34. Julian
CHAPTER 34
JULIAN
T he sound of a door opening behind me pulls me from my restless sleep. I sit up, the muscles of my back aching from being bent forward at a right angle all night. Natalie's hand rests in mine on the hospital bed—exactly where it's been for the past twenty-four hours.
“Good morning,” the nurse says to me as she walks around the foot of Natalie's bed toward the beeping medical equipment. “How is she doing today?”
“The same,” I answer, rubbing my eyes with my free hand. “Still out.”
The nurse gives me a reassuring smile before checking the stats on the machine. “It can take a while to wake up after a head injury like that. The good news is her vitals are still perfect. I bet it won't be too much longer now.”
My stomach churns as the memories of yesterday flash violently in my mind. More disturbing than Gabriel's attempt to harm us is the image of Natalie lying on the pavement, unconscious, a thin stream of blood trickling from above her ear. I shove the image from my mind and give Nat's hand a gentle squeeze, trying to ground myself in the present.
“And the baby?” The question burns as it comes out, my throat dry, my voice hollow.
“The doctor will be here soon to talk to you about that,” the nurse answers. “Just sit tight for a few minutes.”
Her response does nothing to ease my worry. If anything, it only scares me further that she won’t answer my question herself; it's always the doctor’s job to relay bad news.
The nurse shuffles out of the room then, leaving me alone with Natalie once more. The bandage wrapped around her head makes me nauseated, a constant reminder that I couldn't protect her despite how desperately I tried.
Given the circumstances, I guess I should be grateful that the only injury she incurred was a minor concussion from her fall on the driveway, but it's difficult to feel anything other than despair when the woman I love—the woman carrying my child—is lying unconscious in a hospital bed, tubes and wires tethering her to multiple machines.
At least the danger is gone now, I remind myself. Aria's sitter watched the scene from the kitchen window and called the police as soon as she saw the gun. I was able to wrestle Gabriel to ground, knock the gun away, and keep him pinned there until the police were able to arrest him. The one shot he made before I tackled him thankfully missed its mark, embedding into the side of my house instead. The whole situation is over, the men responsible sitting in jail and awaiting a hearing.
Yet I don't feel relieved.
The door opens again, and I turn reluctantly from Natalie to see Jack, a similar bandage taped to his own forehead. “Morning,” he offers simply, handing me a cup of coffee. I accept gratefully and take a sip, the hot, bitter liquid rousing my foggy faculties. “How is she?”
I sigh, my eyes drifting back to Natalie, her chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of her breathing. “The nurse says everything looks perfect. The only problem is she's still not awake.”
Jack nods, settling into a chair on the other side of the bed. “Have you talked to the doctor yet today?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. Soon, hopefully.”
“And Aria?” he asks gently.
“Back at her aunt and uncle's,” I answer, grateful at least that she doesn't have to be here to see this. It's bad enough that she saw part of the incident through the window yesterday. Hopefully having fun with her cousins will help alleviate some of her stress.
If I wasn’t already planning to give her sitter a major bonus, she’ll definitely get one now for getting Aria away from the window, especially before the gun went off.
We lapse into silence, the beeping of the equipment the only sound in the sterile hospital room. As far as Jack knows, the only concern I have now is for Natalie's wellbeing. He knows nothing about the baby, about the potential risk of losing the pregnancy after an injury like this.
Part of me wants to tell him, to have a friend to help shoulder the weight of my worry. The other part of me wants to keep it a secret, clinging desperately to this tiny piece of Natalie that I alone carry. In a strange way, it's almost a comfort to me; my own private happiness as well as fear.
The door opens once again, and this time the doctor steps in, and my heart leaps to my throat. Clipboard in hand, as he addresses by name. “Good morning, Mr. Rodriguez, Mr. Williams.” We've been around so persistently that the whole staff probably knows us by now. “I thought you two might like an update.”
“Please,” I breathe, setting my coffee down so I can wrap Nat's hand in both of mine.
“First of all, as I'm sure the nurse probably told you, her vitals look great. She's not in need of any kind of life support, which is a great sign. So, for now, we're just going to keep an eye on her and hope she wakes up soon.”
“Why isn't she awake yet?” Jack asks, stealing the question from my own lips. “Shouldn't she be awake by now?”
The doctor tucks his clipboard under his arm. “It's difficult to know with injuries like these. Every person is different. Some wake up within a matter of minutes, others a few days, and others?—”
“Don't wake up at all,” I finish, the words poison on my tongue. It's a possibility I don't even want to consider, but I can't keep myself from thinking the worst.
