Chapter 21
The collar comes off first, a relief so profound I almost weep. Then the backboard, sliding out from beneath me with gentle efficiency, leaving me finally able to shift my hips. To feel like a human being again instead of a specimen pinned for examination.
I never realized how much I take for granted the simple act of moving until it’s ripped away from me. Hearing the news I’m pregnant—something I still can’t fathom—and being unable to do anything except stare at what’s above me was unbearable.
Dr. Winter finishes her neurological exam, asking me to follow her finger with my eyes, squeeze her hands, wiggle my toes. I answer her questions mechanically, my mind already drifting elsewhere.
August. That was the last time Mark and I were together. About a week before we broke up.
I count backward in my head, my fingers curling into the thin hospital blanket. That makes it almost five months. About eighteen weeks if I’m right.
How have I not known? How have I missed the signs?
It’s normal for me to miss periods, but five months’ worth?
I can’t say I even realized it had been that long, but if I did, I probably would’ve blamed it on the stress, just like I have the fatigue and the nausea.
Everyone’s pointed out just how much I’ve been working, how little time I’ve taken for myself over the last few years.
All my attention has been on the inn, on rebuilding my house and the cottage, on my family. I never took the time to notice how out of sync everything had become.
“Considering your fall, everything looks good. Your CT scan came back clear,” Dr. Winters says, making a note on her tablet before meeting my eyes.
“With the concussion we’re going to keep you for observation, but I don’t see any red flags.
OB should be down within the hour for an ultrasound, and then we’ll work on getting you a room. ”
She squeezes my shoulder once and offers Beckett a brief nod before slipping out of the room, leaving us alone with the weight of so many unknowns around us.
The silence stretches, thin and fragile. My throat is tight and my eyes burn with tears I refuse to let fall. Not here. Not now.
I can’t look at him or speak. I don’t have the words.
“Madison.” His voice is gentle, careful in a way that makes my chest ache.
“I’m sorry.” The words come out raw and broken, but I force myself to meet his eyes. The bright blue ones that look at me like I’m something precious. Someone worth knowing.
He pulls the stool a nurse brought him closer to the bed and takes a seat, studying my face with an intensity that makes me want to squirm.
“Beckett, I’m so sorry,” I blurt. “I had no idea. I swear to you, if I’d known I would have told you.” My eyes fall shut and I shake my head, unable to look at him. “I wouldn’t have started anything with you if I’d known.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and it’s not until I feel his fingers brush my temple that I finally open my eyes again. He shifts closer to the bed, close enough his knees brush against the rail, and takes my hand in both of his.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“But I—”
“Madison.” He squeezes my fingers, his thumb tracing slow circles across my knuckles.
“We haven’t known each other long, there’s still so much to learn.
” A wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“It’d be crazy for either of us to think the other didn’t have a life before we met.
Entire lives, with years of history and complications and…
” His eyes fall to my stomach before coming back to mine. “Babies, apparently.”
I laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” he teases and his eyes soften, something tender moving through his expression. “Maybe not the situation, but the timing sure is. The universe clearly has a sense of humor where we’re concerned.”
I want to lean into him, to let him wrap me in his arms and pretend, just for a moment, that this isn’t happening. But as he draws closer to me, I know I have to pull away. Some instinct for self-preservation rearing its head.
This is too much. I’m too much. My life is a tangled mess of running a business I don’t have total control over and family obligations I won’t turn away from. And now, somehow, a pregnancy I’ve been too busy to see.
How can I ask anyone to tackle all that? Let alone someone who’s trying to figure out what they want to do with their future.
Beckett deserves someone without this kind of baggage. Someone who could meet him as an equal, not as a woman stuck where she is—even more now than she was before.
“Beckett, I don’t think—”
“Don’t,” he cuts me off, his voice firm but not unkind. “Don’t pull away from me now. Not when we’re just starting to explore this thing between us.”
