The Phoenix Campaign (Grace Colton Book 2) (22 page)

“Six. But it’s a twenty-six when you touch it.”

He makes a note on his chart. “You’re due for another dose of painkillers, so we’ll get those to you as quick as we can. You didn’t need sutures, just a bit of glue.”

“You glued my head?” I stare at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. You’d be surprised how well superglue works for certain injuries.”

I shake my head but it amplifies the pain, so I force myself to lean back on my pillow and take a few breaths to until the throbbing subsides. “What about … my baby?”

The doctor wheels a stool over and takes a seat so he’s at eye level with me. “Would you like to speak about this privately?” He eyes Sasha.

I reach for her hand and she clasps mine, squeezing. “No. She can stay. She knows everything and I’d rather have her here with me.” I exchange looks with her and a small smile forms on her lips, like a sister who shares my secrets. She nods a silent
thank you.

“There’s a rupture in your uterine wall. We’re not certain if this pregnancy is viable.”

My blood goes cold and I shrink in the bed, the hospital’s sharp sting of antiseptic invading my senses. Suddenly my hospital gown is scratchy, the IV tube taped to the back of my hand throbbing, and I want to claw my way out of here. To escape.

A sob builds in my chest and I choke it back, desperately trying to hold panic at bay. “How will you know?”

“We’d need to keep you here on observation. There are no guarantees. We have a heartbeat, so that’s encouraging.”

A heartbeat. Proof that my child is real—and at risk. “What do I have to do?” My question is a prayer and a promise.
Anything. I’ll do anything to keep it.

“It’s early enough in your pregnancy that if this compromises your health further, you will need to decide whether to continue with the pregnancy. We count anyone over thirty-five as a geriatric pregnancy, so you’re in a high-risk category.”

I snort. “Geriatric?”

The doctor’s smile reveals gleaming white teeth and he holds up his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“There’s no choice here, doctor. I’m keeping this baby,” I tell him fiercely.

“Then you’re going to need to stay on bed rest for at least the next several days and possibly for a matter of weeks. Considering your candidacy…” He trails off, but the message is clear.

If I go back to this crazy pace on the campaign trail, I could lose my child.

Sasha clears her throat. “There doesn’t need to be a candidacy.”

I spin to look at her, disbelief painted all over my face. “Is Shep—?”

“No, Shep’s fine. Licking his wounds but soldiering on to November. I mean
you
. If what you want is this child, then we have to seriously consider a new running mate. Shep will understand. There’s no way you can campaign from this bed.”

The doctor stands, his news delivered. “I’m going to see about those painkillers. I’ll leave you to decide what’s best.” He strides to the door, then pauses. “For what it’s worth, Congresswoman Colton, I love your moxie.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Bed rest would have sounded fantastic when I was dead on my feet after a sixteen-hour day.

But after sixteen hours with nothing but painfully slow Wi-Fi on my laptop and soaps on cable, I’m done with it.

They won’t let me get out of bed except to pee.

The hospital air makes my sinuses too dry.

The bed is too hot or too cold, my ass is paralyzed from sitting still, and I’m even irritated by the shape of the ice cubes in my cup.

The fucking ice cubes.

Mac and Eric are my lifeline, guarding the door from entry by anyone but Sasha and the medical staff. Mac brings me a stack of trashy magazines and chocolate, then Eric tracks down a charger cable for my dead cell phone.

Twenty-seven new messages.

More than half of them from Jared.

Fuck.

I call Aliza with an update to calm her frantic messages after she saw my fall on YouTube.

“I’ll drop everything and fly out there right this minute,” she offers.

“No. There’s nothing you can do. Now it’s just a waiting game.”

Sasha promised me she’d hold news of my condition except to tell the press that I was in good condition and more details would be coming later. Presumably after she’s had time to figure out with Shep and Jared how to replace me.

I’m bitter at the thought. I’ve poured every ounce of my energy—and every last shred of hope—into this opportunity, only to have it torn from me by this unseen force. This tiny person who is only just surviving in my belly.

When morning comes, Sasha slams into my hospital room less than sixty seconds after visiting hours begin. “This is it. It’s time to face the music.”

“Why? What?” I’m groggy from my restless night, interrupted too often by ridiculously cheerful, chatty nurses.

“Shep and Jared are outside. They need to talk to you. You need to decide.”

I sit up, pushing my hands through greasy hair and wincing at the persistent ache on the side of my head. “Right now?”

“Right here,” Sasha affirms. “Jared’s not taking no for an answer.”

“Give me a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute,” Jared says as he pushes open my door. I hear a scuffle as Mac and Eric attempt to pull him back out of my room, but Sasha shakes her head at them, a silent order to stand down.

Shep enters the room behind Jared, his dark eyes aged by heavy circles. He probably slept as little as I did.

“You couldn’t call me back? Not even for one fucking minute?” Jared’s words attack me and I shrink back into my pillow.

“Give her a break,” Sasha warns.

He sees my phone, laptop, and the stack of gossip magazines on the bedside table. “I’m counting at least two ways you could have contacted me. Since when is
she
in and I’m out?” He whips a glance at Sasha.

That sets me truly on edge. “Since you stormed out of my hotel room in New York.”

“Things changed.” His nostrils flare with annoyance.

“Why? Because of Shep’s press conference I’m supposed to forget how you treated me?”

“No, because you’re hurt and I care about you and you won’t let me anywhere near you.”

Shep steps up to my bedside and shifts the energy in the room. “I think we all need to calm down here. Can you do that, Jared? Or do you want to take a breather?”

