The Rhythm of Life
The curtains in the triage room were drawn, creating a small, quiet island in the middle of the ER's chaos.
Aubrey was propped up on the bed, her knees bandaged where the gravel had chewed through her leggings.
She looked small against the white sheets, her face still pale, but she was holding my hand with a grip that could have crushed a lug nut.
"Pulse is steady, blood pressure is coming down," the nurse said, giving Aubrey a reassuring smile. "The doctor will be in with the portable ultrasound in just a second. Hang in there, honey."
"She's kicking," Aubrey whispered the second the nurse stepped out. She looked at me, her brown eyes wide and pleading. "Nick, she hasn't stopped. Is that bad? Is she stressed?"
"She's a fighter, Aubrey," I said, leaning over the bed to kiss her forehead. I kept my hand over the swell of her stomach, waiting. "She's just letting us know she's still the boss."
The door pushed open and Dr. Aris walked in, wheeling the ultrasound monitor. He'd been the one to see Aubrey after the pharmacy incident, and he didn't waste any time with small talk. He saw the tension in my shoulders and the way Aubrey was holding her breath.
"Alright, let's take a listen to our little troublemaker," he said, squirted the warm gel onto Aubrey's skin.
The room went silent as he pressed the transducer down. At first, there was only the static hum of the machine, and my heart stopped. I looked at the monitor, my lungs burning, waiting for the one thing that mattered.
Then, it filled the room.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
It was fast, strong, and as steady as a drumbeat.
Aubrey let out a sob of pure relief, her head falling back against the pillow. I felt the air finally rush back into my chest, a ragged, broken breath that I couldn't control.
"155 beats per minute," Dr. Aris said, turning the screen so we could see. "She's perfectly fine. Plenty of fluid, placenta looks undisturbed, and she's active. Very active."
As if to prove his point, a tiny, blurred image of a foot arched on the screen, followed by a jolt that I felt against the palm of my hand.
"There she goes," I rasped, a watery laugh escaping me.
"She's got your timing, Nick," the doctor teased, printing out a fresh strip of images.
"She knows when her parents need a sign.
Aubrey, the scrapes on your knees are superficial.
I want you to take it easy for the next forty-eight hours—lots of water, feet up.
But as far as the baby goes, she's passed the test with flying colors. "
When the doctor left to finalize the discharge papers, I didn't move. I stayed right there, tucked into the side of the bed, my face inches from Aubrey's.
"He's never getting near her," I promised, my voice a low, gravelly vow.
"I don't care how many lawyers he hires.
After tonight, Anthony has enough to keep him behind bars for a long time.
Stalking a pregnant woman? Attacking her at her workplace?
No judge in the state is going to give him a minute of custody. "
"I was so scared, Nick," she whispered, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck. "Not of him... but of losing this. Of losing the peace we finally found."
"The peace is still here," I said, leaning down to press a kiss to her stomach, then her lips. "He's a ghost, Aubrey. He tried to haunt us, but ghosts don't have power over the living. We're the ones with the heartbeat. We're the ones with the home."
I helped her get dressed, moving slow and careful as I helped her into her shoes. When we walked out of the ER, Anthony was waiting in the hallway. He looked tired, his uniform shirt wrinkled, but when he saw us, he stood up straight.
"He's processed," Anthony said, his voice flat and professional. "Bail was denied based on the prior restraining order and the fact that he's a flight risk to the city. He's spending the night—and likely the next few weeks—in the county lockup."
"Good," I said, not even wanting to hear the man's name.
"I'm staying at the cottage tonight," Anthony added, looking at Aubrey. "I'll be on the porch. Nobody is coming up that driveway tonight but the wind."
"Thanks, Ant," Aubrey murmured.
We drove home through the dark, the mountains standing like silent sentinels on either side of the road. When we pulled into our driveway, I didn't let her walk. I scooped her up in my arms, carrying her over the threshold and straight to our bed.
As I laid her down and climbed in beside her, pulling the quilt up over both of us, I felt that kick again—a solid, stubborn reminder of the life we were protecting.
Brandon was in a cage. Chloe was a memory. And here, in the quiet of the Harrison house, the only sound was the steady, rhythmic heartbeat of a daughter who already knew she was home.