Chapter 23
Kia
The drive to the doctor’s office is made in silence. It’s not awkward or strained. Instead, it’s as if neither of us are willing to disturb the fragile balance that’s settled between us.
Laiken’s hands are steady on the steering wheel, his posture relaxed, like this is any other errand on his day off. As if we’re not headed toward something that’s been weighing me down for weeks.
His calm is enough to make my throat constrict.
The way he treats this like something manageable that we can face together, instead of the catastrophe I’ve been telling myself it is, calms me in ways I didn’t expect. For the first time since I found out I was pregnant, I wonder if maybe he’s right.
My knee bounces despite my best efforts to stop it.
I can’t remember the last time my body didn’t feel like it was betraying me with sickness or nerves.
Without saying a word, he glances over before reaching out and resting his hand on my thigh.
The contact is strangely comforting. Given that we haven’t known one another for long, it should be weird.
What does it mean that it’s not?
Maybe it’s because he doesn’t demand anything in return. He hasn’t asked questions, pushed for more information, or judged me.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, gaze fixed on the road. “Everything will be fine.”
With a nod, I inhale. The SUV smells like him. Masculine with smoky undertones that have become familiar over the past week. In a sea of uncertainty, it steadies me more than anything else.
I didn’t realize how starved I was for something familiar until this very moment.
By the time we pull into the medical building parking lot, my pulse has slowed. Not because I’m any less scared, but because he’s beside me, reassuring me every step of the way.
It doesn’t take long to find the doctor’s office. Inside, the waiting room buzzes with low conversation and the rustle of paperwork. Laiken takes the clipboard from the counter without comment and then settles beside me, flipping through the forms.
“I’ll help,” he says simply.
Not should I? or do you want me to?
Just… I’ve got you.
It’s exactly what I need, and enough to bring tears to my eyes.
He fills in his name under the emergency contact section before glancing at me. “Is that okay?”
Emotion crashes over me as I nod. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
Emergency contacts feel much too real. Permanent in a way I’m unprepared for.
My hand trembles as he passes me the clipboard, and I begin filling out the paperwork.
Without a word, his fingers slide over mine, anchoring them.
Anchoring me. The touch isn’t possessive or controlling.
It’s just there.
A solid presence.
Almost like he’s lending me his strength because mine has run out.
It takes fifteen minutes before they finally call my name. I rise automatically and take a step when I realize he’s still seated. Panic flares to life. The idea of walking back there alone and sitting in that room by myself has a pit forming at the bottom of my belly.
“Can you—” My tongue darts out to moisten my lips as I force myself to meet his gaze. “Would you mind coming in with me?”
Once the words are out, there’s no taking them back. I’m painfully aware of how much the answer matters.
He’s on his feet in an instant. “Yeah, of course.”
The exam room is small, with pale-yellow walls. The nurse is kind and efficient. She takes my vitals, all the while asking routine questions. Laiken sits on one of the chairs, not crowding or hovering. He’s just close enough for me to feel his presence.
I don’t miss how the nurse’s gaze flicks between us. Like she’s already categorized us as a couple.
After she leaves, he turns to me. “If there’s any point you want me to step out, say the word.”
It’s not a conscious decision to slide my hand into his. I just do it. The contact sends a thrill shooting through me before curling low in my belly in a way that is startlingly intimate.
This is nothing like the safety my brothers provided that was protective and familiar. Taken for granted because we’re family. This is different. It feels more like being cocooned in comfort. Like if I let myself sink into it, I might just forget how to pull away when it becomes necessary.
The doctor comes in moments later. She’s an older woman with dark hair shot through with silver, and kind eyes that crinkle at the corners when she smiles.
“Good morning,” she says before introducing herself and running through what the exam will entail.
I lie back on the table and tug my shirt up before unsnapping the button of my jeans and lowering the zipper a few inches.
She glances at Laiken. “Dad? Do you want to move closer so you can see the screen?”
I freeze as the word echoes through me, loud and jarring, and yet, unexpectedly right.
I wait for Laiken to correct her.
It only takes a moment to realize he isn’t going to.
For half a second, I consider blurting out the truth. Before I can, Laiken steps closer, and when our gazes lock, an unspoken understanding passes between us.
How is it that pretending feels dangerous, but also comforting in a way that makes it far too easy?
The doctor squeezes a line of gel onto my abdomen, explaining that she’ll be using a Doppler ultrasound to find the baby’s heartbeat. Her tone is calm as she spreads the clear lubricant and moves the probe slowly across my belly.
The silence stretches in the room until it’s enough to jangle my nerves.
Every second feels amplified. Every breath too loud.
For the first time since taking that at-home test, real fear creeps in.
It’s not the blinding panic of discovering I was pregnant, but something colder and far more sobering.
Lying here now, waiting for proof that something is growing inside me, I realize I’d already assumed this baby was real when that might not be the case.
What if something’s wrong?
The thought is enough to have tears pricking my eyes.
My gaze locks on Laiken, instinctively seeking comfort from his steady presence.
His lips lift slightly at the corners. It’s not quite a smile but something that’s reassuring nonetheless.
And it’s enough to settle all the nerves racing through me.
When the doctor turns the screen and adjusts the volume, a thump-thump-thump echoes around the room.
A heartbeat.
My breath catches as the sound fills every corner of me before vibrating straight through my chest. This tiny, undeniable rhythm exists because of me.
I didn’t know what to expect at this appointment, but it wasn’t this sudden, overwhelming rush of wonder. Of fear and love tangling together so tightly I’m not able to tell them apart.
I glance at Laiken again and find his jaw locked and eyes shining with amazement. He looks shaken. As if something fundamental has shifted for him as well. He leans down, brushing his lips against my forehead. The touch is soft and full of emotion.
That’s when I realize this isn’t just my moment anymore. It belongs to both of us. That knowledge hits almost as hard as the heartbeat did.
The doctor sets the probe aside and explains what the next few appointments will look like as Laiken reaches for a towel and wipes the gel from my abdomen.
His touch is achingly gentle, and it’s almost a surprise when heat blooms low in my belly before curling through me.
My breath catches, air thickening in my lungs as his gaze locks on mine, holding it captive.
The awareness between us is unmistakable.
It isn’t sexual. Not exactly. It’s deeper than that. Quieter. More intimate.
It feels more like recognition.
Like he’s standing in the middle of the same emotional storm, feeling every jagged edge and overwhelming swell right alongside me.
As if, somehow, the weight of it all has shifted just enough to be shared.
For a suspended moment, neither of us moves.
The world seems to fall away before he takes a step in retreat and the distance snaps back into place.
The doctor excuses herself as I tug my sweater down and button my jeans with shaking hands. Although, this time it’s not from nerves but the aftershock of something I’m not ready to name.
The air feels different now.
Charged.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks, voice roughened just enough that I feel it everywhere.
I nod. “Thank you again for coming with.”
The words feel woefully inadequate.
“I’ll be at all of them, if that’s what you want.”
The promise comes out of nowhere but means more than he can possibly understand. For the first time since my world fell apart, I don’t feel so alone in all this.
And that has everything to do with the man standing beside me.