Once More Chance (Chance #2; Rosemary Beach #8) (7 page)

He shrugged. “Not much. She misses Kiro. She’d never admit it, but she worries over him. She’s the one he loved, and she loves him, too. She doesn’t like knowing
he’s suffered all these years over her mother. But right now, her main concern is the . . . baby.”

The baby.
Our baby.
It didn’t seem real. I forced thoughts of it out of my head. I couldn’t think about that right now. I had to stay focused and get Harlow back home. I
wanted to wrap her up and protect her. Getting her back to my place was the first step.

“You don’t want her to have it, do you?” Mase asked with a scowl on his face.

“I want Harlow,” I replied. That was all that mattered.

“She wants the baby.”

I knew that. I just didn’t want to talk about it right now. “I’m going to handle that. I just need time.”

Mase nodded and let out a weary sigh. “You’ve got to. I can’t lose her, either. I love that girl, too.”

“We won’t lose her. I won’t let that happen,” I assured him, but I was assuring myself just as much.

A truck came up the driveway, and I watched as Harlow stepped out of Maryann’s truck and waved good-bye to her. Then she turned to the house and headed our way. A small smile played on her
lips, and she looked happy. I loved seeing her happy.

“You make her smile,” Mase said. “That’s the only reason I’m letting her leave with you. I think you might be the only other person on this earth who wants her
alive as much as I do.”

I wasn’t going to tell him that there was no way he could want her healthy and alive more than me. He had no idea what it was like for a girl to be someone’s whole reason for
breathing.

She opened the screen door, and her gaze swung to me as her lips pulled up into a full smile. “I’m ready,” she said.

“You gonna hug me before you go?” Mase asked from across the room.

Harlow smiled and walked over to him. “Of course. I wouldn’t leave without telling you good-bye and thank you. For everything.” She wrapped her arms around him as he held her
close. His eyes found me over her head. He didn’t have to say it out loud for me to understand his warning. If I ever hurt her again, he’d kill me. But there was no reason for him to be
worried about that. I would walk on water for that woman.

“Call me if you need anything,” Mase told her.

“I will. Love you,” she said, then stepped back out of his embrace.

“Love you, too,” he said.

They had a normal kind of sibling love, where they truly cared for each other and weren’t selfish. I thought about what Rush had with Nan, which was very one-sided. Nan was too selfish to
appreciate her brother. I wished Rush had something like this. He deserved it.

“Let’s go home,” she said as she turned back to me.

Home. That had meant a lot of different things to me all my life. But now anywhere she was with me would be home.

H
e wouldn’t talk about it. Not one time had he brought it up. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. I had told him I wouldn’t
abort the baby, and now we were just quietly sitting on the plane.

He hadn’t asked about the baby at all since I’d told him, and other than a quick kiss before we drove to the airport, he only tried to hold me—nothing more. He wasn’t
acting like the passionate, take-control man who had introduced me to intimacy. It was like I was made of blown glass; he was handling me as if one wrong move would break me.

Which was why I hadn’t wanted to tell him about my heart in the first place.

I hated being treated differently, but things were worse now. I wasn’t just a sick girl to him; I was also the girl who was hanging on by a thread. Did he not get that I was alive because
I refused to give in to the restrictions of my heart condition? I had been a fighter since the day I was born. I wasn’t about to stop now.

I wanted my Grant back. The man who couldn’t keep his hands off me. The man who I knew wanted me above all things and made me feel desired. Not the man who acted like it was his one goal
in life to keep me alive. That was not what I wanted at all.

“You OK?” His concerned voice only fueled my frustration.

I shrugged, because I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would yell at him. I loved him, and I was happy to be with him, so I didn’t want to yell at him. But I wasn’t sure I
could keep from doing just that if he kept this up.

“You’re frowning like something’s bothering you,” he pointed out.

Something
was
bothering me, but I wasn’t going to share that with him. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from growling in frustration and turned to look out the plane window. We
were close to Destin, Florida, now. I could see the ocean.

