3. Fia
FIA
“The bloodwork came back clear,” says the doctor the following morning while I’m browsing through the breakfast options, desperately searching for something to interest my appetite.
“That means I can go?” I abandon the menu, looking forward to eating junk food on the couch to make myself feel better.
“I’d like to do one more ultrasound before you leave.” The doctor keeps looking at me. “Did you remember where you were living before the crash?”
I grimace. “The waters are still murky.”
“The home address in your records was last updated eleven years ago. It says here,” says the doctor, consulting the folder, “that you’re currently living in Broadmoor.”
“Not anymore,” I scoff, wishing the amnesia wiped different memories.
“Since you can’t remember your new address and this is the latest on the system, you’ll have to go back there.” The doctor prepares the ultrasound, wheeling a portable computer this way.
I sink into the hospital bed feeling even more defeated than yesterday, removing my gown so the doctor has access to my stomach.
The car must have hit me hard, but it’s a slight knock compared to how hard reality is hitting me now. I stare at my bump, desperately pushing through the fog in my mind so I can remember just a glimpse of the past. But more clouds emerge, my head hurting the more I force myself to remember.
“The memories will come back,” assures the doctor as he sticks a gadget on my stomach, moving it around. “Forcing yourself to think will cause unnecessary stress on you and the babies, and the three of you have been through quite enough.”
A knock at the door steers my attention from the ultrasound screen. I look at the door, my breath catching when I see Emil. Those black eyes are unmissable, darker than the night.
He’s standing with a male nurse, so the doctor is obliged to at least see what the worker wants. “One second,” he sighs, removing the device from my belly and heading to the door. “I’m in the middle of an ultrasound,” he mutters to the nurse.
“The father should be present,” says the nurse. “You know the rules.”
“It’s up to the patient,” says the doctor, turning over his shoulder to include me in their conversation. “Fia—would you like this gentleman in the room?”
I’d rather drink bleach, but I feel inclined to say yes. He’s the only hope I have at getting my memories back.
“Sure,” I groan, sliding further back into bed, letting this cardboard mattress take my weight. “But I want him gone as soon as the ultrasound is over.”
“We’ll see about that,” chuckles Emil, stepping in. He waves goodbye to the nurse he appears to know very well and stands at my side.
My breath catches, feeling his shadow swallow me whole. He’s as tall as the high-rise buildings in this city. I look up into his eyes and feel insignificant—another sign this man has to be lying. I’d never marry a man this intimidatingly handsome who moves through the world like a wrecking ball.
My blood boils as I stare at his face, unsure if hatred or lust is to blame for how sweaty I’m feeling. There’s a fine line between both emotions, and I’m terrified of crossing over into the other side, especially since I don’t trust my body at the moment.
The cold gadget wakes me from my trance as the doctor moves the scanner over my lower abdomen again.
“There they are,” says the doctor, wheeling the screen closer for me to see. “Both hearts are beating just fine.”
Tears prick my eyes. Before I know it, I’m crying like a baby, sniffling and dabbing tears.
Human life is inside of me. I’m growing two babies, and somehow, they both survived the incident.
Miracles don’t exist, not unless you apply yourself and work your butt off to achieve something. All I did was sleep for two days.
“We’ll need to see you on a regular basis, Miss Ranger, to monitor the babies and ensure the rest of the pregnancy goes as planned.”
“Goes as planned,” repeats Emil. “What does that mean?”
The doctor slots the gadget back into the compartment, wheeling the portable computer away.
“Both fetuses look healthy, but there’s always the chance things can change.
For example, sometimes with acute trauma, babies can be born underdeveloped.
This can be a risk with twins if one of them is developing slower than the other.
We’ll monitor blood flow and see if there are any abnormal changes. ”
“There won’t be,” I say, refusing to believe the health complications. My heart beats anxiously in my chest. My mind is numb, but I feel my body screaming at me, like it remembers the pregnancy… and the man standing beside me.
“Like I said before,” continues the doctor, “you and the babies have been through a lot. You’re twenty-three weeks pregnant, which means you should start experiencing kicks. If this doesn’t happen, make sure to contact your midwife immediately.”
“I don’t have a midwife.”
“Yes, you do,” interjects Emil. “I’ll take care of it.”
The doctor pulls a face, unconvinced. “Speak to your midwife. As someone who has a background in obstetrics, we would look at inducing an early labor and scheduling a C-section.”
My heart beats right out of my chest. I woke up only yesterday. Now I’m being told I should go under the knife and have my fucking stomach cut open?
I glance at Emil, since I have nobody else here to turn to. He clenches his jaw, watching the screen where the ultrasound images are being displayed, staring hard enough to burn holes through the computer.
I’ve seen fear enough times to know that Emil is shitting himself.
He wipes a hand around the back of his neck, taking a step back, sighing. “What’s the chances of Fia and the twins all surviving, coming out of this healthy?”
The doctor stares at Emil briefly before answering. “Fia and the twins have good chances if she takes it easy from now until the C-section. Stress increases the chance of complications.”
Emil’s jaw tightens. He slips his hands into his pockets, saying nothing.
A thick silence fills the room as the doctor squiggles some notes into my folder.
My head is scrambled, still coming to terms with the fact that I’m pregnant and apparently married, but one thing is for certain—these babies have to survive, and I’ll raise them as a single-parent if that’s what it takes to give them a safe, loving childhood.