“Beckett,” I plead, hearing the desperation in my voice. “There’s nothing to explore. Not now. I’m pregnant. By a man I haven’t seen or spoken to in almost five months. That’s not a complication, that’s a…” My words trail off, having no idea how to describe the situation I’m in.
“It’s a curveball,” Beckett finishes for me, leaning forward. “I’ve had plenty of those, and I’m not afraid of another. The question isn’t what life throws at us. It’s whether we let it knock us down or we figure out how to keep moving forward.”
“And what does moving forward look like to you?” I challenge. “Because I don’t see how I ask you to fit into this picture. I don’t see how I could ask anyone to fit into this picture.”
Beckett opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything, the curtain opens and Aiden slips through, his face etched with worry.
“Hey.” He crosses to the bed in three long strides, his eyes scanning me quickly before he presses a kiss to my forehead. “You’re out of the collar.”
“I am. Just a few bruised ribs and a concussion. They’re keeping me overnight for observation, but no red flags.”
Aiden’s gaze sharpens, his eyes flicking between Beckett and me before resting squarely on my face. I’ve never been a good liar with anyone, but Aiden is like a human lie detector. “Everything else okay?”
I’m saved from answering by the curtain moving once more, this time by a man in a pair of dark blue scrubs. “Madison Hawthorne?”
At my nod the man steps forward, wheeling what I assume is a portable ultrasound machine behind him.
“I’m Doctor Dupont from OB. I’m just gonna do an ultrasound to make sure you and baby are okay.”
Aiden’s head snaps toward me, confusion clouding his features. “Baby?”
The blood drains from my face. I’ve been so focused on the shock of the news and the fact that Beckett was here that I hadn’t considered how I’d tackle telling anyone else.
Regardless of everything, Mark should have been the first person to hear the news, but the number of people who know before him grows as does my guilt for all of it.
Aiden’s eyes move to Beckett, searching for an explanation, but Beckett doesn’t have one. His eyes come to me, his expression carefully neutral as he squeezes my hand, letting me know he’ll support whatever decision I make.
The doctor reads the room, his gaze sweeping across the two men flanking my bed and jumps into action, saving me once more from a difficult conversation. “I think it’s a little crowded in here. Why don’t the two of you wait in the hall?”
Aiden’s focus shifts around the room, his gaze calculating before he turns to me. He’s spent enough time in difficult situations to know when to push and when to give in. He leans down, pressing a kiss to my cheek.
“We’ll talk later,” he murmurs low enough only I can hear. “I’ll step out, Beckett can stay.”
He’s gone before anyone can protest, the curtain sliding shut behind him.
Dr. Dupont looks at me, one eyebrow raised in question. “Do you want dad to step out as well?”
“Oh, he’s not—”
“I’m not—”
Beckett and I start at the same time. My grip tightens around his hand as my eyes meet his and my stomach clenches at the words that slip free. “He stays.”
“All right.” Dr. Dupont nods, his expression softening slightly.
As he prepares the ultrasound equipment, I feel the weight of what I’ve just done settle over me like a ton of bricks. I’ve asked Beckett to stay. To witness this—the first time I’ll see or hear the heartbeat of my child, a child created with another man.
It’s wrong. Every instinct is screaming that it’s wrong to lean on him like this.
To take comfort from him when I have nothing to offer in return.
But Beckett’s hand is warm in mine, his thumb tracing soothing patterns across my knuckles, and when I look at him there’s no judgment in his eyes. Only patience and understanding.
I’ve never experienced this before—this sense of truly being seen and supported. It terrifies me almost as much as the pregnancy itself.
“Do you know the first day of your last period?” Dr. Dupont asks, draping a protective sheet over my lower half.
“Um…” I swallow, keeping my attention on the doctor and not on the man on my other side. “I don’t know. I haven’t—I haven’t been with anyone since early August.”
The doctor’s eyes widen slightly at the news, but he pivots quickly, his eyes falling to the tablet in his hand. “And you didn’t know you were pregnant before today?”
