Chapter 17
Blair
I didn’t realize how much I’d been holding in until I told them.
They didn’t cry. They didn’t interrupt. They just listened. And somehow, that was worse.
Later that night, I curled up on Madison’s couch, clutching a mug of cider that had long since gone cold. My mind was replaying everything. Every word. Every look.
And then Greyson showed up.
I hadn’t expected him, but the second I saw him, something in me broke wide open. The fact that he even came, that he knew what happened and didn’t look at me with pity or disgust, just steady, fierce care. I let him in without hesitation.
Now, the early afternoon sunlight crept through the blinds, painting soft stripes across the room. I sat at Madison’s kitchen table in one of her oversized flannels, still feeling the echo of his arms around me.
Madison waddled in and immediately reached for the kettle.
“You okay?” she asked, watching me with one eye.
I nodded slowly. “Actually… yeah. Better than I’ve felt in a long time.”
She smiled softly, then sat across from me with a mug. “Good. Because I was worried.”
“I told them, Mads. I told them everything.”
“I know. I’m proud of you.”
There was a long pause before I said it out loud. “I think I’m falling in love with him.”
Her eyebrows rose. “With Greyson?”
I nodded, staring at my mug. “He held me last night like I wasn’t broken. Like I was something precious.”
Madison reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “That’s because you are.”
I was sorting through manuscript notes when I heard the soft but urgent knock on my bedroom door.
“Blair?” Madison’s voice was thin. “Are you busy?”
It was barely past 7:00 pm, and the sun was just starting to set below the trees.
But something in her tone had me out of the chair before my feet could catch up.
I opened the door to find her standing there, one hand on the hallway wall, the other pressed protectively across her belly.
She looked pale. Off. Not just tired, frightened .
“I think something’s wrong,” she whispered.
My stomach dropped. “Come sit.”
We made it to the couch, and I helped her ease down slowly. Her hands trembled as she lowered herself.
“I’ve been having this cramping since around four,” she said, wincing. “It’s not contractions, not like that. But it’s sharp. I was napping and woke up drenched in sweat, and now my hands feel tight. Swollen.”
“You should call your OB.”
“I did. They told me to come in just to be safe. I wasn’t going to bother you, but then my vision started getting weird.”
That was all I needed to hear. I grabbed my shoes and keys in one motion. “We’re going. Let me get your bag.”
She looked up at me with wide eyes. “You don’t have to, ”
“Stop. I’m not letting you go to the hospital alone.”
The drive was quiet except for the scratchy hum of the public radio and Madison’s shallow breaths. She clutched her belly like it grounded her, like she was holding on to more than just a baby. She was scared. And she was mine to protect.
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “You didn’t sign up for this.”
“Madison,” I said gently, eyes still on the road. “This isn’t something you apologize for. You’re not a burden. You’re my friend. And I want to be here.”
She nodded, blinking fast.
At a red light, I reached over and grabbed her hand. “You’re not alone in this, okay?”
She didn’t say anything for a second. Then she nodded again, tighter this time. “Okay.”
They took her back quickly at the women’s center and let me come in after she told the nurse I was her emergency contact. That word stuck with me.
Emergency contact.
It meant first person . It meant I trust you .
Madison laid back while the nurse took her vitals and hooked her up to a fetal monitor. The room filled with the steady whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of the baby’s heartbeat. Strong and rhythmic.
Madison let out a shaky breath and looked at me. “Still in there.”
“Still strong.”
Dr. Patel came in a few minutes later and talked through everything: the swelling, vision changes, elevated blood pressure. She was gentle but honest.
“You did the right thing coming in,” she said. “There’s nothing immediately alarming, but we’re entering that watchful window. I’m going to have you come in daily now until your due date. We’ll keep a close eye on things.”
Madison nodded, biting her lip to keep it from trembling.
We drove home in silence, exhaustion thick between us. I made her tea and tucked her under a blanket on the couch. She looked so small beneath it all.
“I didn’t tell anyone about the high-risk part,” she said after a while. “It felt easier to just… be strong. Be fine.”
“You don’t always have to be strong.”
She looked at me then, really looked. “I’m glad you came back.”
“Me too.”
“I know you didn’t plan on staying long. But part of me hoped you would.”
My throat tightened. “I didn’t think I could come back. But being here with you, helping you, watching you carry this tiny person. It’s the first time I’ve felt like maybe I don’t need to run anymore.”
Madison smiled, eyes glassy. “If you stay, I promise to let you pick her middle name.”
I gasped. “That is power I do not take lightly.”
We both laughed, the tension melting just a little.
As the late-night breeze filtered through the cracked window and Madison drifted into a light sleep, I sat beside her with my notebook, a half-written scene blinking on the page. I hadn’t known what this chapter of my life would look like when I returned.
But sitting here, holding space for her, maybe this was it. Maybe this was home .