I’m not so sure I want Emil around being a bad influence, showing my kids that violence is the answer.
But… How do I know for sure he’s violent?
I stare at him, waiting for realization to click in my mind, for the memories to resurface.
I get nothing.
Sighing, I look over the other shoulder, returning to the screen where the image of my babies is still displayed.
I’m a bad mother for carelessly crossing the road, not worried about my safety.
The driver isn’t to blame for hitting me.
I’m oblivious to my surroundings, always getting lost inside of my own head, particularly when work is crazy, which is always.
If I spent more time seeing the world in front of me and actually applying some common sense, maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation.
I look at the ultrasound, feeling some of the fog in my head shift a little.
“I know where I was living.”
“That’s brilliant news,” says the doctor, offering me a smile. “Your memories are already returning.”
“Downtown Seattle,” I blurt out, word vomiting everything before I forget. “Blueridge apartment building. It overlooks the bay.”
“You mean the apartment block that was knocked down last year?” The doctor raises his brow.
I sink into the bed, slamming my head back into the pillow, defeated.
Raising two children when I’m a stranger to my own mind is a disaster waiting to happen.
“You’ve been living with me,” says Emil.
Perfect fucking time for him to swoop in and take me back to his lair, which I can guarantee has no windows.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Perhaps coming back with me will jog your memory.”
“I’m not going back with you.”
“You’re all cleared to be discharged now,” interjects the doctor. “The address on the system is Broadmoor. We can organize a cab to take you there?—”
“No, not Broadmoor.”
The doctor grimaces. “Then your only other option is to go back with…”
“Mr. Volkov,” says Emil, grinning at the doctor. “Fia will be safe with me.”
The doctor flashes Emil another tense look and heads over to the door. “I’ll give you a few minutes to consider your options,” says the doctor, closing the door on his way out.
I bite my lip, watching Emil pace around the room.
Fuck him for paying me a surprise visit again. He should come with a warning, so I’d be able to fix up my appearance a little and feel better about myself. Him being here, dressed to the nines, is doing nothing but illustrating how much of a disaster I am.
“The twins will be fine,” says Emil, like he’s saying that more for his own benefit. “I’ll make sure nobody gets to them.”
I frown. “Why are you saying that like I should be worried someone will murder them?”
Emil stops in his tracks, turning to face me. “There’s no need to worry.”
Easy for him to say. He still has his mind… I think. Then again, threatening a doctor with violence suggests he’s on the verge of losing it.
“You have a home waiting for you, Fia.”
“And where is home exactly?” I tug down my gown, covering my stomach.
Emil scoffs. “No need to cover yourself around me, spitfire. I’ve seen it all before.”
My heart thumps, that line between hatred and lust becoming hazy, quite like my mind. I have an excuse to do something regrettable and beg this stranger to fuck me, since I’m out of sorts. Losing your own mind is beneficial that way.
“Answer my fucking question.”
Emil’s mouth tugs in one corner, like my frustration amuses him. “Snoqualmie Falls.”
“That’s a half hour away from the city in the middle of?—”
“The forest,” finishes Emil. “Yes. Well aware.”
My breath catches. Only people with something to hide live in the middle of the forest. Emil has trouble written in capital letters across his forehead.
Leaving civilization and being alone with this man is a murder story waiting to fucking happen, especially since I don’t even have autonomy over my own mind.
But what is the alternative? I return to my roots in Broadmoor and live with my father, who will welcome me back home with closed arms and a fist?
Both options seem they could violence, which means I must choose my violence.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You don’t,” says Emil, stepping forward. “But you should listen to your body more. It might start to give you some answers.” He strokes my cheek, his rough finger causing shivers. “You always blush like this when you want me, spitfire.”
“I don’t want you.”
“Still a little stubborn thing, aren’t you?” he purrs, standing over me.
I swallow the boulder-sized lump in my throat, staring into his eyes. His body completely engulfs mine, shadows curling around the room as he blocks the light.
His face is full of mystery, the fine lines and gray hair roots indicating lots of life experience. He’s twice my fucking age, old enough to be my father, perhaps even slightly older.
He leans in, stroking his rough finger along my temple. By default, I melt into him. He appears to have his life together, and I could borrow some of his strength right now.
My heart drums in my throat, my thighs slippery underneath this hospital gown as I clench them together.
Emil places his hand over my stomach, and this time I actually let him. His warmth feels reassuring, like I finally have someone to lean on, even though the rational side of me is urging me to run for the hills.
I gasp, his hand on my stomach hitting a nerve, pushing the fog away for just a moment.
My skin tingles as he brushes his hand over my bare belly.
“What the hell are you saying? Speak English.”
Afternoon light seeps in through the kitchen windows, landing on my naked body. My pussy is sore from when he fucked me over the countertop only moments ago.
“It’s a Russian lullaby, supposed to protect the most innocent souls from evil eyes.”
I blink back to reality, the white hospital lights filling my vision. I find Emil at the bedside staring at me, multiple lines forming between his brow as he watches me with concern.
“Everything okay?”
“You fucked me over the kitchen countertop?”
“There she is.” Emil winks. “My little spitfire.”
“Why would I let you do that?”
“Come back home with me,” says Emil, offering me his hand. “And you might find out.”