“In some cases, yes,” the doctor explains, “but I highly doubt that will be the case with Ms. Williams. She's young, strong, healthy. Her CT scan shows only a moderate contusion. In a way, sleep is the best thing for her right now. The body heals much faster when asleep.”
I nod, unable to say anything else. Jack eyes me cautiously before answering the doctor for me. “Thank you. Is there anything else? Any other updates or things we should prepare ourselves for?”
“Oh, yes, one second,” the doctor says, checking his clipboard. I rally at this, steeling myself for whatever news the doctor might have—good or bad—about our unborn child, and what Jack's reaction will be.
“We ran several tests, and after a thorough examination, there’s no cause for immediate concern for the pregnancy at this point.” Relief hits me like a truck, and I crumple, my head falling forward to rest on Natalie's hand. Moisture pricks at my eyes as the doctor continues.
“By our measurements, it looks like baby is measuring at about eight weeks. This is usually a pretty big milestone, as the first eight weeks are the most uncertain. But just to be safe, we're going to keep a close eye on this going forward, and once she wakes up, we'll ask Ms. Williams to take it easy for the next few weeks. I'll also give her a referral to an obstetrician who has experience with cases like hers.”
I can't speak. I can't even lift my head to gauge Jack's reaction. I can only squeeze Nat's hand, my tears falling on her soft skin.
Another moment of silence passes before Jack answers for me again. “Thank you, doctor. That's great news.” His voice is even, giving no hint as to what he might be thinking about the revelation.
“I'm always happy to share good news,” the doctor replies cheerfully. “I'll leave you to it. Just be sure to press the call button if Ms. Williams wakes up.” He exits the room then, leaving Jack and me alone with Natalie once more.
Jack lets out a long, heavy sigh before he speaks, and I tense, preparing for the lecture I not only expect, but probably deserve. “I suspected, you know,” Jack says, his voice sounding tired. “Ever since she got sick a few weeks ago. She never seemed to get totally better after that.”
I swallow hard, trying to force down the lump in my throat, but it won't budge. My whole body is exhausted, all the stress and worry and tension finally lifted after a hellish nightmare that stretched on far too long. I remain folded onto the bed, Natalie's limp hand pressed tightly to my cheek.
“It is yours, right?”
At that I lift my head, about to tear into Jack for such an outrageous question, when I spy his sarcastic grin stretching over his face.
“Oh, shut up,” I mutter, dropping back to the bed once more.
“I always feared this would happen,” Jack continues, his voice laced with his twisted sense of humor. “I guess I should be grateful that it happened now and not back in high school.”
“Fuck you,” I retort quietly, and Jack laughs, a big, hearty sound.
“I'm sorry, but I think I'm allowed to give you shit for knocking up my baby sister,” he teases.
He has a point. And I appreciate Jack trying to lighten the situation, but my heart is anything but light. I haven't eaten, have hardly slept since Natalie was brought into the hospital. I'm utterly spent, and I'm not going to feel any better until Natalie wakes up, when I know for certain that she's okay.
“Listen, Julian,” Jack begins, his tone shifting into something more serious, more gentle. “Thank you for protecting Natalie.”
His thanks is both unexpected and undeserved. If anything, he should be furious. It's my fault that we're in this situation in the first place. It's me Mason was after. It's me that got Natalie pregnant. Me that let her fall and hit her head.
“I didn't protect her,” I murmur, straightening up. “I'm the one who put her in danger, and after everything I did to try to keep her safe, she still got hurt in the end.”
Jack leans forward, his eyes fixing mine with an intense gaze. “You might have saved her life, Julian. You couldn't have predicted any of this, but I'm glad it was you at her side when everything went down. You'll never be able to prevent bad things from happening—none of us can—but I know I can trust you one hundred percent to keep Natalie safe, whatever the cost.”
Jack's words resonate deep within me, and the dam breaks, my tears flowing freely now. I can't remember the last time I cried like this. I've spent so many years of my life trying to shove everything down, to be strong, to handle things on my own so the people I love don't have to worry. But this whole summer, everything with Natalie and the Langford and Mason and the baby, it's all been so much, and I can't carry the weight of it alone anymore.
I cry openly, my body shaking with the effort. At some point, Jack appears at my side, a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“Let it out, man,” he whispers. “Let it go.”