A Winter's Date (9 page)

“Brannon! Don’t take his side. I’m her sister, and he’s . . . I’m the one that’s supposed to be staying with her.”

Shit, I didn’t know she had beef with me, especially since she helped me get Heather back.

“Dani, please? I love you, and I’m so happy you’re here, but I need him right now.”

“Whatever, Heather.” Dani grabs her shit and stomps out of the room.

“Damn, I’m sorry, you guys. I’ll try to talk to her,” Brannon interjects before walking out to go after her.

I turn to Heather and look down at her. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to piss her off.”

She gives me an apologetic smile. “Don’t be. I want you here.”

“We’re going to head out too; we’ll be back in the morning,” Coen says as he and Dillen move toward the door.

Turning to glance at them, I say, “Thanks guys,” before looking back down at Heather as she says goodbye to them.

Her bruised little face lights up when it’s just us again. “I love you,” she says before tugging on my t-shirt, successfully pulling me down to kiss her.

I smile against her lips and pull back. “I love you too,” I say, looking her over. “Are you hurting? What did they do to you while I was gone?” I ask as I put another thin blanket over her legs carefully.

“I had that scan done and then . . .” She trails off, and I look up, noticing her little nose is scrunched. I can tell she doesn’t want to tell me.

“What?” I prod.

“They took my catheter out,” she quickly replies and turns her head. I can’t help but chuckle. She’s so fucking adorable.

“But I’m still bleeding. I don’t know why. I guess that’s what happens.”

My eyes flicker down to her stomach, and my smile suddenly falls.

Shit. Here we go.

I’ve had plenty of time to look up what happens after a miscarriage while I waited for her to wake up. Her bleeding isn’t from the catheter removal. Well, not all of it anyway. I clear my throat and sit on the edge of the bed. Taking in a deep breath and exhaling, I look behind me at the door and pray that nobody interrupts this because I’m going to go ape-shit if they do. I look back at her, keeping my emotions masked.

“Heather, there’s something you need to know.”

I bring her hand to my mouth and start kissing her fingertips. She’s watching me with those eyes of hers, and they’re free of tears for once.
Ah hell.

“Heather, I don’t know any other way to tell you this . . .” A little wrinkle forms between her eyebrows, and I exhale audibly. “You were pregnant . . . but you’ve had a miscarriage.” I kiss the palm of her hand while I wait for her to process what I’m saying. I know that this probably won’t go over well, but I’m not letting go of her.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper into her palm and kiss it again.

“I . . . you got me pregnant?”

I look up at her, and it’s as if my worst fears are realized. She’s angry. I nod because I’m struggling to find the right words. “Yes, I did. I’m sorry, Heather.”

“It’s gone? I’m not pregnant?” The look of shock on her face is scaring me—I’m unsure how to decipher her emotions.

It?
I frown at her wording. We had a baby growing inside of her, and her reaction is not what I was prepared for.

“No . . . not anymore.”

She doesn’t speak for the longest time. Her eyes glass over, and she’s staring at me, but looking straight through me.

“Hey . . . talk to me.”

I try ducking my head to get into her line of vision.

“This can’t be happening . . .” she says in a silent whisper.

I don’t even know how to console her. She’s so silent. Is she wondering what we could have had? What if?

I’m numb.

HEATHER

Pregnant?

I cannot put into words the depth of sorrow I feel right now.

Blankness.

Numbness.

Nothing.

How do I forgive my broken body?

How do I tell that baby goodbye, when I didn’t get a chance to say hello, or that I loved it? Not only did I not know I was pregnant, but I lost my baby. Our baby. A baby I held for every second of its life and now? Nothing.

My mind is running over everything I could have done differently if I had known. I wouldn’t have been drinking and . . . oh God. This is my fault, and I have no explanation for it.

My emotions are in turmoil as the world around me moves on as if my heart has not been shattered into hundreds of unfixable pieces, and a million words or emotions could not bring our baby back. I glance back up at Noah, and he’s holding my hand, but I feel isolated and alone. I feel utterly empty.

How is this affecting him? Is he devastated? Relieved?

“Noah?” He kisses my palm again and looks down into my eyes. “I didn’t know . . .”

“I’m sorry, Heather.”

“No . . . I’m sorry.”

He lowers his head to my stomach and kisses it gently, melting my heart. He’s quiet for a long, agonizing minute, but then he speaks and I almost can’t hear him. “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you? I’m so happy that you’re here,” I say, attempting to smile for him, but I’m almost sure he can see through my broken heart and empty, aching arms. Every part of me hurts: my mind, my soul, and every inch of my disgustingly bruised, broken body is mourning and pleading that this is not true.

He moves and tilts my chin up. “Tell me what you need.”

I’m confused by what he says because what I need has been taken from me—from us. I shake my head and stare out of the window to a clear blue sky. “I don’t know what I need.”

He laces his fingers with mine. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep then?”

I reposition myself on the bed, not wanting to look out onto a clear, gorgeous day while I’m in my own personal hell.

