Chapter 39 Two Lines
By the time Nathan pulled up to St. Andrew’s emergency entrance, Knox was already reaching for the door.
The car hadn’t fully stopped before he stepped out and came around to my side.
Lena slipped out behind us, staying close, while Nathan drove off to park, Titan’s muffled whine fading as the doors shut.
Knox’s arm came around me the moment my feet hit the pavement, guiding me inside with his body angled protectively toward mine. The automatic doors slid open and cool air rushed over my skin. A nurse at the desk looked up, startled.
“She needs to be seen immediately,” Knox said, already moving us forward.
The nurse blinked, then straightened. “Of course. What happened?”
“She fainted,” he replied before I could speak, his hand tightening slightly at my back as if to keep me from arguing. “She had a concussion a few weeks ago.” A beat, then more calmly, “She’s also possibly pregnant.”
My head snapped toward him.
What?
He didn’t look at me. His focus stayed on the nurse.
Something in his tone must have done it, because she didn’t question him. “Alright. Come with me.”
She led us down a quieter hallway, away from the noise and crowd, into a private exam room.
Knox stayed close the entire time, his hand never leaving me.
Lena followed a few steps behind, her gaze constantly moving, checking every corner, every doorway.
When we reached the room, she stopped outside, taking position by the door.
“Sit here,” the nurse said, gesturing to the exam table.
Knox helped me up, his hands steady at my waist until he was sure I wouldn’t sway.
“I’ll get the doctor,” the nurse added, already turning away.
The door clicked shut, and the room fell into a strange, suspended silence.
I turned to him. “Pregnant?”
Only then did he look at me.
His expression was serious. “You haven’t had your period.”
My mouth opened, then closed.
“You cried yesterday,” he went on. “At a commercial. A car commercial.”
“That was…” I trailed off, not even sure how to defend myself.
“And you’ve been tired,” he added. “Yawning constantly.”
“You keep me up,” I muttered.
“And the cravings.”
I blinked.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
The last week replayed in fragments. The exhaustion. The mood swings. The cravings I couldn’t explain. The missed period I had dismissed as stress.
My hand moved on its own, settling against my stomach, fingers pressing lightly as if I could feel something there already.
A knock broke the moment.
The door opened and a woman stepped inside, a middle-aged woman with a clipboard tucked under her arm. “I’m Dr. Wilde.”
She listened as Knox repeated everything, then nodded and handed me a small plastic cup. “We’ll start with a urine test.”
Knox steadied me as I slid off the table and walked to the bathroom. When I came back, Dr. Wilde took the sample and dipped a test strip into it, setting it on a tray between us.
We all watched.
It changed quickly.
Two lines.
I stared at it, my mind refusing to catch up. Then I looked at Knox. He had gone completely still.
Dr. Wilde glanced at it, then back at me. “This is a positive test. We’ll confirm with an ultrasound.”
She also asked for the date of my last period. I answered automatically, my voice distant. She nodded, doing the math. “That would place you around seven weeks.”
Seven.
My hand drifted back to my stomach.
“We can confirm and check viability with an ultrasound,” she said.
“Yes,” Knox answered immediately.
I nodded.
“Because it’s early, we’ll need to do a transvaginal ultrasound. It provides a clearer image at this stage.”
The doctor handed me a gown and stepped out to give me privacy.
A few minutes later, I was lying back on the exam table, the paper crinkling beneath me, a sheet draped over my lower half.
Knox stood beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him.
His hand found mine, fingers threading through mine.
I stared at the ceiling as the doctor worked, trying to keep my breathing steady.
Then she paused.
“There.”
She turned the monitor slightly toward us.
A small shape appeared on the screen. Tiny. Fragile.
“That’s the gestational sac,” she said, adjusting the angle. “And here…”
A sound filled the room.
Fast. Steady.
Alive.
My breath caught. Knox’s grip tightened just slightly, enough for me to feel it.
“That’s the heartbeat.”
I couldn’t look away. Neither could he.
Dr. Wilde glanced between us, her expression softening. “Everything looks good. Congratulations. You’re pregnant.”
My eyes burned as the words settled, slow and heavy. Fear, wonder, disbelief tangled together in a way I couldn’t separate.
Knox didn’t speak. He just stood there, staring at the screen, his thumb moving slowly over the back of my hand.
The doctor finished after a few minutes, giving me time to recover and dress.
When she returned, she drew blood for routine tests, explaining everything as she worked.
Hormone levels. Iron. Vitamins. Prenatal care.
What to expect in the coming weeks. Her voice was calm, steady, grounding in a way I didn’t quite feel.
She handed me a pamphlet. “We’ll schedule a follow-up with an obstetrician.”
I nodded automatically, trying to listen, trying to take it in.
But my mind kept drifting back.
To the sound.
That tiny, steady heartbeat.
I would do everything in my power to protect it. To keep it safe. To hold on to something that already felt fragile and impossibly important.
By the time we stepped out of the hospital, the sky had already darkened. Knox stayed close, his hand at the small of my back as we walked. Lena followed a few steps behind us.
Nathan pulled up a moment later, the SUV rolling to a smooth stop. Titan’s massive head appeared over the backseat the second he saw us, ears perked, eyes locked on us.
Knox opened the door for me.
“Careful,” he murmured, guiding me inside like I was something fragile. I sank into the seat, exhaustion washing over me in slow, heavy waves as Knox’s hand found mine again. “We’ll figure everything out,” he said quietly.
I turned my head to look at him. His expression was calm, steady, not panicked, and I nodded faintly before my eyelids began to droop. My head tipped against his shoulder as sleep pulled at me, dragging me under in uneven waves.
I drifted in and out, catching fragments of movement, voices, the soft rumble of Titan’s breathing. At some point the car stopped, a door opened, and cold air brushed my cheek before strong arms slid beneath me.
I blinked, barely conscious, as Knox lifted me out of the car like I weighed nothing. My head fell against his shoulder automatically, my body molding to his without resistance, his scent wrapping around me, familiar and safe.
He carried me inside, and I let him, too drained to move or speak, trusting him completely as the world blurred at the edges and my thoughts slipped out of reach. I was dimly aware of the front door opening, then closing, of Titan’s nails clicking softly behind us, a quiet whine following.
Then there was the bed. The softness beneath me as Knox lowered me down, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“Sleep,” he murmured.
The coverlet settled over me, warm and light, and a soft sigh escaped my lips. I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes again.
Sleep pulled me under before I could.