“It’s too early to tell. You will not likely see a heartbeat on an ultrasound until six weeks in,” says the nurse with a kind smile. “But if you have any bleeding of sorts, let us know.”
“Okay,” I croak out as she leaves.
“The baby will be okay, Francine,” says Carmen as she gives me another sip. Despite everything, a warmth spreads through my chest that has nothing to do with the soup. My sisters are here. They’re looking out for me.
There’s a small comfort in knowing I’m not facing it completely alone. I close my eyes, surrendering once more to a deep sleep.
Days blur in a haze of pain medication, fitful sleep, and the steady rhythm of machines monitoring my broken body. The bruises bloom across my skin like dark flowers, purples deepening to blues, then fading to sickly yellows and greens around the edges. I grow stronger in small increments. I’m able to shift slightly without gasping in pain, then to turn my head more freely after they adjust my neck brace, and finally to whisper full sentences without my ribs screaming in protest. Through it all, the alphas maintain their vigil, a rotation of worried faces and gentle touches that both comforts and confuses me.
But it’s Kieran who never leaves. While Drake, Rowan, and Elias take turns going home to shower, change clothes, or check on Nora, Kieran remains like a sentinel at the foot of my bed.
He sleeps upright in that uncomfortable plastic chair, his tall frame awkwardly folded into a space too small to contain him. Sometimes when I wake in the night, I catch him watching me, his eyes reflecting the dim light like a predator’s in the darkness.
By the fifth morning, I’m strong enough to sit up with the help of the adjustable bed. The doctors have removed the rigid neck brace and replaced it with a softer collar that allows greater movement. My arms remain encased in their casts, but the pain has dulled to a manageable ache unless I move too suddenly.
This morning, it’s just Kieran and me in the room.
The early sunlight streams through the blinds, casting stripes across his exhausted face. There are shadows under his eyes, and his stubble has grown into the beginnings of a beard. He looks nothing like the polished, controlled alpha who fired me from his home.
“You don’t need to be here the whole time,” I whisper, my voice stronger now but still rough around the edges. “You should take a break. Go home. Shower. See Nora.”
His eyes meet mine, and I see raw vulnerability I’ve never seen in him before.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says simply. Then, softer. “Unless you want me to leave.”
The question hangs between us, heavy with meaning.Do I want him to leave?Part of me does. My feelings are still raw from his rejection. But another part, a traitorously weak part, finds comfort in his constant presence.
“It’s not about what I want,” I say carefully. “You need to take care of yourself.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving mine.
“Francine,” he begins, and then pauses, as if struggling to find the right words. “I need to tell you something, and I need you to really hear me.”
My heart beats faster, the monitor beside me betraying my body’s response to the intensity of his gaze.
“I love you.”
I freeze, at a complete loss for words. I’m waiting for him to say ‘just kidding’ or something like that.
“I love you,” he repeats. “I made the biggest mistake of my life when I sent you away. I let my pain blind me. I couldn’t see past what your mother did. You are nothing like her. I’m so sorry.”
I feel a strange numbness spreading through my chest. He’s apologizing just like I’ve been wishing for. But ever since he rejected me, something broke inside of me.
I’m saved from replying to him by the door swinging open as Drake and Elias walk in, both carrying cups of coffee.
“Morning, sunshine,” Drake says, his smile brightening the sterile room as he sees me sitting up. “Look at you! Practically ready to run a marathon.”
Elias rolls his eyes at Drake’s exuberance but offers me a gentle smile. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better,” I reply, grateful for the interruption while my heart is still beating a mile a minute from Kieran’s apology. “Where’s Rowan?”
“He’s at home with Nora,” Elias explains, handing one of the coffee cups to Kieran, who accepts it with a nod. “She had a lot of questions about when you’re coming back. We told her you had an accident and needed time to heal.”
My heart twists at the mention of Nora. I miss the little girl. But the mention of returning sends a ripple of anxiety through me.
Coming back where? To their home? As what? They can’t possibly expect things to return to how they were before.
And then there’s the secret of the positive pregnancy test that feels like a time bomb ticking inside me. What if they’ll only want me back because of the baby?
