The words crack something open in me. Last time I grieved and bled alone, but this time I have Gabriel to keep me strong.
“I’m scared,” I admit.
He presses a kiss to my temple. “Me too.”
And somehow, hearing that makes it less suffocating because shared fear feels lighter than fear carried alone.
But as I rest my hand over my abdomen, one thought settles heavy in my chest—I survived losing one baby. I don’t know if I could survive losing two.
THIRTY-FIVE
GABRIEL | FLORENCE
“Just remember—committo your line and don’t overthink it. Trust the wave, and you’ll be fine,” I say to both Koa and Maliah before I end the video call.
They’re surfing the legendary Teahupo’o today, and the swell report I checked an hour ago wasn’t comforting. They both need to stay focused out there, or else things could go horribly wrong.
I feel guilty that I’m not there for this one—I don’t know if I could have done it without my coach back in my touring days—but Zalea needs me more right now, so they’ll have to manage.
They don’t know about Zalea, and I’ve asked Zale not to say anything either. She’s only a few days post-op, and I don’t want to add any stress on their plates before they paddle into waves that could literally break their bones, if not worse.
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I head toward Zalea’s hospital room, pausing outside the door to brace myself. Last night she looked completely hollow, as if someone had drained the colour right out of her. I could tell she was trying to be strong while the doctor was telling her about the risk of her pregnancy, but I heard her crying when she thought Zale and I were asleep.
I never told her what Doctor Ricci said to me privately while Zalea was still asleep those first two days. After I filled her inon Zalea’s first unsuccessful pregnancy, and she was sent Zalea’s medical records from Saltwater Springs, she told me that things can go sideways fast. That hemorrhaging can happen and that sometimes we lose the mother trying to save the babies.
I haven’t let myself fully think about that sentence, because there’s no way I can survive in a world without Zalea. It’s not an option.
With a deep breath, I plaster on a smile for her sake and push the door open. Zale is sitting on the edge of her bed, hands flying as he tells her a story and Zalea is laughing a real laugh, her head tipped back slightly and eyes bright.
“You should’ve seen his face when he realized he actually missed that turn and the GPS was recalculating,” Zale says.
Zalea giggles. “Did he blame you?”
“He probably did in his head.”
I lean against the doorframe for a second just watching her. The colour has come back to her cheeks and although she still looks tired, she looks a little less broken today.
She glances to where I stand and her smile softens. “There’s my favourite coach,” she says.
“Hey,” I murmur, walking over and brushing my thumb along her jaw. “You look better.”
She nods. “Zale’s been filling me in on your hilarious road trip when you two came to see me in Varazze.”
“Happy to help,” he says with a mock bow.
A knock interrupts us and Doctor Ricci steps inside with a nurse and a portable monitor.
“Ready for your ultrasound?” she asks, smiling kindly at Zalea.
My stomach flips in excitement and nervousness as Zalea nods. “Ready.”
They wheel her bed carefully into the hallway, and I walk beside her, holding her hand the entire time. Zale follows behind us until we reach the imaging department.
“I’m going to hang back,” he says to me. “I’ll check out the cafeteria and grab food for when you get back.”
Zale might not be the brightest bulb in the room, but at least he has enough self-awareness to give us space. “Thanks,” I say, appreciatively before he disappears down the corridor.
Inside the ultrasound room, the lights are dimmed and the machine hums softly. The technician at the monitor turns and greets us, working with the nurse to position Zalea’s bed exactly where she needs her.
