20. Rex
— ? —
Rex
I had never been this scared. I did not feel it in any boardroom, not in any failing business deal, not in any moment of my entire life.
Freya lay on the hospital bed with monitors attached to her belly and an IV drip in her arm. She was pale but conscious, squeezing my hand hard enough to leave bruises. I didn’t care. She could break every bone in my hand if it made her feel better.
The doctor was a calm woman in her fifties who moved with the practiced efficiency of someone who’d done this a thousand times. She’d already taken blood, run tests, and done something with an ultrasound machine that I couldn’t follow because I was too busy trying not to throw up from fear.
“Good news,” the doctor said finally, and I nearly collapsed with relief. “The baby is fine. Heartbeat is strong, no signs of distress.”
Freya’s whole body sagged against the pillows. “But the cramping was so sharp.”
“You’re dehydrated. Quite severely, actually. Your blood pressure is also lower than we’d like to see.” The doctor made a note on her chart. “The cramping was your body’s way of telling you to slow down. Have you been getting enough rest? Drinking enough water?”
Freya glanced at me. “I’ve been… busy. Working a lot. Not eating as regularly as I should.”
“That needs to change.” The doctor’s voice was firm but kind. “These months can be tricky, and your body is working hard to grow this baby. You need fluids, rest, and significantly less stress. Do you have support at home?”
“She does now,” I said before Freya could answer.
The doctor raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “We’ll keep you on fluids for a few hours and monitor you. As long as everything stays stable, you can go home tonight.”
“Thank you,” Freya whispered.
The doctor turned to leave, then stopped. “Would you like to hear the heartbeat? Sometimes it helps, after a scare.”
Freya looked at me. Something passed between us, fear and hope and the weight of everything we’d been through to get here.
“Yes,” she said. “Please.”
The doctor adjusted the monitor, pressed a wand against Freya’s belly, and the room filled with sound.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.
Fast and rhythmic, like a tiny galloping horse. Like life itself, beating inside the woman I loved.
I had to sit down.
My knees just gave out. One second I was standing beside the bed, and the next I was in the chair, my head spinning, that impossible sound filling every corner of my consciousness.
My child. Our child. A real, living heartbeat.
“Rex?” Freya’s voice was thick with tears, but she was smiling. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” I reached for her hand again, holding on like she was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly gone liquid. “I don’t think I’ve ever been okay in my life. Not until right now.”
She was crying and laughing at the same time, tears streaming down her face while that beautiful sound filled the room. “It’s real. I’ve known for months and it’s still not real, but hearing it makes it real.”
The doctor slipped out quietly, giving us the moment. Freya pulled me up onto the bed beside her, and I held her while we listened to our child’s heartbeat, both of us crying, neither of us caring.
Eventually, the sound faded as the doctor returned to adjust the monitors. Reality crept back in. The hospital room, the IV drip, the fear that was still coiled in my chest even though the danger had passed.
“About the barn,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry I yelled.”
Freya shook her head. “You were scared.”
“I was an ass. You told me something huge and I made it about me.”
“You were allowed to be angry.”
“Maybe. But I could have handled it better.” I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’m angry that I missed all of it. That you went through this alone. But I know that’s my fault, not yours. You made the best choice you could with the information you had.”
“I should have told you sooner. Once we started dating again, once I saw you were really trying…”
“You needed time to trust me. I get it.” I met her eyes. “I’m asking you to come home. Not for me, for the baby. So you won’t be alone. So I can take care of you, make sure you’re eating and resting and not working yourself into the hospital again.”
She was quiet for a long moment.
“No.”
The word hit me like a slap. “Freya…”
“Let me finish.” She squeezed my hand. “I’m not ready to move back into our bedroom and pretend everything is fine. But you’re right that I shouldn’t be alone. Clara’s apartment is too small, and she works long hours, and I’ve been trying to do everything myself and it’s clearly not working.”
I held my breath, waiting.
“I’ll come to the ranch,” she said slowly. “For the baby. But I need boundaries, Rex. I need to know I can trust you before I can fully come back.”
“Name them. Whatever you need.”
“Separate rooms.” Her eyes searched my face. “My rules. No pressure, no pushing, no assuming we’re back together just because I’m under your roof.”
I wanted to tell her that I’d proven myself, that we’d been dating for weeks, that I’d heard our baby’s heartbeat and the thought of sleeping down the hall from her was actual torture.
But I was learning.
“Separate rooms,” I agreed. “Your rules. Whatever you need to feel safe.”
Relief flickered across her face. “Okay. Then yes. I’ll come home.”
Home. She’d called it home.
It was enough. For now, it was more than enough.