Chapter Twenty-Five Xalori Carson #2
A reminder that stress had a price. That I wasn’t just fighting to survive anymore, I was carrying life again. And that life needed me strong, focused, and unshakable.
The doctor made some notes, adjusted the blood pressure cuff, and let me know someone would be in soon with water and a light snack. But even after she left the room, I couldn’t stop watching the monitor.
The steady rhythm of that heartbeat was the only thing grounding me. That and the sound of the door clicking open minutes later.
Eason came in first, followed by Nasir, who held up a juice box like it was an apology offering.
“Got your favorite, Mommy,” he said quietly, his eyes still filled with worry.
I opened my arms, and he ran to me without hesitation, curling up beside me like he used to do when he had nightmares.
“I’m okay, baby,” I whispered into his curls.
He nodded, pressing a kiss to my arm. “Daddy said we gon’ get pancakes after. But only if I don’t cry.”
Eason smirked from the corner of the room. “That’s not exactly how I said it, but close enough.”
Ginger toddled over next, arms stretched up toward the exam bed. “Mama!” she whined. “I wanna lay too.”
Eason scooped her up before I could even move. “Easy, greedy. You gon’ squish your baby brother or sister.”
Ginger looked confused for a second, then turned her wide eyes to me. “You got a baby in there?”
I smiled. “Yep. You’re gonna be a big sister.”
Her eyes lit up with something that damn near broke me in the best way. “I share my bear,” she whispered solemnly. “But only sometimes.”
Eason laughed. “That’s generous as hell, Muffin. She don’t share with nobody.”
I leaned back against the pillow, Ginger on one side, Nasir on the other, Eason standing guard at the foot of the bed like the world wasn’t allowed to touch us unless it went through him first.
And for the first time all day, I felt okay. Still scared, still processing but okay.
The nurse came in briefly to remove the monitor straps and hand me a paper with discharge instructions, but Eason didn’t move. His hand stayed on my thigh, firm and grounding, as the nurse gave the usual spill about taking it easy and reducing emotional stress. I could feel his whole body tense.
As soon as the door clicked shut again, he stepped closer to the side of the bed, his fingers trailing lightly along the inside of my wrist like he was tracing a pulse. Like he needed proof I was still here.
“You scared the fuck outta me today, Muffin.”
His voice was low. Rough. That barely-there edge of vulnerability he only ever let me see.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure if that was for him or me.
Eason didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me. And I mean really looked like he was memorizing the lines of my face, the color of my lips, the way my lashes trembled when I blinked too fast.
Then his voice dropped to something dark and final. “They not gon’ keep playin’ with you.”
My heart thudded hard.
“Prime, Harmony gon’ pay for even thinkin’ about takin’ what’s mine.”
I sat up a little as he cupped my face, his thumb brushing beneath my eye.
“You could’ve lost the baby today. Could’ve broke right here in this fuckin’ room and for what? For some bitter-ass cowards who think they still got pull in your life?” He shook his head slowly. “Nah. That ends now.”
“Eason—”
“Nah, don’t ‘Eason’ me,” he muttered, dropping to his knees in front of the bed like it was a goddamn altar.
His hands slid over my thighs, slow and reverent, like he was grounding himself with the feel of me.
“You gon’ rest. You gon’ heal. You gon’ carry our baby without another fuckin’ tear. And I’ll handle the rest.”
I swallowed hard, emotion climbing up my throat.
“I mean that shit, Muffin. Every last bitch in our way, I’m wiping the board clean. If they think they gon’ hurt you again—physically, legally, emotionally—I’ll make sure they never get the chance to blink again. You hear me?”
I nodded, voice caught in my chest.
His lips brushed over my stomach, then my knuckles, then finally my mouth. A kiss that felt like ownership and worship at the same time.
“I don’t need the law. I don’t need approval. I just need you breathing, smiling, safe. And I’ll do whatever the fuck it takes to protect that.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks, silent and slow. But they weren’t from fear this time. Or sadness. Or loss.
They were from the overwhelming, terrifying, soul-deep truth that this man loved me with everything he had. With every darkness inside of him. Every broken piece. Every quiet promise tucked behind his rage.
“I love you,” I whispered, leaning into his mouth. “Even when it scares me.”
He grinned, rough and wolfish. “Good. I want you scared, baby. I want you to know exactly how deep this shit goes.”
He kissed me again, longer this time and slower. Like he was sealing every vow with his mouth. Then he pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes.
“Now come home with me. Let me lay you down. Let me remind you who the fuck you belong to.”
And just like that, the fear that had taken root in my chest all day began to wither. Because I wasn’t just carrying life. I was finally living it with a man ready to go to war to protect it all.