“Can we sit?” Blair asks gently.
“Sure. Yeah. Sit.”
We all settle—me back on the couch, them in the chairsacross from me. The silence stretches out for what feels like forever.
“Have you talked to Jake recently?” Wyatt asks finally.
The question catches me off guard. I try to keep my face neutral. “We’ve both been busy. Why?”
“Natalie.” Wyatt leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I know about Valentine’s Day.”
The words hit like ice water.
“Oh,” I manage.
His eyes are warm, understanding, and hold no blame or judgment.
Blair moves from her chair to the couch, sitting next to me. Her hand finds mine, and that’s when I know. That’s when the real panic starts clawing up my throat. My heart kicks into overdrive, slamming against my ribs. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong.
“Why are you asking if I’ve talked to Jake?” My voice sounds strange, too high. “What happened? Is he okay?”
Wyatt’s face is grave. “There was an accident.”
The room tilts.
“What kind of accident?”
“He went home to Connecticut. To see his mom. Went out for a run yesterday morning and slipped on ice. Hit his head.” Wyatt pauses, and I can see him choosing his words carefully. “He has swelling in his brain. They’ve put him in a medically induced coma to keep the pressure down while it heals.”
The words don’t make sense. My brain refuses to process them. Accident. Coma. My mind is screaming. My chest constricts, a crushing weight pressing down until I can’tbreathe. My hands start shaking. The room feels too small, the air too thin.
I’m standing before I realize I’m moving. “I need to go. I need to get to Connecticut. Where is he? What hospital?”
“Nat—” Blair’s up too, her hands on my shoulders.
“I need to see him. I need—” I’m looking around for my phone, my keys, my bag. My thoughts are jumbled, none of them making sense, all of them screaming the same thing: Jake. I need to get to Jake. “I can book a flight. Or I can drive. How long does it take to drive to Connecticut? I can?—”
“You can’t fly,” Wyatt says quietly.
“I don’t care?—”
“The airlines won’t let you on the plane. Not this far along. It’s policy.”
“Then I’ll drive. I’ll leave right now. I just need to pack a bag and?—”
My breathing is shallow, too fast, my heart racing. My jaw clenches so tight it hurts. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Jake can’t be?—
No. I won’t think it. Won’t let the thought form.
“Natalie, stop.” Blair’s voice is firm. She turns me to face her, her hands still on my shoulders. “You can’t drive across the country right now. You’re about to have a baby.”
“He needs me.” My voice cracks, and I realize I’m crying. When did I start crying? The tears are hot, relentless, blurring my vision. My whole body trembles. “He can’t—he has to wake up. He has to be here for the birth. He has to meet his daughter.”
He has to know I love him. That I want him. That I made a terrible mistake and I need the chanceto fix it.
“His mom’s with him,” Wyatt says. “And I’m flying out this afternoon. They’re doing everything right, Nat. He’s at a good hospital. He’s getting excellent care.”
“I should be there.” The tears are coming faster now, hot and desperate. My chest heaves with sobs I can’t control. The weight pressing down is unbearable, crushing everything inside me. “I should be the one sitting with him.”
