Chapter 56 - Melanie
MELANIE
It had been weeks since Sergeant Carter and Mills showed up at our house, but the unease never left me.
Every time I walked outside, every time a car slowed near the house, I felt it—that prickling sensation along the back of my neck, like I was constantly being watched.
The paranoia was justified now that I knew my father had orchestrated the whole thing.
There was no telling what he’d do, how much he’d pay, just to win.
Nick had broken it down for me—there was no way the Army Criminal Investigation Department would have jumped on our case over a single, unproven accusation of fraud.
My father had to have paid them off and greased the right palms to get them to our doorstep so quickly.
So I decided we needed to stay ahead of him.
Last Sunday, after church, Nick and I spent the day staging our perfect love story.
We hit up every romantic hotspot in town, taking pictures at each one, smiling at dinner, playing miniature golf, holding hands on the rides at Silver Dollar City.
Between stops, I changed clothes in the car so it looked like different days, different moments in time.
The next morning, I took the photos to the local grocery store and had them printed.
Some went in picture frames, others in a box, ready to be produced as evidence.
If they asked why we hadn’t shown them before, I already had an answer locked and loaded, Because you didn’t check the one room my husband and I fuck in daily.
Just the thought of saying it to their faces made me smirk.
Now, I sat perched on the edge of an examination table, wrapped in a thin hospital gown that barely covered me.
The cool paper beneath me crinkled with every shift of my weight.
Nick had insisted I come here to talk to a doctor about pregnancy and what it would mean for me as a Type 1 diabetic.
While I was here, he also wanted me checked for everything. And I meant everything.
Josh had recommended the Ozark Women’s Clinic, where he planned to do his residency next year. “Best clinic in the state,” he’d said. Luckily for me, cost wasn’t an issue because I was on Nick’s insurance.
The door swung open. A man walked in, tall and lean, with a confident stride that said he’d been doing this for years. His features were sharp, his glasses slightly askew, giving him that nerdy-but-handsome look. He barely glanced at the clipboard before his eyes settled on me.
“Melanie,” he greeted, casual but professional. “How are you doing today?”
“Fine.” My voice came out smaller than I expected.
“So, it’s my understanding you had some questions about pregnancy, and we’re here to do your first checkup?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice.
He nodded, drying his hands off on a paper towel before tossing it into the trash. “Which one do you want to start with first?”
I blinked. “First?”
“Yeah. Questions, or the Pap smear?” His tone was light, almost teasing. “Or I could do them both at the same time. Your choice. I like to give control to my patients, especially first-timers.”
Why did that sound like more than just a medical procedure? Heat crept up my neck, and I mentally cursed myself for being so immature.
“Uh, questions,” I said quickly.
“Alright.” He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Shoot.”
I took a breath. “I have Type 1 diabetes… Am I even going to be able to have my own children?”
He smiled, flashing a set of perfect teeth. “Of course, you can.”
I hesitated. “But… Steel Magnolias is the only thing that comes to mind when I think about diabetes and pregnancy.”
He chuckled. “That movie came out over thirty years ago. A lot has changed since then.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“With today’s advancements in diabetes management, women can absolutely have healthy pregnancies—with proper planning and care.
Insulin therapy, blood glucose monitoring, new technologies…
they’ve all drastically improved outcomes. ”
A wave of relief washed over me. Nick had been right—talking to a professional did help.
But still, a small knot of fear remained.
Was it my health that scared me more, or the idea of actually raising a child?
Just months ago, I had no clue what I was doing with my life.
Now I was talking about having a baby and becoming a stay-at-home mom? Was this really what I wanted?
“Any other questions?” Dr. Neilson’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“Not that I can think of.”
“If something pops into your head, just blurt it out.” He rolled his stool closer. “In the meantime, I need you to scoot back and place your feet in those stirrups so I can scrape the inner lining of your cervix.”
I stiffened. “What?”
“It won’t hurt,” he promised, reaching for his gloves.
Panic crept into my tone. “Define won’t hurt.”
His lips twitched like he was suppressing a smile. “You’re about to have a lot more of these if you do get pregnant.”
And just like that, reality hit me square in the chest.
As I stepped out of the clinic, the cool afternoon air hit me, but my phone buzzed in my purse before I could even take a breath. Probably Nick. I fished it out, answering without thinking.