My body cries out in loss as I lie still, unmoving, as I try and fight through this news. I know that there will be months and years of mourning that I need to get through. It’s hard to imagine anything more heartbreaking than this loss. How can I love something so much that I didn’t fully have, that I didn’t know even existed? The only way I can work through this grief is to let it hit me with its full force of intensity and take it. I know I have to grieve because it’s the emotional and physical price I need to pay, but I feel blindsided.

I unconsciously move my arms down to my midsection, holding my empty tummy.

This grief will not expire, and I will not be intoxicated by memories and feelings of this loved angel, an angel whose heart stopped beating before mine could beat for it. I will never know what it would’ve been like to carry this child; I will not have memories of being pregnant or being excited to hold my newborn or watching it sleep in my arms while Noah sat by my side. I have nothing.

Desolation.

When I wake up, Noah is fast asleep, half of his body draped onto the bed with his head resting on my stomach. Did he even sleep while I was sedated? It doesn’t seem like he did. I try stretching out my legs, but they are stiff and sore. I wince and look up when I realize we’re not alone. “Dani?”

“He shouldn’t be crowding you like that. He’s probably hurting you.”

“It’s nice to see you too, sister.”

“Heather . . . I’m going to call the doctor. He shouldn’t be using you as a pillow,” she all but yells, which causes Noah to stir.

“Please stop . . . I can tell he hasn’t slept. If this was Brannon, I would never ask him to leave.”

“Well, he’s not Brannon. You’ve been with this man for all of five minutes.”

I scowl at her. “What the heck is your problem, Danielle?” I try to sit up more without waking him.

I think he feels me move, and it’s hurting me more than anything, I look down at my man as he forces his bloodshot eyes open. “Mmm, do you need me to take you to the bathroom?”

Dani clears her throat and glares at me expectantly.

I shake my head and whisper, “No, not yet. Go back to sleep,” and glare at Dani when his eyes close.

“That’s it. I’m calling the doctor.” She gets up and strides over to the call button, hitting it twice. Two nurses come into the room a moment later.

“Miss Lane? Is everything okay?” one of them asks.

“Yes, I’m fine . . . it was pressed by mistake. I’m sorry,” I say as she eyes my handsome sleeping Greek god.

“Actually,” Dani pipes in, but I stare her down. “Never mind. Thank you.”

The nurses leave, and I’m not even sure what to say to my sister in this moment.

“I’m sorry, Heather . . . it’s just . . . I just went into mom mode.”

I sigh quietly. “Dani, Noah loves me. Why are you so mad at him?”

“Because I want to be the one taking care of my sister; it’s my job to do it. It always has been. He comes into the picture and takes you away from me . . .” She sniffles, and I know she’s being selfish, but I understand now. It’s always been just the two of us.

I look down at Noah. He’s proved to me over and over again how much he loves me. “Dani, it’s not just you and I anymore, and he’s been taking care of me.”

“I know he has. I’m just . . . ugh! I’m just jealous,” she sobs and wipes at the tears that have fallen down her cheek.

“Jealous? Dani, you’re being ridiculous. I’m lucky he even wants me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly and gets up, walking over to me and hugging me gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I know she wants to feel needed, so I quickly think of something for her to do. “Umm, do you know when I get to leave?”

She eyes my bruises before she smiles again. “I can go find out. I’ll be right back.”

She quickly leaves the room, and I sag back against the pillow just as Noah opens his eyes slowly, greeting me with a sleepy, lazy smile.

“Bathroom?” he asks groggily.

I hold in a giggle and nod. “Please?”

I’ve got both Noah
and Dani wanting me to need them.

“Mmm, I need a kiss first, ballerina,” he says as he sits up.

I lean into him and tilt my head up, pressing my lips to his.

He growls aggressively against my lips and smiles. “You have no idea how happy I am about you being awake and okay,” he says as he stands up and removes the thin blanket from my legs. I reach out and grab hold of the IV stand before he carefully lifts me into his arms.

I’m sore all over, but I try not to let it show. He carries me gently and sets me down on the toilet. I don’t even have to say anything because he already knows what I’m thinking. He’s looking down at me, his face as serious as ever.

“Get over it, ballerina; I’m not leaving you in here alone.”

“Noah, please?”

“No way in hell am I leaving this room.”

He turns around and faces the wall, giving me as much privacy as I’m going to get. I huff angrily and as loud as I can, so he knows how mad I am.

“Don’t even try that with me. You know I love it when you’re pissy.”

This is so not right. I sit there quietly and cross my arms in a full-on pout. I am not peeing in front of him.

He turns around and raises his eyebrow at me. “Heather . . .”

I glare at him. “Yes, Ryan?”

“You are so fucking stubborn. You know that?” he says as he steps just outside of the door, leaving the door wide open. I growl in frustration and try to reach for the faucet unsuccessfully.

“Noah?”

“Yes, baby?” he calls from around the corner.