“Correct.”
He scrolls for a second before looking back at me. “Are you on birth control?”
“I was getting the shot, but I stopped when my boyfriend and I broke up over the summer.”
The doctor nods, understanding crossing his features. “Well, considering how far along you are, we won’t need to do the transvaginal ultrasound like I assumed.”
He turns back to the machine, and I finally let my gaze shift back to Beckett.
He hasn’t moved or said anything, his thumb still gently soothing circles on the back of my hand.
There’s still no judgment in his eyes as he looks at me, and I don’t know how he’s still sitting there, but I’m grateful for it all the same.
“I’m gonna have you lie back,” Dr. Dupont says, lowering the head of the bed. “And I’ll have you lift your gown so I can reach your lower abdomen.”
I obey, pulling the gown up to just under my breasts, my lower half still covered by the hospital blanket. The cool air of the room tickles my exposed skin and a shiver runs up my spine.
I don’t even have a moment to adjust before Dr. Dupont squeezes gel onto my skin, making me gasp at the shock of cold.
But then the wand is moving, pressing gently against my lower abdomen.
The room is quiet for only a moment before the sound of a heartbeat fills the space.
It’s fast and strong and impossibly real.
“There we are,” Dr. Dupont says, his voice filled with warmth as he turns the screen for me to see.
There’s no need for the doctor to point out anything on the screen. The image of a baby is as clear as can be. The head, the arms, the hands, the legs, the feet. It’s all right there, easy to identify.
Beckett’s grip on my hand tightens, and I turn to find him watching the monitor with an expression I can’t quite read. There’s wonder, but maybe sorrow too. Or something in between the two.
“Everything looks good,” Dr. Dupont announces, pulling my attention back to him.
“Strong heartbeat, good movement. No signs of trauma from the fall.” His gaze meets mine and he offers a comforting smile before looking back at the screen.
“Based on the measurements I’d say you’re on track for about eighteen weeks. Do you want to know the sex?”
I open my mouth to say no. I’ve always said if I ever got pregnant I wanted the sex to be a surprise. But considering the pregnancy itself was a surprise and I’m almost five months along, I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Tell me.”
Dr. Dupont shifts the wand a bit, studying the screen, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight. From the small life I’ve been carrying without knowing. Something shifts in my chest. It’s terrifying and exhilarating, but I know it’s love all the same.
“You’re having a boy.”
The words hang in the air, heavy with a meaning I can’t yet comprehend.
A boy. I’m having a son.
My eyes stay glued to the screen watching as the baby shifts, and I swear I can feel him.
Dr. Dupont presses a few buttons on the machine and then lifts the wand from my stomach before wiping the gel away.
His movements are practiced and efficient.
“I’ll print a few copies for you. Given the fall and the concussion, I’d like you to take it easy for the next few days—no strenuous activity and plenty of rest. But the baby is healthy, Ms. Hawthorne. ”
I nod, not entirely focused on what the doctor is saying, my attention still stuck on the image of my son frozen on the screen.
“You’ll need to find an OB and get an appointment scheduled as soon as possible. Everything looks good,” he rushes to say at my raised eyebrows. “You just want to make sure you’ve got someone on your team you’re comfortable with and who’s there to answer all the questions you’re going to have.”
I nod in acknowledgement and with a soft beep of the machine the image of my baby disappears from sight.
The doctor wheels the cart away, leaving me with a photo in my hand—my son, captured in black and white, already more real than anything I could ever imagine.
Beckett doesn’t speak. He simply sits beside me, his hand still clasped around mine. His presence a steady anchor in the storm of my thoughts.
I should send him away. Tell him that whatever this is between us can’t continue. That there’s so much for me to figure out, to prepare for. Too many responsibilities already without adding a new relationship built on sand and wishful thinking.
But none of that comes out. Instead, I ask him to stay, just a little bit longer.
And he doesn’t hesitate to say yes.