“Yes, because I think it’s fucked up that you’re acting like this over a fall when you told me you didn’t have time for me in Seattle,” I snap in frustration, and Keeva stiffens like stone. “Don’t forget why I started ignoring you- you cannae sit there and act like you don’t deserve it, Keeva.”
“That’s not what happened, and you know it,” Keeva stands up with a grimace, her face turning beet red. “I’m going to the vending machine.”
“Aye, you walk away, just like you did back then,” I snipe the last word, and Keeva pauses at the door before storming through it. My eyes sting, and I breathe shallow, hot breaths as I clutch the blanket in trembling fists. “Fuck. . . I cannae fucking believe it.”
“Knock, knock?” The tentative voice reaches me weakly, and I look up as Baron hangs in the open doorway. He smiles, his face tight and pensive, his eyes shining brightly. My heart throbs, and I wince as pain flares up my left side. Baron’s breath hitches loudly, sharply, and I sniffle before gesturing him in.
“Shut the door,” I say, holding my palm to my side tenderly. Gingerly sitting up, I lick my lips heavily and pat the spot on the edge of my hospital bed. Baron stays where he is, his back against the door, ready to run at my slightest inclination. “Baron. . . come sit down so we can talk.”
“I want to explain,” He croaks, the pain in his eyes telling me more than his words ever could. I hold my breath and nod. “I didn’t know you were one of Hans’ victims, Delaney. I didn’t put it together until my mother sent me to Seattle to meet with your brother, Eamon, and he mentioned you. That you were in London with your brother, and you’d ignored him and Keeva. . . it was enough detail for me to realize it was you. I raced back. I got here three hours before you did that Friday night. I didn’t sleep; I was so worried about telling you that Petra Frey was my mom. I changed my name, got British citizenship, lost my German accent, and there honestly wasn’t much more I could do to distance myself from her. I was horrified, but more- more than anything, I was terrified.”
“I was the one that was supposed to go to Seattle at the beginning of the year. Not Hans. He wasn’t supposed to be there. If I’d. . . if I had just accepted it rather than focus on running away from my mother, you wouldn’t have been attacked,” Baron doesn’t even stop to breathe, and he doesn’t give me a moment to form a thought before trudging on. His voice is hoarse, his face reddening as he wipes his nose with the cuff of his sleeve. “I will never, ever forgive myself, Delaney, but how- how was I supposed to tell you when I didn’t know what the fuck was going on? Switzerland? I didn’t know if something happened on your day off, or maybe I did something? You came back, and before I can even say ‘hi’, you tell me you’re pregnant.”
“What the fuck was I supposed to say? ‘Wow! It’s an unplanned pregnancy with your boss who also, by the way, happens to be the brother of the man who raped you and the son of the woman who wants to kill you’.”
“Baron!” I stop him, shouting loud enough to make Baron jump and gasp for air. He blinks, rubbing his eyes with trembling fists before slumping against the door heavily. My eyes sting, and I inhale a ragged breath through my nose. The silence rings in my ears, but all I feel. . . is relief. Baron is so, so very obviously in a panic, so regretful, so pained. Tears stream down his face, leaving raw ruts deep in his cheeks as he desperately tries to keep himself from falling apart in front of me. “Baron. . . I know. I know. Come over here.”
How many times had Baron held out his hand for me? But this time, I’m the one outstretched and waiting, and he chokes a sob before stumbling towards me. Falling to his knees on the side of the bed, Baron buries his face against my thigh and grips my hands tightly. My heart breaks for him, carrying this around for God even knows how long? How many days? I stroke his hair tenderly as my own tears fall and emotion grips me in its painful, hot clutches.
“I’m sorry, Baron,” I whisper, pulling his knuckles to my lips as his breath hitches. He glances up at me through red-rimmed eyes, and my mouth dries while I struggle to form a thought, let alone words. “I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t tell me about your mother sooner. I’m sorry for this whole, big mess, because it’s not just your fault, Baron. You don’t have to shoulder the blame alone- no, you shouldn’t. You won’t. We’ll do it. . . together. Just like you said, aye? As long as I have you?”
“I thought that was about the hotel,” Baron mutters gravelly, his voice a weak rasp, and he rests his cheek on my thigh. Even through the crappy hospital blanket and sheet, I can feel his heat and eventually the dampness of his tears. Closing his eyes, he sniffles slightly. “Yeah? As long as I have you. . . we can do this, Delaney.”
“Will you sit on the bed now?” I ask gently, and Baron rubs his face roughly before climbing to his feet. He sits, glancing over his shoulder before looking at me questioningly. Holding his hands in my lap, I shake my head. “They don’t know. I don’t want to tell them. Keeva thinks I just tripped over the bench by accident, and Bran. . . Well, he asked if it was okay to speak with you about it on the way here.”
“We talked, yes,” Baron croaks, and I grab my water off the tray table to hold it out for him. He smiles weakly, taking it to pop the top and take big gulps of water and ice chips. “I told him everything I just told you, so. . . Bran has the whole story from all sides, I suppose. He’s a surprisingly good listener, and. . . well, I truly expected him to disapprove of some of the things I couldn’t hold back. About my mother. About wanting to hurt her.”