“I just left, and good news—”
“Melanie, I need you. I’m freaking out.”
Abigail’s voice was sharp, panicked. My stomach clenched.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“The baby. The baby—” Her breath hitched, and the sheer terror in her voice sent a spike of adrenaline through me.
I stopped dead on the sidewalk. “Is everything okay?”
“My water broke over an hour ago. I thought it was just pee at first, but Chloe’s not due for two more weeks. I don’t know what to do. What if something’s wrong?”
I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second, forcing myself to stay calm. “Nothing is wrong. Just breathe. Remember your cousin’s baby? She was two weeks early, and everything was fine.”
Abigail let out a shaky exhale. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Where’s Colt?” I was already moving, digging in my jacket pocket for my keys.
“He left for Arizona. Some stupid photoshoot and training a new guy. He wanted to get it done before the baby came, so he figured a few days away was fine.” Her voice cracked.
“I called him, but he’s not answering. Josh is back in California.
My sister is over an hour away. I—I don’t know what to do. ”
I reached my motorcycle, yanking my helmet off the handlebars and swinging my leg over the seat. “Okay, listen. I’m coming to you right now. Do you have your hospital bag ready?”
“Yes. It’s right here,” she said, her voice slightly steadier now.
“Good. I’m calling Nick. We’ll get to you as fast as we can. Have you had any contractions?”
“No, not yet. I Googled it—if I don’t deliver in 24 hours, they might have to induce.”
“Don’t even think about that right now,” I said firmly, tightening the strap on my helmet. “Just sit down, drink some water, and breathe. We’re on our way.”
I ended the call, jammed my phone into my pocket, and fired up the engine. The roar of the bike filled my ears, drowning out the rush of anxiety in my chest. I twisted the throttle and sped off. Abigail needed me, and I wasn’t wasting a second.
“I told you,” Abigail practically snarled, her voice sharp with pain. “Didn’t I say this wasn’t a good idea?” She clutched my hand like a lifeline, her nails digging in. “And now here I am, barely holding on, waiting for you to—oh, fuck—”
Her entire body tensed, and I swore she was about to snap my fingers clean off.
“Breathe, breathe,” I urged, trying to keep my voice steady. She sucked in air and exhaled in quick bursts, her version of Lamaze breathing.
“Fuck. Shit. Fuck balls.” Abigail’s voice wavered through the contraction, her face twisted in agony.
“I’m literally on the plane right now,” Colt’s voice crackled through the phone.
“Tell the damn pilot to gun it! The second I get the go-ahead for the epidural, I’m taking it. And if he tells me to start pushing, then I’m pushing, so you better get here fast Colt, or I swear to God—”
I winced, unsure if she was squeezing my hand out of rage or because another contraction was hitting.
“I’ll be there. I promise. Have I ever let you down?”
Abigail’s glare could’ve burned a hole through steel. “Really? You’re gonna ask me that right now?”
“Okay, bad question,” Colt rushed out. “I’m sorry. Sorry, Chloe.” His voice softened. “Hold on, baby-girl. I’m coming.”
“Aww, that’s sweet,” I started, hoping to lighten the mood.
Abigail snapped her head toward me, eyes dark with fury. I swallowed hard. Holy shit, she looked terrifying. If Colt didn’t make it in time, I had no doubt she’d find a way to murder him—or at least permanently maim him.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Just trying to stay positive.”
The door swung open, and Dr. Nielsen strode in, his usual calm, borderline-too-relaxed energy filling the room.
“Mrs. Killian, how are we doing?” He pulled up a stool between Abigail’s legs, glancing over the monitors. “Didn’t I tell you it was too soon for you to be having a baby?” He smirked.
“Can I have the damn epidural yet?” Abigail ground out, her forehead glistening with sweat.
“You can, but you’re only at a two. We usually like to wait until a four or five, which is ideal since that’s when active labor really kicks in.”
Abigail groaned and flopped her head back against the pillow. “Jesus. Why did Eve eat that dam apple?”
“How soon do you think she’ll get there?” I asked Dr. Nielsen, hoping for some kind of reassurance.
“There’s no telling,” he admitted. “We can give you the epidural if you really want it, but it may wear off before it’s time to push.”
Abigail let out a shaky breath. “Fuck. I’ve dealt with pain my whole life—what’s a few more hours?”