My head feels foggy, heavy.
Fuck, I don’t feel right.
“Mason.”
My head connects with something hard, liquid rolling down my temple.
What’s wrong with my hands?
A rush of cold surges through my chest and spreads through my torso.
“I don’t fucking feel right.”
Darkness takes me.
36
Nina
I’m four months pregnant.
Four months.
I stare at the image in my hand, stare at the perfect life that is preparing itself for what? A perfect mother? A family? This isn’t how I wanted it to go.
The nurse told me the bleeding I experienced after the crash was most likely from the trauma and stress of the accident, but assured me the baby is healthy and that there was no need to be concerned.
Guilt fills me. The guilt that I missed it. The guilt for what I have put my body through these past few months. And the guilt to the life that I now have to guide when I have no clear path for us to go down.
The nurse told me they want to monitor me for the next forty-eight hours after I fainted, but I don’t want to leave. If I leave, I have to go to Lucy and Megan’s, and they are already fussing. Lucy is asleep in the corner, refusing to leave my side for a second, and I know the rest of them are in the corridor. I heard Elliot’s voice booming in the early hours, demanding he be let in. They eventually settled down, but it didn’t matter anyway because I haven’t slept a wink.
Mason isn’t here.
He hasn’t been here all night.
I hear a loud bang and then shouting outside the door, and I look across at Lucy as I jump but she doesn’t flinch. I close my eyes.
I don’t want to see him.
Gripping the sheet spread over me, I pull it tight, my throat burning as I prepare myself.
How do I do this?
The door flies open, and he falls through the door, the nurse and Megan at his back. “Nina.”
“You cannot be in here; she needs to rest,” the nurse tells him sternly.
I catch his frown, but as he brings his eyes back to me, I dip my head. It hurts too much to look at him.
He doesn’t deserve anything from me, but he needs to know about the baby. It’s not my reality to withhold.
“He can stay,” I tell the nurse, surprising myself when my voice doesn’t waver.
The nurse moves toward me, checking my blood pressure.
Lucy stirs, lifting her head from her shoulder. She sits up and spots Mason. Her posture stiffens. “You!” She is on her feet and over to him before I can speak. Her hand connects with his cheek with a solid whack.
“What the fuck!” he roars.
