Chapter 32
Mason - Six Weeks Later
Megan’s already up when I come downstairs, the faint clicks of the coffee maker filling the quiet.
I glance at the clock on the stove. Six forty-two a.m.
“You’re up early,” I say, tugging my boots on by the door.
She turns with a mug in her hand, hair pulled back, eyes a little heavy. “I have a lot I want to set up in my classroom today, but I couldn’t sleep anyway.”
“I heard you on your phone pretty late,” I say.
She nods. “Yeah, I was just scrolling.”
I step closer, resting my hands on her hips, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. She leans into me like she always does.
“You okay?” I ask, quieter now.
She shrugs. “Just tired.”
She takes a sip of her coffee and winces slightly.
“That bad?” I tease.
She huffs a soft laugh. “No. It’s fine. I just—” She stops, then shakes her head. “Never mind.”
That pause gets my attention. “Hey. What?”
She exhales, leaning back against the counter. “I got up out of bed too fast this morning and got dizzy. But it passed.”
My jaw tightens instantly. “Megan.”
“I said it passed,” she insists gently. “I sat down. Drank some water. I’m fine.”
I look her over—color’s good, eyes clear, other than looking tired.
“You eating?” I ask, nodding toward the untouched food.
“I will,” she says.
I pull her into me, forehead resting against hers. “Text me today,” I say. “Even if it’s nothing.”
“Okay.”
“And if you feel weird, dizzy, shaky, anything, you call me. Me. Got it?”
She pulls back, her smirk cute and teasing. “Yes, sir.”
I kiss her again this time, slow and lingering, like I’ve got nowhere else to be.
“Have a good day, Mrs. Jennings,” I murmur.
She smiles. “You too, Officer.”
As I grab my keys, she calls after me, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I reply.
* * *
The sun’s beating through my windshield, hot enough that the AC is running full blast even though it’s barely past noon. I’m parked at a gas station, finishing up a report, half listening to some guy inside complaining about the price of diesel.
Normal stuff.
I’m halfway through typing the last sentence when my radio crackles.
“Dispatch to Jennings.”
“Go ahead,” I say, half listening, finishing what I’m doing.
“Be advised. Bellamy Elementary is requesting EMS. Female teacher fainted in a classroom. Name given as Megan Jennings. Transport is en route.”
Everything in me goes still. Then hot. Then cold.
“Repeat that,” I say, already shoving my cruiser into drive.
“Bellamy Elementary. Teacher fainted, possible head impact on the way down. Conscious now. EMS is transporting for evaluation. She’s stable.”
Stable. But hit her head.
“Copy,” I manage, but my throat is tight.
I floor it.
Traffic lights blur. My pulse is louder than the siren. Because stable doesn’t mean she didn’t crack her skull open.
My grip tightens on the wheel. I’ve responded to scene after scene, accident after accident, injury after injury, and none of them have ever felt like this. This is different. This is Megan. My wife. My whole world.
God, please…let her be okay.
By the time I pull into the ER lot, I don’t even bother parking straight; the cruiser’s at an angle I’ll probably get yelled at for later. Doesn’t matter. I’m inside in seconds.
The air smells sterile and the lights are bright.
A nurse at the reception desk looks up. “Can I help you?”
“My wife,” I say too fast. “Megan Jennings. She was brought in by EMS.”
She nods, clicking through her screen. “Yes, she just got here. Curtain 4.”
I head that way. Ella steps out in blue scrubs, tablet in hand. Her face changes the second she sees me.
“Mason. She’s okay,” she says immediately, like she already knows the words I’m desperate for. “Scared, shaky, a little pale. But she’s okay.”
My shoulders loosen, relief hitting. Not all the way, but some.
I head toward the curtain, pull it back carefully, and there she is.
Sitting up on a gurney. Warm blanket around her shoulders. A small bandage near her hairline.
Her eyes are tired but her whole face softens when she sees me.
I cross the room, scanning every inch of her, looking for other injuries.
“Hey,” I breathe, forehead dipping to hers. “You okay?”
She nods. “I think. I guess I stood up too fast again or something. I don’t know.”
I pull back. “It wasn’t because of any blood or anything?”
“No, I was just putting all the name tags on the desks and—yeah.”
My thumb brushes along the bandage near her hairline. “Hmm,” I hum, confused, even more on edge about all this now.
She leans her forehead against my shoulder. “I’m tired.”
I reach my arm around her. “Yeah, well, when we get home you’re gonna lay on the couch and let me fuss over you.” I pull back just enough to see her face. “Deal?”
Her smile is tiny, soft. “Deal.”
Right then the curtain shifts, and Ella pokes her head in with a clipboard.
Her warm nurse-voice switches on. “Hey, I’m just gonna grab some vitals and run a quick lab panel—standard after fainting, especially with a head bump. It won’t take long.”
Megan nods, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “Okay.”
Ella gets started, pulling on gloves. “You feeling dizzy anymore?”
“No,” Meg admits. “But tired.”
“That’ll happen. You scared your body.” Ella glances at me. “And your husband.”
I huff out something between a laugh and a groan.
Megan tenses as Ella gets to work. I lean forward instantly.
“Hey,” I say, catching her eyes. “Look at me, not the needle.”
She does and her breathing steadies.
Ella ties a tourniquet, finds the vein, and with practiced ease, the vial starts filling.
Megan winces. I tighten my grip on her hand.
“Good job,” Ella says softly. “All finished. I’ll put a rush on these.”
“Thank you.” I nod.
When the curtain closes again, it’s just us.
We don’t say much. Megan eases back against the pillow, eyes drifting shut. I stand and dim the light, knowing how these things go; she has time to rest.
I stay right where I am, fingers laced through hers, feeling her grip loosen as she drifts off. Her breathing evens out. My thumb traces slow circles over her knuckles, grounding both of us.
About twenty minutes later, the curtain rustles.
This time it’s not Ella. A doctor steps in—midforties, calm, tablet tucked under one arm.
“Hi,” she says gently. “I’m Dr. Sneed. I’ve reviewed your labs.”
Megan stirs, blinking awake, pushing herself upright. I squeeze her hand, instinctively steadying her.
“Take it slow,” I murmur.
The doctor smiles, waiting until Megan’s settled.
“Everything looks good,” she says. “Blood counts are normal, vitals are stable.” She glances down at her tablet, then back up at us. “But I do need to ask…were you aware that you’re pregnant?”
The room goes completely still. Like life itself pauses.
“What?” we say at the exact same time.
A soft smile spreads across the doctor’s face. “Congratulations.”
Megan stares at me, eyes wide, and then she laughs, breathless, disbelieving, and I can’t help but laugh too.
The doctor chuckles quietly. “I’ll give you two a minute,” she says, already stepping back. “I’ll be right outside.”
When the curtain closes again, Megan blinks up at me.
“Are you kidding me?” she whispers. “We weren’t even trying. We were—” She shakes her head, laughing through the shock. “We were actively preventing, Mason.”
I pull her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her hair, my own laughter still tangled with disbelief.
“God certainly has a sense of humor,” I murmur, holding her tight and letting the truth of it settle in.