Page 61 of Hide Little Traitor

I nod, still unable to tear my eyes off my own hand.

“I can see you’ve taken a shower. I’m sure it feels better now you’re clean,” she says as she gently rests the machine on the nightstand and her bag beside Kingston, who still sits on the edge of the bed, his palm resting on my calf like a silent sentinel.

“Would it be okay if you checked on the baby first?” he asks gently. “I think that will make Chloe feel better, right, Mama?”

Tears gather at the corners of my eyes because I was trying to find the words to ask the same thing. How could he possibly know that’s what I needed?

“Of course,” Christine agrees, plugging in the machine she brought in with her and pulling some things from her bag.

I’m no stranger to ultrasounds. I’ve had so many over the years for my endometriosis. But this is the first one I’ve ever had without Ronan holding my hand, and that brings its own unique kind of grief with it.

“Do you know how far along you are, dear?”

I shake my head. “I’m on the pill to help maintain my endometriosis,” I whisper, not trusting my voice with the emotions weighing down on me. “I had the flu about six weeks ago and threw up a few times. I’m assuming that’s when it was ineffective.”

She nods along. “Depending when the fetus was conceived, we may not be able to find a heartbeat just yet, but I can check everything else to make sure it’s looking okay.”

“Thank you.” My voice breaks, a rough sob tearing from my chest.

Ronan should be here.

He should be seeing our baby for the first time with me.

But he’s not, and we may never see him again.

He may never get the chance to meet his child, and my heart can’t handle the idea of a little being half me and half him, the product of our love, that he’ll never get to meet.

Kingston rounds the bed and crawls onto the mattress beside me. His arm wraps around my shoulders as Christine helps me reposition and lift the shirt to expose my belly—the only part of me not riddled with cuts and bruising.

I tuck my head into his shoulder, allowing myself to sink into his comfort as the doctor squirts gel onto my stomach and begins the scan.

The room is quiet, too quiet, and I find myself holding my breath as I wait for what I assume is going to be bad news.

It probably seems silly to want this baby so much considering I have no support system, no money. Hell, I don’t have a single item that belongs to me.

But after years of being told I likely wouldn’t be able to conceive naturally, this baby is a miracle, no matter the circumstances.

Kingston watches the screen over the top of my head, but his body remains calm and free of tension. Is that a good sign? Or is he just good at controlling his reactions?

“Chloe,” the doctor says carefully, and I drag my eyes to hers, my stomach rolling with dread. But then my attention catches on the screen, and I see it.

Our baby.

The little jelly bean is so small I only know what it is because I’ve sat in enough obstetrician waiting rooms to have seen what feels like a million of them.

“Everything looks good right now. You’re around five weeks along, so certainly not out of the danger zone. But you have a little fighter on your hands.”

“Just like their mama,” Kingston whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I don’t know how I would be doing this without him by my side, but I’ll never be able to repay him for the kindness he’s shown me since the moment he scooped me off the gas station floor.

“Given your history with endometriosis, I would be most comfortable if you saw an OB-GYN sooner rather than later, and you will likely need more monitoring than usual, but it’ll be worth it even if it’s just for your own peace of mind.”

I stare at the screen and allow the grief and gratitude to pool in my chest.

Although I never imagined becoming a mother under such awful circumstances, I already know there’s nothing I won’t do to keep this baby safe.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT