Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Saw the heartbeat, and now I’m fucked
Carina
Ibooked the scan across the other side of town, away from the hospital and away from Moreno. I didn’t want to deal with someone I knew recognizing me and whispering my name like gossip.
So I went for a neutral setting and a ten-minute slot in a sterile ultrasound room with a sonographer who doesn’t know who I am.
Reid picks me up, but waits in the parking lot. I told him it’d look too suspicious if he came into my office and anyone saw, so he’s in his truck with his hood up and cap low.
When I step outside into the lot, he leans over to pop the passenger door open, then sits back and watches me walk toward him.
“Hey,” he says quietly as I climb in. His voice is warm, a little gravelly. “You good?”
I nod, tugging the door shut. “Yeah.”
He shifts into drive, one hand on the wheel, the other resting up on the console between us—close enough to touch, but not assuming. He’s giving me space, but I can feel the pulse of him beside me, like an anchor in reach if I want it.
We sit side by side in the waiting room, a beat-up magazine rack and a fish tank burbling in the corner. He slouches low in his chair, eyes flicking to the door every time someone walks past.
One knee bounces in a jittery rhythm, heel tapping against the tile. He’s trying to play it cool, but I can feel it in him—the nervous energy. The weight of everything he’s not saying.
I don’t overthink it, just gently slide my palm onto his knee with a quiet press of reassurance.
His leg stills instantly, and he exhales like he’s only just realized he was doing it. And then, without looking at me, he glides his own hand up onto his knee, too, just until his pinky brushes against mine.
The room they take us into is cool-toned and smells of antiseptic.
A heating vent clicks every few minutes.
The monitor is angled toward the bed, cables coiled on the counter.
I lie back and slowly roll my shirt up and my waistband down.
The paper crinkles beneath me. My heart’s steady, but the muscles behind my knees won’t unclench.
“Hey.” Reid sits down beside me, quiet but close as he rests a hand next to mine on the bed. “You okay?”
I nod, but his pinky grazes against mine, then hooks. It’s barely a touch, but it’s something to hold onto, and I flex mine back around his.
The sonographer enters, smiling politely. “You’re here for a dating scan?”
I nod again, and she glances at the chart.
“Looks like around eight weeks?”
“That’s right.”
She turns toward the machine and begins her setup, warning me that the gel might feel cold on my skin. It does. The wand feels colder.
Reid stays silent and watchful. I keep my eyes on the ceiling until I hear the subtle shift in breath, then I glance at the monitor.
A flash of motion on the screen. A pulse of light in the middle of a bean shape so small, I wouldn’t recognize it if I didn’t already know.
“There,” she says gently. “That flutter is the heartbeat. Looks nice and strong.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t. My throat is too tight. Beside me, Reid shifts, and I feel his breath catch more than I hear it. I glance over, and he’s staring at the screen like it’s rewiring something in his chest.
His throat bobs, eyes snapping to mine. “That’s the baby’s heartbeat?”
I nod once.
“Yes,” the sonographer replies, glancing over her shoulder. She smiles kindly, then turns back to the machine. “Let’s see if we can hear it.”
There’s a quiet click, and the room fills with a swishy, galloping sound.
Thud-thud-thud.
Fast but rhythmic, impossibly small and huge all at once.
Reid goes still.
Completely, entirely still, as though the sound has hit something directly in his chest. He stares at the screen until his lashes lower, like he’s trying to blink back something he doesn’t want to show.
“Fuck.”
His pinky slides more firmly around mine, and then his other fingers follow, quietly weaving into mine. I look down to see his hand fully holding mine, squeezing gently.
When I squeeze back, his eyes dart over to me, and his smile is devastating. Soft and reverent, with a sheen in his eyes. He slowly raises our clasped hands to his lips and presses a kiss to my knuckles.
I smile back, then look away before I completely lose it on the spot.
The tech finishes the scan and prints a copy, tells us what to expect, and books us in for the next appointment at twelve weeks. I don’t hear most of it, too busy trying to breathe normally again.
By the time we leave the clinic, my shirt is smoothed down, my bag is slung back over my shoulder, and we walk out like two composed adults. No one would know we’ve just watched our child’s heartbeat flicker across a screen.
That, in a small, inconspicuous ultrasound room tucked away from the world, everything about our lives just tilted sideways.
Reid hovers with the keys in one hand while the other braces lightly at my back as we walk. He doesn’t rush me, but he walks me to the car like he always does—there to catch me if I go anywhere but forward.
The door closes, and I press my palms to my thighs to keep them from shaking. We don’t speak much as he drives, or as I lean forward to dig through my handbag to find the scan.
I hold the ultrasound photo in my lap, fingers smoothing over the edges again and again like I’m trying to make sense of it.
The heartbeat, the sound. The weight of it all. It presses against my ribs in a way I can’t explain.
I let out a shaky breath, and feel him look over at me.
“You okay?”
I nod.
“You sure?”
“I’m fine,” I say, then shake my head. “I’m not. I don’t know.”
“That’s allowed.”
I stare out the window for a beat.“It’s real. I saw it.”
“I know.”
“There was a heartbeat.”
“I heard it.” Reid adjusts his grip on the wheel and glances over. “You wanna go home?”
I shake my head too quickly. “Not yet.”
He nods once, then flicks on the indicator and turns without a word, guiding us down a quiet, tree-lined street I’ve never been on before. At the end of it, there’s a small park—empty this time of day—and he pulls in beside a line of trees.
The engine clicks quietly, and the cabin is still. I exhale and lean back against the headrest.
“That was…”
“A lot,” he finishes.
I nod, looking out the window at the Spring flowers popping up in neat little rows. The trees are blooming with blossoms, and ivy climbs a pergola.
“I know enough about failed pregnancies to know better than to let myself get attached too soon.”