“Harlow.” His voice was gentle. “Look at me, please.”

I hated it when I tried to be firm and he went all sweet. It was hard to ignore a sweet Grant Carter. Giving in, I glanced over at him. His forehead was creased in a frown, and his eyes looked
full of worry. “I’m not breakable. I’m still me. You’re treating me differently,” I said, hating the way my voice cracked, which only made me seem more vulnerable. I
was trying to convince this man that I was tough.

Grant stood up from the seat across from me and moved to the leather sofa beside me, pulling me into his arms. He let out a weary sigh and kissed the top of my head. I had expected him to
immediately deny that he had been treating me differently, but he wasn’t doing that. At least he was aware of it.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to deal with this right now. All I can think about is keeping you safe.”

“I’ve been taking care of myself all my life. I’m not fragile. I want to be treated like . . . like how you treated me before.” I couldn’t make myself say I wanted
him to want me. That just sounded pathetic.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” he replied.

I hadn’t realized that just a few words could be so heartbreaking.

“Give me time. After we talk to the doctor, I’ll feel like I have some control over this. I can’t just disregard your health because I want you. Don’t doubt for a moment
that all I can think about is stripping you down and making love to you over and over again. Hearing you pant and cry out. I crave that, baby. But you’re my world. I protect what’s
mine.”

How could I argue with that? I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. We were going to get through this. He was here with me, and he wasn’t running scared. He wanted
me safe, and I couldn’t be mad about that. Grant had his fears. I had to respect those and give him time. “I missed you,” I said against his chest, although he already knew that.
I wanted to tell him again.

“I missed you more. Every damn second I missed you,” he said as his lips hovered close to my ear. The warmth from his breath caused me to shiver.

We sat there in each other’s arms for the rest of the flight. We didn’t talk, because we didn’t need to. Just being together was enough. My eyes began to grow heavy, and I
closed them, knowing that when I woke up, he’d be there.

As we walked into the doctor’s office in Destin, Grant was holding my hand. This time, when I saw the other pregnant women in the waiting room with their husbands, I
didn’t feel a sense of loss or sadness. Grant was with me, hovering over me in all his possessive, protective glory, as if he needed to fight off an attack of some sort. He was adorable.

“Go sit down, and I’ll get the paperwork to fill out,” he said gently as he pointed to the empty chairs across the room.

I didn’t argue with him, because I was beginning to realize he needed to do this. It made him feel safer if he was taking care of me. Even if I could get my own paperwork. I walked over to
my seat and noticed that the eyes of several other females in the room were all directed toward Grant. Of course they were. He stood out. His low voice as he spoke to the lady at the check-in desk
was enough to catch anyone’s attention. But the view of his backside in those jeans was also very hard to look away from. The lady closest to him sat up straighter and crossed her legs. She
also adjusted her bra, pushing her boobs up so that her cleavage was hard to miss. A flash of anger shot through me, and I felt my face get hot. I glared at her as she kept her attention completely
trained on Grant. She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and tugged her skirt up just a little so more of her thigh was showing. What the hell?

Grant turned around with the clipboard, and his gaze instantly found mine. For a moment, I felt better. Then the blonde’s voice stopped him.

“Grant Carter?” she cooed in a sultry voice that couldn’t have been her real voice. Grant stopped and glanced back at the woman who had fixed herself up for his attention. He
paused and then smiled. My stomach felt sick.

“Melody?” he replied, as if he wasn’t sure if that was her name or not.

She beamed up at him like he had said the most wonderful thing in the world. I was officially nauseated. And I was jealous. Completely jealous. Because he was smiling at her. “What are you
doing here? Never expected to see Grant Carter at my gyno’s office.” As if she hadn’t seen him walk in with me.

Grant turned to me, and his grin grew. “I’m here with my . . .” He paused. It was only a brief pause, but in that moment, it felt like he had sliced me with a knife. He
didn’t even know what I was to him. He hadn’t thought about it. “Girlfriend,” he finished, before winking at me and turning back to Blondie with the big boobs.

