked.
Once again, I picked Amelia up and carried her outside.
Shawn pulled up in the golf cart outfitted to carry patients.
We quickly loaded her inside with me cradling her in my arms while Shawn drove us to the helipad.
Our chopper was there, blades slicing through the air.
Our flight nurse hunched over and ran to meet us.
I climbed into the helicopter, Amelia still cradled in my arms.
“Let’s get her on the stretcher,” the nurse said.
I knew it was the right thing to do, but I struggled to let her go.
We got her on and the nurse worked quickly to secure the belts.
My fingers moved to her cold wrist, checking her pulse again—too weak, too slow.
The nurse hooked her up to an IV and monitoring equipment with an efficiency that came from years of experience.
“Go,” I said to the pilot as soon as the nurse had the IV going.
The chopper lifted off.
I glanced out the window and saw Shawn holding Clair.
If it wasn’t for Clair…
I couldn’t finish the thought.
This was my fault. I should’ve checked on her last night.
I should’ve done more than stand outside her door like some lovesick stalker.
I kept my eyes on Amelia, watching the subtle rise and fall of her chest as the nurse worked.
Her skin was pale, almost translucent under the harsh fluorescent light of the chopper.
The blood on the sheets flashed in my mind again.
I forced myself to focus on the monitors—her heart rate stable but low, oxygen levels just barely acceptable.
“Dr. Welch, her pressure’s dropping.”
I leaned forward, my training kicking in.
“Increase the IV fluids,” I ordered.
“And get me a blood pressure cuff. She’s approximately sixteen weeks pregnant.”
The nurse looked at me, realization dawning.
“We’ve got her. We’ll be at the hospital in forty minutes. She’s in good hands.”
I held her hand the entire flight, my eyes never leaving her face.
I hated that there was nothing I could do.
When we landed at the hospital, a team of doctors was waiting for us.
They whisked Amelia away.
I was left standing in the hallway, feeling utterly useless.
I tried to follow but was stopped by a nurse that looked like she could bench press me.
This was what it felt like to be on the other side of this equation.
I was the guy saving a patient’s life.
I was never the terrified guy in the waiting room.
The hospital walls felt like they were closing in around me.
The sterile scent of antiseptic, the low hum of voices, the steady beep of machines—it all blurred together in the background, white noise that I was so used to I never really heard it.
I wasn’t supposed to be here.
Not like this. Not pacing the floor outside a goddamn emergency room while Amelia lay on the other side of those doors, bleeding.
I ran a hand through my hair, gripping the back of my neck, trying to breathe, trying to stay in control.
Control. That was what I’d built my life around—control over my emotions, over my actions, over everything.
I had been forced to do something I wasn’t used to—I had to step back.
I had to let someone else take the reins.
And I fucking hated it.
Adrenaline was still pumping through my veins, making me feel like I’d slammed twenty cups of coffee.
My body was too tightly wound, my nerves stretched too thin.
I was a surgeon, for fuck’s sake.
I had cut into people’s skulls, had saved lives more times than I could count.
But this? Watching Amelia suffer and knowing there was nothing I could do?
It was unbearable.
“Jared!”
I looked up and saw Shawn and Clair walk into the waiting room.
Had it been that long?
Shawn texted and told me they were coming over in the private jet.
“What do you know?” Clair asked.
“Not a fucking thing,” I growled.
“I swear to God, if someone doesn’t tell me something soon, shit’s gonna get ugly. She’s been in there too long.”
Shawn exhaled, rubbing his jaw.
“They’re doing everything they can, man. You know that.”
I shook my head.
“I should be in there.”
“Unfortunately, your specialty is the other end, Jared.” Shawn clasped my shoulder.
“Let the experts do their jobs.”
Two hours later, I was pacing the hallway with Clair and Shawn sitting in the chairs with looks of concern.
The attending finally emerged.
“Jared,” he said and extended his hand.
Dr. Speldman was a man I knew well.
We’d worked together on a few cases in the past, but today, he wasn’t my colleague.
He was the man standing between me and Amelia.
I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.
“I need to see her,” I said, my voice tight with barely restrained anger.
“Now.”
Dr. Speldman raised an eyebrow, his expression calm but firm.
“Jared, this is outside your scope of practice. Amelia and the baby are going to be fine, but she needs to rest and continue being monitored.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“She had a very severe subchorionic hematoma. She’s lucky she didn’t have a placental abruption.”
I clenched my fists, my mind racing.
“What does that mean? Is she stable? Is the baby?—”
“She’s stable,” he interrupted, his tone softening.
“But given that she’s only four to five months along, she needs to stay in a resting state. Bedrest, at least for a few weeks. No stress, no exertion. She’s lucky you got her here when you did.”
I nodded, but his words barely registered.
All I could think about was Amelia, alone in that hospital room, scared and confused.
“I need to see her,” I said again, my voice breaking this time.
He studied me for a moment, then sighed.
“Jared, does she have family we can call? Or better yet, the baby’s father?”
The question hit me like a ton of bricks.
For the first time, I saw the situation not as a doctor, but as a man—a man who was terrified of losing the woman he cared about and the child they’d created together.
I braced myself against the wall, my legs suddenly weak.
Shawn jumped up and stood beside me.
“She’s going to be okay,” Shawn said.
Dr. Speldman’s expression softened.
“I see,” he said. He placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Jared. I didn’t realize. Come on, I’ll take you to her.”
“We’ll be right here,” Clair said with tears in her eyes.
I followed him down the hallway.
I’d spent my entire life being the one in control, the one who had all the answers.
But now, for the first time, I had to let someone else take the reins.
I had to trust that the doctor and his team would take care of her, because I couldn’t.
Not this time.
When we reached her room, he paused outside the door.
“She’s still sleeping. She’s weak. It’s going to take a couple of days for her to recover. We are watching her closely, but I want her to rest.”
“Will she need a transfusion?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t see any need for that. Like I said, she got here in time. We’re monitoring her. Right now, it’s just rest and hydration. No stress. I don’t want her out of that bed for anything.”
I nodded, trying to tell myself she was okay, but I wasn’t going to believe it until I saw her.
“Thank you,” I said.
“I’ll check back this evening,” he said.
“I know this might sound impossible, but you need to sit tight. Let us handle things. Your only job is to be there for her.”
“I’ll do my best,” I muttered.