20. Allie
ALLIE
“Oh my fucking God, Zander. They forgot the ranch.”
“You’re kidding.”
“You need to turn around.”
“Already am.”
His entire car lurches as he hits the brakes before he flicks on his blinker and slides into the left lane, flipping a U-turn and heading back in the direction of the restaurant we just ordered take-out from.
My patience is hanging on by a goddamn string right now, and the only thing keeping me alive at this moment is the scent of the sweet chili glaze on the chicken wings I’m about to demolish—which I cannot do without dipping them in ranch.
I had a long shift at the bakery today since we’re out of school for the remainder of the week.
Thursday is Thanksgiving, and the twin’s twenty-first birthday.
I haven’t come up with an excuse yet for why I won’t be able to go out with Zander, but if I continue to be as irritable as I have been lately, he probably won’t want me around anyway.
I didn’t want to tell Dahlia no when she asked if I could work longer shifts this week—as most of her other staff are taking time off to travel for the holiday.
I’ve realized that a ten-hour shift on my feet is much harder than it used to be—with the fetus inside me sucking out every last drop of my energy and making my feet swell and my back ache.
Plus, the smell of burnt bread still makes my stomach queasy, so I haven’t eaten all day.
Zander stopped in after finishing his last class, and when he took one look at my hollowed-out eyes and irate expression, he helped me close the shop and told me he was going to get me dinner.
One thing I love most about him is how much of an empath he is. He’s the kind of person who will sit with me in my distress—no matter the reason, no matter how irrational or dramatic it may be. If I throw a fit, he’ll throw one with me, even if he doesn’t know what it’s about.
He never asked me what was wrong, never asked me to explain my shitty mood—and somehow, he just knew I needed chicken wings.
Zander whips back into the parking lot, hopping out of the car and jogging inside before returning thirty seconds later with a pint-sized to-go cup of ranch.
I add it to the bag, bending between my legs to reach toward the floor of the car when a sudden, heavy pressure floods my head and begins pounding behind my eyes.
I shoot back up, vision swimming, a surge of nausea rushing through me. Black dots blur my sight, and the world goes unfocused before righting itself. I blink hard. “Whoof.”
“You okay?” he asks, pulling back out onto the main road.
“Yeah.” I breathe. “Just hungry, I think. Empty stomach makes me car sick.”
“Okay. I’ll drive slower.”
Those black dots continue dotting my periphery, and I wonder if I may be dehydrated on top of everything else.
I’ve been dizzy the last few days, but it was another symptom I thought was normal—especially considering how little I’ve been sleeping while studying for finals.
That, mixed with the long shift today and the lack of food, I’m not surprised I’m lightheaded—but the blurry vision is new.
Is this kid going to make me need glasses?
I make a mental note to research that later.
When we pull into the parking lot behind the boardwalk, I open the passenger door of Zander’s truck, bending down to grab the food from the floorboard when it hits me again.
It’s like my brain rattling inside my skull—someone shaking me side to side as everything blurs.
I push through the wave, lowering my leg to the ground and moving to step out when the world suddenly spins faster—faster than I can track—and my mind blanks out.
Everything goes dark.
“Jesus Christ, Allie.”
Something warm on my face.
“Allie! Fuck.”
A hand. A voice I know well.
“Oh my God.”
I’m floating. I groan. Then, a slam.
A rattle. A roar.
“Can you say something to me, Allie Cat?”
I pry my eyes open, blinking hard as my surroundings register. I’m back in the car. It’s moving again. And… “I’m going to throw up.”
He hits the brakes. I lurch forward, barely getting the door open before I’m leaning out and spewing my guts across the concrete.
I wipe my mouth, closing myself back inside the truck as I ask, “Where’s the chicken?”
I realize we’re driving away from the boardwalk, my apartment, when Zander says, “You fell out of my truck, the chicken wings are all over the parking lot.”
“Are we going to get new ones?”
“What?” He looks at me as we pull up to a stoplight. His blond hair is wild—wind-whipped. His brown eyes are blazing and bloodshot. “I’m taking you to the hospital, Allie. You fainted.”
I fainted. I fell.
Trepidation coats my skin, a gasp flying from my throat as my hands fly to my stomach. “The baby.”
“Excuse the fuck out of me? The what?”
I let out a shuddering sigh, eyes stinging as I clamp them shut and toss my head back against the seat. A cold chill shoots through me, panic releasing in its wake. “Please get me to the hospital.” The words leave my mouth fractured and raspy—petrified.
“Fuck. Okay, okay. It’s okay. We’re going to the hospital right now.”
The medical center is only a couple of blocks from the boardwalk, so Zander is pulling into the parking lot in under five minutes. He hops out of the truck the second it’s put into park and runs to my side before I even have the chance to get my door open.