He’s watching me carefully. “But?”
“But I saw the heartbeat,” I whisper, turning to look at him, “and now I’m fucked.”
That earns a ghost of a smile from him. He reaches across and takes my hand, thumb brushing over my knuckles.
“You’re not fucked,” he says. “And you’re not alone in this.”
I glance away, blinking hard. “I think I’m already too invested, because I know it’s early. I know everything that can still go wrong. I’ve seen it. I know. And I can’t—” I suck in a breath that shakes. “I don’t know how to be okay with it.”
“You don’t have to be okay with it,” he says quietly. “You just have to let yourself feel it.”
“God, I’m sorry. It’s the hormones—I’m being ridiculous.”
“You’re not.”
“I thought I’d feel better after the scan,” I mutter. “I thought seeing it would help.”
“You don’t?”
“I do, I just…” My throat closes up. “Now it feels real.”
His hand tightens gently over mine. “You’re trying to treat yourself like one of your patients.”
I open my mouth to respond, but stop.
“You’re running through all these scenarios in your head, prepping for the worst case… Like it’ll hurt less if you’re ready.”
“I—” My jaw clicks shut. He’s not wrong, and that’s the part that scares me the most.
“But you’re not one of your patients, Carina,” he says gently. “This is you. Your body and your baby. And you’re allowed to feel it… to want it.”
I look at him, and my lip trembles. “I want this to work so much it terrifies me.”
Reid doesn’t respond right away. He leans over and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear and lets his fingers trail down the curve of my jaw. Then he takes my chin between his finger and thumb, and turns my head gently to meet his eyes.
“I’ve got you.”
My eyes sting. Fuck, I don’t want to cry in front of him, not again.
I blink fast, pressing the heel of my free hand to my eyes, willing the tears not to fall.
His fingers trail back along my cheek and into my hairline, gently tugging me toward him until his lips press to my forehead.
He dots the softest kiss there, then moves slowly to one eyelid, then the other.
My cheeks. The bridge of my nose. Each one is gentle and grounding, until he reaches my mouth.
The air shifts and my breath catches.
All at once, my body rewires under the weight of his touch. Fear and panic give way to something hot and sharp.
In a flurry, I unclip my seatbelt and climb across the console and into his lap. It’s graceless and too fast, but he catches me without hesitation, both hands landing firmly on my hips.
“Jesus, Havoc.”
“Shut up,” I murmur, dragging my hands through his hair and kissing him hard.
His whimper is low and hungry in my mouth, hands flexing and fingers digging in.
“What do you need, baby?”
I shift forward, grinding down hard against his thigh.
“I need you,” I breathe. “Right now. Please.”
His thigh is solid under me, jeans rough against the thin fabric of my leggings. I rock hard against him, and his breath stutters out on a groan that makes my stomach flip.
“You want it like this?” he mutters, voice gravelly. “In the front seat of my car?”
I nod, fingers tightening in his hair. “I don’t care. Just—don’t stop.”
His grip tightens, dragging me down in a punishing rhythm that makes my thighs shake.
“Christ,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”
I roll my hips again, slower this time, letting him feel every inch of it. “Maybe I just want you thinking about all the ways you’re going to fuck me later.”
“Yeah?” His groan punches into my chest. “You want me to fuck you later?”
“Yes.”
“Bend you over the bed?”
“Yes.”
“Make you scream into the mattress?”
I moan.
“Because I’m already thinking about how hard you’re gonna want it. About how wet you’re gonna be when I spread your legs wide and make a mess of you.”
My breath stutters, and I lean in, lips brushing his ear. “I’d rather be on my knees first.”
His hands still, then tighten.
“Fuck, Carina.” His voice is frayed. “You’re killin’ me.”
“That’s kind of the point,” I whisper, grinding down harder. “I want you in my mouth. I want to feel you there, watch you try not to come while I—”
I’m cut off by a whimper when his hand slides up beneath my top, finding bare skin and cupping my breast. His thumbs brush over my nipple, and I swear, I could come just from that.
He shifts beneath me, thigh flexing up hard, grinding right back into me this time so I can feel the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans.
“You don’t get to talk like that and not finish,” he continues, his other hand coming down to thumb my clit firmly through my clothes. “Not when you’re this worked up.”
I gasp, clutching his shoulders, hips moving on instinct. The car rocks just slightly, and that tiny bit of danger only pushes me closer to the edge.
“Reid—”
“You close?”
I nod, too far gone to speak. A hand fists into my hair, pulling my head back just enough to watch me.
“Look at me when you come.”
My back arches, and my mouth opens on a cry I can’t swallow, feeling my whole body lock around his thigh grinding into me, his hands clutching my hair, and the way his eyes and voice pin me in place.
His pupils are blown wide and completely wrecked as he watches me, like I’m something holy and obscene all at once. My head falls back, hips grinding harder.
“Eyes on me,” he growls. “That’s it. Fuck, baby—”
I start to unravel with a loud moan, eyes locked on his. He groans, hips bucking once beneath me as I shatter, coming hard against his thigh, biting back a cry that tears loose anyway.
“Fuck—”
His hand fists in my hair as he jerks once beneath me and groans through gritted teeth. He presses his mouth to my temple, grounding himself there while he rides it out.
My forehead drops to his shoulder, and his hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me close.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
I nod against his shoulder, still shaking. “You?”
A breathy huff of a laugh.
“I just came in my pants in a public park.”
My grin is dazed and satisfied. “Must be the hormones.”
He hums his agreement, then tips my chin up and presses a soft, lingering kiss to my mouth.
“Later,” he says quietly, forehead resting against mine, “I’m taking my time with you.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
His chuckle rumbles through me. “Good. But next time, it won’t be in my fucking car.”