Chapter 47 #2
I almost wished she wouldn’t wake up, that she’d keep sleeping for a while longer, keep her peace. I wasn’t ready to watch her realize what’d happened.
“Where’s Micah?” she asked in her sleepy, sad voice.
“He’s coming back,” I lied. I had no idea how long Micah would be gone.
Dakota winced, a little sob crawling up her throat as she pressed a palm flat to her lower abdomen, eyes squeezing shut tight again. She probably knew what was happening. I kept holding her hand as I lightly stroked her upper arm with my fingers.
In some terrible way, I wondered if her body had already known what was coming before her brain realized it. If she somehow knew she’d need us both in the morning, and that was why she’d asked us both to sleep in his bed.
“I think something’s wrong,” she whimpered, a few tears slipping out from under her dark lashes, rolling down her cheeks.
I cupped her face, swiping my thumb over her tear stained cheek, then leaned down to kiss her forehead. She grabbed my forearms and started crying harder, her body trembling.
“I’m going to help you, baby,” I murmured.
“No.” Dakota shook her head. “I’m okay,” she tried to say, the end of her response getting cut off by a gasp of pain. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t looked at the stain, and I felt it was on purpose. “Mason.”
“Baby,” I whispered.
“What happened?” She sucked in a harsh breath, shaking worse now, still refusing to turn her head.
“I don’t know for sure.”
Dakota slowly twisted her body, staring down at her bloody shorts and the stain below her on the bed. A sob punched out of her chest as she rolled back to hide her face in Micah’s pillow.
“I don’t want to do this,” she cried, muffled. “I can’t do this. Go get Micah.”
“You can do this. And Micah isn’t here. He’s not in the house at all. I’m going to help you.”
“Well, I want him to come back.” Her hands clenched into fists as she pressed her face against the pillow, body straining through another deep cramp. “You said he was coming back.”
“He left you,” I gritted out, chest aching. “He already knows what happened.”
The second I said it, I regretted it. Because that didn’t convey what he’d actually done.
Dakota turned her head, peering up at me with one glassy eye.
“I hate you. All you ever do is try to make me sad,” she said, injecting as much anger into her voice as she could.
“And you didn’t want this baby in the first place, so I don’t know why you’re even here.
Go away.” Her voice wobbled and broke on the last word. “I want to be alone.”
Rage I wished I could control was trickling through my blood.
“I’m not leaving you right now.”
“Get out!” she screamed, scrambling to push me off of her as she tumbled out of bed towards Micah’s bathroom. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and crawled into the bathroom, dialing Micah.
We both heard his phone buzzing from where it sat on the dresser.
Dakota stared up at me, tears pouring down her cheeks, an angry expression on her face. She swiped away the tears.
“So what happened?” she demanded. “Did I lose the baby? Is that what this means?” Her breathing got heavier, her voice breaking. “I’m not—I don’t fucking know anything about being pregnant. I’ve never—”
Micah would’ve been the one able to confirm it, because he could feel the presence of live Sigeians, not dead ones. But he’d already confirmed that with me.
“Dakota—”
“What am I supposed to do?” Her chin wobbled. “Is it going to come out of me? Do we go to the hospital?”
“We can’t go to the hospital. You can sit on the toilet and wait for some of the…
some blood to come out.” I swallowed, my own eyes stinging.
I felt vastly unprepared for this and pissed at Micah for leaving her.
At first, I’d understood the pain in his eyes, the devastating loss he had to run from, but seeing her like this made me understand nothing.
Dakota kicked her bloody shorts off and sat on the toilet. I took the shorts away, quickly putting them in the wash, then went into the bathroom and sat on the floor near her.
“Dakota, I’m so sorry,” I murmured, resting my hand on her knee.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s fine.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I didn’t care about it that much. I’m fine.”
“Okay.” I ran my palm along her shin.
“I’m not sad, okay? I don’t think I really wanted the baby.”