Blondie barely glanced my way, and then she did a double take. When I walked next to Grant in a room full of women, no one paid attention to me, so I hadn’t been recognized. I hated that
my face was so well known now.

“Is that . . . oh, my God, it is,” she said in a surprised voice.

Grant moved fast. He was in front of me, taking my hand and pulling me up against him in seconds, moving me toward the door leading out of the waiting room. “She needs privacy,” he
informed the lady at the desk, and she seemed to understand completely and nodded as he closed the door behind us.

A nurse met us in the empty hallway. “This way,” she said as she opened a door to an exam room and waved for us to go inside. “Have Miss Manning fill out the paperwork, and
I’ll be back shortly to get it.” I was a little dizzy from how quickly that had happened. Grant had moved fast. He hadn’t taken time to say good-bye to Melody or make any
explanations.

“Sorry. I should have known she’d recognize you. She’s the fangirl sort. I brought her around Rush once, and she acted like an idiot,” Grant said, looking frustrated.

“So you dated her?” I asked, unable to help the jealous tone in my voice. I normally wasn’t so transparent with my emotions, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

Grant frowned, and then a small smile tugged on the corners of his lips. He closed the space between us and backed me up against the exam table as he towered over me, looking extremely pleased.
“Yeah, I dated her a few times years ago. You jealous, sweet girl?” he asked with a sugary, warm drawl.

I could have lied, but instead, I shrugged. I would try for nonchalance.

Grant threw his head back and laughed before caging me in with both of his arms as he leaned down over me. “Oh, no, you don’t get to do that. I am enjoying this moment. I like that
you got jealous of me. Not that you have anything to be jealous of ever, but I like it. I’m yours, baby, but knowing you want me makes it pretty damn sweet.”

I tried to frown, but a giggle escaped.

“W
e’ll need to take this one step at a time. Harlow has been made aware of the risks. I see women with her condition deliver babies
several times a year. But then, I also see other things happen. While maternal mortality has decreased in the last decade, that’s still our number one concern here. Then there’s the
possibility that the fetus won’t make it past the first trimester. A spontaneous abortion or miscarriage could occur, which we can’t control—it happens even in normal pregnancies.
But it could cause complications. Alternatively, the baby could come early. And if the birth is successful, the baby could inherit Harlow’s condition.”

The doctor was talking, and I was hearing him, but I was losing focus. The term “maternal mortality” had seized my lungs and caused my heart to slam against my rib cage. I
couldn’t accept those two words. Ever.

The doctor directed his next words at Harlow. “Weekly visits are a must. I have to monitor your heart rate, and as we progress, we will need to keep an eye on the fetus as it
matures.”

Fucking complications. I hated this. I fucking hated it, knowing that Harlow was facing these dangers because I didn’t use a damn condom a couple of times. This was my fault. If I lost
her, it would all be on me. I did this to her. I put that . . . that baby in there that she was so determined to protect. That she loved.

I loved her. I loved her so damn much.

“I went over your records this morning as soon as the fax came in. I’m pleased to say that you’re in much better health than most women with this condition. You had successful
surgeries as a child, and you have been healthy. No problems or issues. You are high-risk, but all the signs tell me we can do this. You’re a fighter. That much is obvious, from what
I’ve seen.” The doctor looked from Harlow to me. “And she will need support. She doesn’t need negativity. She needs a team. You are the most important part of that
team.”

I swallowed against the tight grip my fear had on my throat. I needed her. Fuck this. I needed her to live. To be safe. I managed a nod. It was the best I could do.

“Hypertension is a major concern at this point. Her blood pressure should be checked morning and night. She needs to get moderate exercise. Maybe stroll down the beach for a mile but no
more than that. Swimming is also good. If you have a pool, that would be ideal. Just something easy. Resting throughout the day and elevating her feet are important. She will need someone there to
remind her and make sure she does this.”

I nodded again. If persuading Harlow to end this pregnancy was impossible, then I intended to make sure she did all of this. If I had to quit my damn job, I would.