11. Chapter Eleven #2
Caroline waited, then felt a nudge. “Yes.”
He shut his eyes for half a second. “All right.”
The emergency department was crowded enough that every chair seemed occupied. Harsh light showed scuffs on the floor and worn patches on the seats. A child cried near the vending machines.
Hayden took in the room with one hard look.
Caroline waited for him to demand a private space or announce that the conditions weren’t acceptable. Instead, he found a wheelchair, helped her into it, and pushed her to the desk.
“She’s pregnant and fell onto her hip,” he told the nurse. “Her ankle is swelling, and she can’t put weight on it. The baby’s moving, and there’s no bleeding or stomach pain.”
He sounded capable. Steady. Caroline relaxed somewhat, knowing that she could let him take over.
The nurse looked at Caroline. “Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“How far along are you?”
Caroline answered, and the nurse began asking the rest of the questions. Hayden fell silent. He stayed beside her but let Caroline speak for herself.
They waited after the first check. Hayden found a second chair for her foot and brought her water. His gaze kept dropping to her stomach or ankle.
“You can stop watching me,” she said.
“I don’t think I can,” he retorted.
“You’re making me nervous.”
“I’m already nervous enough for both of us.”
His honesty took the sharp edge off her irritation.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He turned toward her. “For what?”
“Dragging you into this. Mom said you could get there faster.”
“You didn’t drag me anywhere.”
“You were probably working.”
“Caroline.” His voice stayed quiet. “You fell. Our daughter needed to be checked. You have nothing to apologize for.”
She looked down at her hands.
“Nothing,” he repeated.
Beyond the double doors, curtains separated narrow treatment areas. Hayden stood close while a clinician checked Caroline’s stomach and listened to the baby’s heartbeat.
Caroline’s eyes burned.
“That sounds reassuring,” the clinician said. “We’ll keep checking, but everything you’ve told me and what we’re seeing now looks good.”
Caroline nodded. Her hand moved before she thought about it.
Hayden caught it. His fingers closed around hers with the same sure warmth she remembered from every frightening moment of her pregnancy. When his thumb moved across the back of her hand, it paused at the bare place on her ring finger. Caroline felt the pause as clearly as a spoken word.
Hayden didn’t look at her hand. He didn’t mention the rings she’d left on the dresser in Southampton. His thumb continued its slow path, and his grip stayed steady.
She should’ve let go after the confirmed heartbeat settled her fear. She didn’t.
The ankle examination hurt, but the clinician found no sign that it was broken.
It was a sprain, already swelling and likely to ache more before it improved.
Caroline received simple instructions for protecting it, keeping it raised, and returning if the pain or swelling became worse.
The pregnancy checks gave them no reason to keep her in the hospital.
“You and the baby can go home,” the clinician said. “Rest, and don’t put weight on that ankle until you can do so comfortably.”
A nurse fitted Caroline with crutches and showed her how to use them without putting weight on her right foot. Her stomach changed her balance enough to make the first few steps awkward, but she managed with Hayden close beside her.
Relief left Caroline weak. By the time Hayden pushed her wheelchair toward the exit with the crutches resting across her lap, she was hungry, tired, and aware of every pulse in her ankle.
She texted her mother before they reached the car.
Caroline: Sprain. Baby is fine. Going home now. Don’t leave work.
Her mother answered at once.
Mom: Thank God. I’m coming as soon as I can.
Hayden drove them back without filling the car with questions. He asked if she was comfortable, then let the quiet remain.
Getting back to the bedroom took less effort with the crutches taking the strain off her ankle and Hayden close beside her.
He propped them within reach, moved the unfinished side of the crib away from the bed, stacked the loose panels against the wall, and gathered every screw into the small plastic tray.
Then he cleared the cardboard from the path to the door.
Caroline lowered herself onto the bed. Hayden arranged two pillows under her ankle, adjusting them until the sore joint no longer pulled.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He set her water on the dresser and placed her phone beside it, within easy reach.
Then he drew the blanket over her legs without covering the swollen ankle.
His care was so familiar that it hurt. This was the man she’d trusted to stand next to her through everything.
For a few hours, fear had let her reach for him as if that trust had never broken.
Now they were back in the crowded bedroom, with an unfinished crib against the wall and their marriage still ending between them.
“Thank you,” she said.
Hayden looked at her. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do. You came quickly, you stayed calm, and you made sure she was okay.” Caroline rested her hand over their daughter. “I’m grateful.”
Something warm and wounded crossed his face. “I’m glad you called me.”
“Mom called you.”
“You told me to hurry.”
Caroline looked down. “I was scared.”
“You can call me when you’re scared.”
The words held no demand. That made them harder to refuse.
She pulled the blanket higher over her stomach. “Mom and Jemma will be home soon.”
“All right.”
“You’ve already done enough.”
He said nothing.
Caroline made herself meet his eyes. “You can leave now.”
She expected him to ask about the diner, about the divorce, about whether holding his hand had changed anything.
Hayden looked at her for a long moment.
“You must eat something first.”