“I heard you.” She was lying. And the lie was so fucking obvious it made my eyes sting, because I hated that she felt like she had to lie to me about this. I hated that it was happening at all. Hated that Micah had left us, left her. I wanted to kill him for making her go through this alone.
“I’m relieved, actually,” she said through the slight wobble in her voice.
“Okay.”
“I would be a terrible mother.”
“No, you wouldn’t, baby. If you wanted it, you’d be a perfect mother.” Saying the words aloud made a lump swell in my throat.
“Shut up, Mason. I would be a horrible mother and I’m happy the baby is dead now. I didn’t want it.” She was staring at me now, brows furrowed like she was angry, but her lower lip was trembling like she was holding in a sob.
I didn’t know what the fuck to say to her.
Clearly, she didn’t want me to know she was sad about this.
“Can you go away now? I want privacy.”
“I’ll go make some waffles for you, but then I’m coming back. We’re going to get through this. It might be a rough day today, but I’m right here with you.”
She didn’t say anything else.
My heart was so heavy as I left her, going downstairs on autopilot.
I didn’t know how to handle this, but she needed someone to know, so I’d figure it out right now.
I whipped my phone out of my pocket, making a bunch of internet searches while I got frozen blueberry waffles out of the freezer and stuck them in the toaster.
My eyes skimmed over websites with tips, telling me what to expect, what to do to help her.
I sat down at the table, continuing my research while the waffles toasted.
Dakota’s journal was here—the journal she’d decorated on the beach with me.
With ribbons and lace and charms, while the wind ripped over the waves and I spilled my deepest secret.
I’d never read anything in it before, but I was tempted to glance now.
I stuck my finger in the gap where her pen was sitting and flipped the notebook open.
The page I’d flipped to was mostly blank, except:
Baby name idea?
Ivy
That tiny word written in blue pen ripped all the air from my lungs, punched me in the gut, stole the ground from underneath me.
I shut the notebook and left it on the table, breathing heavily, when all I really wanted to do was throw it as hard as I could. Shatter the window, scream until my throat bled, rip every inch of the world apart because she didn’t fucking deserve this.
Ivy.
She’d been hoping for a daughter.
She’d been hoping.
Some part of her.
And now Micah was fucking gone, being a fucking coward, doing the same shit he’d done to me.
He wasn’t strong enough to ever talk about his feelings.
Even if Dakota’s dream had been tragically short-lived, it’d existed. She deserved someone who could support her through that type of loss.
The waffles popped up, so I wiped my tears and put them on a plate. I felt nauseous. My feet carried me upstairs, where I grabbed her water bottle off the nightstand.
I stood outside the bathroom door for a long minute, listening to her cry quietly, hearing every choked sob and gasp for air like knives in my chest. Ivy. I knocked on the door and her crying stopped.
Slowly, I pushed the door open.
She didn’t speak to me while she ate her waffles, but I stayed sitting there on the floor with her. When she finished her breakfast, I set the plate on the counter.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she said, cutting through the quietness, her arms wrapped around her midsection as she bent forward. “I just sit here?”
“You could wear a pad if you want to go lay down. Are you bleeding a lot?”
“I don’t know.” Her lower lip wobbled. “I think I’ll just stay here for a few hours. Did Micah say when he was coming back?”
“No, he didn’t.” I moved closer to her, reaching for her hand. “I want to help you.”
“I think I’m kinda scared,” she said, her voice trembling. “Like, I don’t think I want to look in the toilet. Is that bad?”
“No, baby. You don’t have to. Do you want me to look?”
“I don’t know. I’m scared. I don’t know if I want you to see me like that. Maybe I want to look. But you have to close your eyes.” She was gripping my hand like a lifeline.
I shut my eyes, then heard her shifting.
“Um,” she started. “It just is like blood clots, or something. I didn’t want to look very long. And some ichor with them. I’m going to flush it. Is that fine?”
“Perfectly fine. You do whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it later. I’m just going to keep sitting here for now.”
“Okay.” I squeezed her hand.