Rage slithers through my veins.
“Where is she?!” My voice is too loud. Louder than the cries. Louder than the prayers.
He snaps his head at me, eyes bloodshot and weary. “She’s still in surgery,” he whispers, lifeless and weak. “She should… She should be out soon. I-I hope.”
I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. The hospital smells of antiseptic and fear, a nauseating mix that threatens to swallow me whole. Quin looks like he's been through hell and back, and I hate myself for not being here sooner. For not being able to prevent this.
"I'm so sorry," Quin mutters, his voice barely audible. "I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve had her room swept before…” His words trail off, a haunted expression crossing his face. “It’s my fault, Damon. It’s… If she dies…”
My anger dissipates, replaced by a heavy sense of shared guilt and helplessness. “She won’t," I state with absolute certainty, as if I’m making a pact with God himself. No more. You can’t take any more of the people I love. Hesitating for a second, I take a breath and sink down in a seat next to Quin. With a hand on his trembling knee, I whisper, “This isn’t your fault, Quin. Okay?”
“But it is…” His gaze remains on the checkered floor beneath our feet. “If I didn’t go to Texas… If I didn’t try and make things better…” He swallows, briefly glancing up at me, tears welling up in his eyes. “What did I do, D?” His voice breaks. “What did I fucking do?!”
I know exactly how it feels to be responsible fordeath. I know that he wishes it were him. I know that he’s drowning in regret. In sorrow. But I also know that she’s still alive. That there’s hope. But nothing I say will help him. No words will pull him out of the darkness. Not until he sees her breathing. Not until he hears her voice.
All we can do is wait and hope.
And so we do.
I pace the hospital waiting room, my anxiety palpable with every step. Quin rubs his hands together, head dropped between his legs as he remains silent, unable to speak. The hours drag on like days. Like fucking years. It’s been too long. We should know something by now. There should be news.
A little after 4 a.m., the administrative doors swing open and a doctor dressed in blue scrubs approaches us, her expression grave. "Mr. Cavanaugh, Dr. Marquis.” My heart clenches, Quin’s face contorting with fear as he stands up. "I'm Dr. Sindhu. I've been overseeing Emery’s surgery."
My gut twists. "Is she okay?”
Dr. Sindhu takes a moment gathering her thoughts before explaining. "Emery is still in surgery. They’re closing her now.” I hold my breath. “We encountered complications due to her transplant history. She lost a lot of blood.”
My mind races with horrid scenarios. "Complications? What kind of complications?"
Dr. Sindhu clears her throat. "The penetrating injury to her pulmonary artery was more complex thananticipated. The bullet was found near the bronchus, which posed challenges during repair.”
Quinton's fists clench at his sides as he listens intently. "Is she stable?”
Dr. Sindhu nods, though her expression remains somber. "She's stable for now.”
Relief and worry mingle in my chest, causing my shoulders to sag. "When can we see her?”
The doctor offers a sympathetic smile. "In a few hours. I'll update you as soon as she’s able to take visitors.” Her eyes narrow and drift between Quin and me. “We’ll need to monitor her for a week after she wakes up and make sure the fetal stats remain stable.”
My knees nearly buckle. “Fetal?”
Confusion briefly captures the doctor’s expression but quickly morphs back to professional. “She's pregnant, sir.”
My eyes widen in shock. "She's what?"
Quinton swallows hard beside me, his face ghostly while. "How many weeks?"
"Seven weeks.”
Seven weeks. Seven fucking weeks. Pregnant. She’s pregnant. With a child. There’s a child growing inside her. A living, breathing…human. Inside of her. My mind spins, dizzying me.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Quin says as I attempt to wrap my head around the bomb dropped on us. “Let us know as soon as we can see her.”
“I will.”
I don’t notice the doctor leaving. I don’t notice anything. I don’t hear anything.
A baby. She’s going to have a baby.
