Chapter One Hundred Thirty
Ruby
The hospital room smells like antiseptic and stale coffee. Machines hum beside the bed. The monitor beside me blinks steady green numbers that the nurse already assured me are normal.
‘Everything looks fine.’ The doctor said that twice. Emily said it three times. Bella repeated it before stepping out to find coffee.
Everything looks fine.
But my body still feels tight with fear. My hand rests low against my stomach.
The doctor said stress could affect things. But it’s early. Which means there’s nothing they can do except wait and see.
The thought knots painfully in my chest. What if something happens later? What if…. Stop. I close my eyes. The baby is okay. Right now, that has to be enough.
Across the room, Xavier sits in the chair near the wall. Elbows braced against his knees. Hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles look pale.
He hasn’t stopped moving since we got here. His thumbs rubbing together. Leg bouncing once in a while. Jaw tightening every few seconds like he’s holding himself together by force.
I watch him for a long moment. Not the wrinkles on his shirt. Not the dark circles under his eyes. Just him. Lindsey was in my home. She almost killed me. Us.
And Xavier hadn’t wanted to label what we were to each other…. hadn’t said a word about hooking up with her in the past before I overheard their conversation.
If he had, would I have put two and two together and realized who was after me rather than blaming myself?
“She was in the gym,” I say.
His head lifts. “What?”
“At the desk. Talking to me. Asking questions.” I swallow hard. “Watching.”
Xavier drags a hand down his face. Pain flashes openly across it now.
“She knew me,” I whisper. “And I didn’t even know she mattered.”
That one lands hard. I see it in the way his shoulders tense. “Ruby–”
“All this time…” My voice shakes now. “I thought someone was after me because I rejected someone.” I stare down at my hand resting against my stomach. “But it was because she thought we were together.”
Xavier exhales. Like the air hurts coming out. “I didn’t know what she was capable of.”
“I know.” And I do know. That’s the horrible part. He didn’t ask for this either. But that doesn’t change what happened. Doesn’t erase the notes. The fear. The holes in my kitchen. The scratches on my arms. The bruises on my body.
“I don’t know how to separate you from all of it right now.”
His eyes close. Like the words physically hit him. “I understand.”
The pain in his voice nearly doubles me over, but what’s the point? He didn’t even correct me when I said that Lindsey thought we were together. Not that we were together.
A lump rises painfully in my throat because I feel wrecked. Completely wrecked. My fingers curl tighter against the blanket. “She almost killed me. And she almost hurt the baby.”
Emotion cracks through the last word.
Xavier’s head drops. Like he can’t even bear hearing it out loud. Silence stretches between us again. Heavy. Exhausted. Raw.
This was not how I wanted him to find out about the baby, but I’m too rung-out to discuss how we co-parent once the baby is born. I know he’ll be a good father. This might not have been what he wanted, but he won’t back down from an obligation. Ever.
“I know you came for me.” His gaze meets mine. “And I know you saved me.” The words matter. I need him to know they matter. “But I’m scared.”
“I know. You have every right to be. She….” He shakes his head and rakes his hand down his face. “You’ve been violated, and you did nothing to deserve it.”
My throat tightens hard. “Right now, every part of this feels tangled together in my head.”
Xavier nods once. Small. Like he already understands where this is going.
I swallow hard before forcing the next words out. “I need some space before we discuss anything.”
Because I know he feels guilty. I know he feels obligated to protect me. To be a father to our baby. But I don’t know if he wants that because it’s what he wants or because everything is a mess.
The pain that crosses his face is immediate. Sharp enough that my chest aches with it. But he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t try to convince me otherwise.
And that hurts too.