“How’d you manage that?” I ask in surprise, and Baron’s expression darkens. The raw, fiery redness in his cheeks dulls a shade or two. My heart stutters, and I hold my breath in anticipation.
“I want to call Desmond Mackenzie and tell him where she it, knowing she’d be in danger. And I would do it on speaker so she can hear me. So she’ll believe how serious I am about how fucking done I am with her shit. It seems. . . like Desmond is someone my mom genuinely and greatly fears. She gets nervous whenever I threatened her when she got- got too. . . too controlling or nasty. If I called him, he’d have people there to grab her and put her in some God forsaken hole. I gave her a choice,” He pauses, a slight flash of shame in his eyes when they meet mine. “I wanted to be. . . very. . . physically forceful with her. I wanted to threaten her with every ounce of hatred and disgust I could muster. I wanted to see her be afraid and. . . I realized what I was fantasizing about. About knowingly putting someone, even someone like Petra Frey, in danger. . . and enjoying it. I realized I don’t want to be even the faintest vestige of the kind of man Hans was. I would’ve enjoyed- no, I think the right word is satisfied. I would’ve been satisfied giving my mother over to Desmond.”
“But you sent her away unharmed,” I say, and Baron nods dully, his head drooping as the war in him leaves him exhausted and spent. Smiling warmly, I pull him to me, and he crumples to lay down between my legs awkwardly. “I’m proud of you, Baron. I’m so, so proud of you for being the man I know you are.”
“Has the doctor been in yet?” Baron changes the subject; I can tell from his voice that he’s feeling better. It’s amazing, truly, how the things we crave are so easy to give. Threading my fingers through his hair, I shake my head.
“The ER doctor came in. He ordered x-rays, but he’s confident that I only bruised a few ribs and cracked my lowest one. The obstetrician should be here soon. She’s bringing an ultrasound machine,” I say, and Baron lifts his head sharply. His eyes find mine to narrow under tightly knit brows. “I’m only 9 weeks along or somewhere, Baron. There’s nothing in there that even remotely resembles a baby. But we’ll have some pictures.”
“I bet it’ll have your cell shape,” Baron grumbles, and I bark a shocked laugh. The sudden jolt makes me wince, and I hiss as fire races up my left side. Sniffling harshly, I nod as Baron sits up to fold his legs. “But it’ll have my cell density.”
Snorting harshly, I clutch my side as it splits from my laughter. I feel lighter, and Baron even cracks a small smile. A soft knock on the door interrupts us, and he climbs off the bed to open the barrier. It’s not my sister. Relief slumps my shoulders and steals my breath.
“Hello, hello. Delaney Gallagher? I’m Doctor Morris. I hear you took quite a tumble,” She starts before Baron shuts the door behind us. Wheeling a device to the side of my bed, she smiles brightly at me. “So, I understand you’re wanting to keep this under wraps? Are you worried about the fall causing any problems?”
“Yes,” I answer quickly with a nod. “I mean, isn’t the first trimester the most common time t- to have an. . . accident?”
“Well, yes, but I had a peek at your medical file, and your general practitioner didn’t note anything of concern with your history. If something was wrong, there’d usually be certain precursors,” Morris assures me, and I nod again. Baron comes up on my other side as she turns to the machine. “Since you’re so early, we’re going to use a vaginal wand to get the best view of the little bean. Is that alright with you? If you’re not comfortable, we can try to use a dermal wand, but getting a clear picture will be difficult.”
“I want a good picture, um- but first, can you cover the window?” I ask, pointing at the thin slit in the door. Morris nods, walking over to pull down on a flap hanging off the back of the door. “Thanks. I just don’t want my sister and brothers finding out about this yet. I want to enjoy it by myself a little longer.”
“You’d be surprised how common that desire is. If you’d like to get started, you can roll down the blanket and pull up the sheet,” She smiles warmly, invitingly, as I take a deep breath and hold it. Baron pulls down the thin blanket, and I bunch up the sheet around my waist before laying back. Holding my hand, Baron and I wait anxiously as Morris slathers gel onto a long rod. I turn my head away, closing my eyes when she carefully pushes my knee out. “Feet together, please?”
“Oh.” I gasp when the warm gel touches me, and I grapple Baron’s shirt. He grips my wrist soothingly, and I try not to tense at the uncomfortable pressure.
“You’re doing good, Delaney. Just a little more,” Morris mumbles comfortingly, and I pant harshly in an effort to ease the stiffness in my body. The wand stops, a firm but gentle pressure against my insides, and I bluster a hard sigh. “There it is. There’s your baby, you guys. It looks like you’re right about the timeline. Judging by the size, you’re approximately ten weeks along, Delaney. It’s about the size of a prune.”
“I ca- can’t. . . t- take the pictures.” I grind out through clenched teeth. Beyond the blood drumming in my ears, I can hear a faint clicking sound.
“That’s perfectly okay. I’m going to take out the wand now, so try to relax as much as you can, Delaney,” Morris says, and I gasp when the pressure suddenly eases and the fullness in me disappears. “I know it’s uncomfortable, but you’ve got some crystal clear pictures now. You can cover up while these print. Do you need more water?”