I unbuckle myself, and Zander takes my hand. “Do you need me to carry you?”
I shake my head, but he keeps a palm at the small of my back as we walk across the parking lot and through the emergency room doors. There is a low hum of conversation in the waiting area, and a phone ringing behind a desk somewhere.
I pick up my pace, holding my abdomen as Zander follows me to check-in.
“Hi,” I say to the nurse behind the desk.
“I’m sixteen weeks pregnant, and I’ve been a bit light-headed the last few days.
Just a little while ago, I got very dizzy, my vision blurred, and then…
I fainted.” My voice is shaking, stuttering, as I attempt to explain my fears.
“I fell out of a truck and I don’t know—”
“Okay. Okay.” She nods, immediately standing from her chair and rounding the desk. “Can you walk or do you need me to get you a wheelchair?”
“I… I think I can walk?”
She smiles softly—an attempt to be reassuring, I think. She guides me through the double doors that lead to the triage room, and helps me onto a bed before swiping the curtain shut behind herself, Zander, and me, giving us privacy from other patients.
Another nurse enters a moment later, introducing himself, though I’m too distressed to remember his name.
Two more nurses—or nursing assistants, I don’t even know—come by after that.
They poke me with things, take my vitals, make me pee in a cup, and then ask me a million questions while they move us to a private exam room.
When did the symptoms start?
Have you fainted before?
Is this your first pregnancy?
Are you allergic to any medications?
Any underlying conditions?
The list goes on and on…
A nurse asks Zander, “And are you dad?”
His eyes flit to mine as he mutters, “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Zander,” I hiss before turning to the nurse. “I’m sorry. No, he’s not.”
“Okay.” He laughs awkwardly. “Well, Allie, your vitals look okay, you don’t appear to be concussed or have suffered any major contusions from your fall.
Your blood pressure is quite elevated, which is the likely cause of the fainting spell.
I’ll be sending the doctor in to speak with you about that and we’re going to test your urine sample, then we’ll do a quick ultrasound to make sure your baby is looking good before we send you on home. ”
I’m so on edge that I only process about half of what he says, but I nod. “Okay. Thank you.”
When he leaves Zander and me alone, I stare at my lap, terrified to meet his eyes.
“Allie,” Zander says, tone stern and gentle at the same time, forcing me to lift my head and look at him. His eyes flick to my stomach. “That my niece or nephew in there?”
In the newfound quiet of the room, the weight of life settles over me, pressing down like a concrete block is on my shoulders.
Zander studies me with his hand on his chin, brows pinched, like he can’t make sense of me.
Hope and sorrow war inside his deep hazel gaze—so much disappointment when he shakes his head at me, but it’s somehow mixed with an anticipation that’s teetering on the edge of pure joy when his lips twitch upward.
It overwhelms me, the unconditional love I find on his face, even when I know he’s going to feel betrayed because of this. Emotion stings my nose and fills my throat as my view of his face blurs with tears.
I only nod.
He shudders with a long-held exhale, shaking his head as his eyes flutter and his jaw sets. He’s quiet for a long moment before he finally asks, “How long have you known?”
“Six weeks,” I whisper.
“Fucking hell, Allie.” He wipes a hand down his face. “I can’t believe this. And you haven’t told anyone?”
“Willow knows,” I murmur.
He scoffs. “And you’ve been making her keep this from her family?”
Her family. Not ours.
“I don’t want anyone to know until he knows.”
“Then why doesn’t he?” Z shouts. He sighs, composing himself before tossing his head back against the wall.
“He’d quit football if he knew,” I whisper. “He’d give it all up in an instant, and… I can’t be that for him. I can’t be the thing that made him lose his dreams.”
“You are blind, Allie,” Zander mutters. “Blind.” He grips the door handle. “I’ll be in the waiting room to take you home when you’re done.”
“Zander…” His name leaves my lips on a cracked whisper. “Please stay with me.”
He looks at me over his shoulder, tears lining his brown eyes. “I can’t sit here and see my brother’s baby before he even has a chance to know it exists.”
I can’t argue with that, so I let him go.
When the doctor enters a few minutes later, I’m told there are no major concerns, but that my charts would be sent to Dr. Abbey for follow up.
After I informed them my mom has a history of hypertension, they confirmed that my blood pressure was the likely culprit of my fainting when paired with fatigue, dehydration, and hunger.
I’m advised to spend less time on my feet, get plenty of rest, and ensure I stay hydrated and well fed. The ultrasound proves that my baby is perfectly healthy and growing at a good rate, and I’m discharged with a follow-up appointment scheduled with Dr. Abbey tomorrow.
Zander doesn’t speak to me the entire ride back to my apartment, but ten minutes after he drops me off, I receive a notification from a food delivery app—chicken wings and extra ranch were left outside my door.