Shep’s gentle question is laced with a threat. Either Jared chills out, or Shep’s going to throw him out. And no matter how keen Jared is to fight back against Sasha, he knows he’s outgunned against Shep.

“I’m fine,” he grits out, and crosses my room to look out the window. His rigid posture tells me he’s fuming.

“How’s your head?” Shep asks me, his face full of concern.

“Fine. I’m sorry I messed up your press conference.”

That draws a good chuckle from him. “Messed it up? Because I was having so much fun getting my past dragged out in public?” His sarcasm lightens my heart. “Don’t give it another thought.”

I drag in a halting breath. “Are you going to replace me?”

“It’s your decision,” Shep says quietly. “Do you want Jared and Sasha to give us a moment alone so we can talk?”

Jared whirls around from the window. “You’re going to cut me out of this again? When we don’t even know what’s fucking wrong with you?”

Sasha and Shep exchange glances and Jared doesn’t miss it.
Oh, God. This is going to get ugly.
I immediately realize that Sasha’s updated Shep on what’s really happening with me, but Jared has no clue.

And being out of control is the worst way for him to be.

“I’m going to ask you once more,” Shep says to Jared, his voice dangerously low. “This is about Grace. Not you. Do you want to step outside and take a breather?”

“No.” Jared’s low rumble is full of hurt.

Shep turns to me. “It’s up to you. Do you want to speak in private?”

I look at Jared and his eyes are pleading.
Don’t shut me out.
 

Shep’s offered me a get-out-of-jail-free card, but I can’t take it. I can’t go one more minute with him not knowing.

“Come here.” I beckon Jared to my bedside. Sasha and Shep take a step back; they know what’s coming. Jared stops a couple feet short of the rail on my bed. “Can you … can you hold my hand?”

My plea softens his face and he steps closer, carefully lifting my hand and avoiding the IV tube in the back of it. He holds me like I’m fragile. Like I’m precious to him.

And my heart soars.
This will be OK. The truth will set me free.

“I’m pregnant.”

His dark eyes go wide, his face frozen in surprise. “You’re … really?” His tone is disbelieving. And I’m suddenly fearful. Does he blame me? Does he hate me for this?

I nod.

“How—how long have you known?” Jared whirls around, looking from Shep to Sasha and seeing confirmation in their eyes. He turns back to me, his expression darkening. “And they knew? You told
them
before you told me?”

I blink back tears. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“You didn’t trust me enough to tell me?” Bitterness creeps into his voice. “After everything, you couldn’t even….”

I see the angry set in his jaw and I try to speak, to apologize, but my mouth is full of bile and regret. “I couldn’t—”

“Stop. Don’t make excuses.” His lip curls, a nasty grimace. “I’ve shared everything I am with you. I’ve given you more than you even know, sacrificed my future for you. And you couldn’t trust me with this.” He drops my hand. “Are you even sure I’m the father?”

The question lands like a blow to my gut and I convulse, wrapping my arms around myself for protection. Shep moves between us, his dark eyes fierce and angry with Jared. “How dare you?”

“How dare I
what?
” Jared flings back, his composure disintegrating. “How dare I ask a simple question when I haven’t been getting a straight answer from her for weeks or months?”

The beep on the monitors speeds up. Whooshing fills my ears and my vision blurs.
 

“Think hard,” Shep says, menace in his voice as he steps toward Jared. “Why do you think Grace didn’t tell you sooner? Because she couldn’t trust how you’d react. And right now, you’re giving her every reason not to trust you.”

“I don’t trust
her
.” He jabs his finger in my direction, his voice tight with fury. Our eyes connect and I see him soften for a moment, regret and hurt mixed with his anger. His breath hitches. “I love you, Grace. I let you into my heart. But you cut me out even when you let
them
in. What do you think that does to me?”

Shep takes another step toward Jared, resting a steadying hand on Jared’s shoulder. “Take that breather
now
.” They stare at each other and Sasha and I hold our collective breaths. “Before you say another word, think carefully. I failed my child. I’m not going to let you fail yours.”

Jared spins away from Shep, mistrust radiating from him. He backs toward the door, watching us as if we’re a pack of wolves closing in on him. “You
all
knew. And you kept it from me.”

Jared’s eyes dart around the room and I ache for him, searching for an appeal to somehow appease him. He slams out of the room before I can say a word.

***

Undermined by Lauren and my mother, outgunned by Jackson and Sharp, and now abandoned by Jared, I’m as down as I can be. I blow my nose on a scratchy tissue and cower in the quiet of my hospital room while Sasha and Shep are in whispered conference by the windows.

They’ll replace me. I know it.

They finally break from their sidebar and flank my bed. I search their expressions for pity, but in Shep’s eyes I find regret.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I bow my head, anticipating the verdict. “I understand.”

“I don’t think you do,” Shep says quietly. He pulls the doctor’s stool to my bedside so he can sit at eye level with me. “This isn’t just about you and Jared and your baby. It’s also about my child.”

I sniff and choke back the tears. “You think we’re done? That your child will end our campaign? Because I’m pretty sure when my news comes out it will be far worse.”

Shep shakes his head. “No. For once, this isn’t about what the public thinks. This is about Jared. I’ve hurt him the worst way you can hurt a person. And I don’t think we can recover from it.”

An earthquake shakes my heart. Shakes what I thought I knew about Shep. “You what?”

He bows his head. “I need you to know this, and I’m trusting you with my secret because you’ve trusted me with yours. I need you to understand that I did what I thought was best. But I was young and stupid and too ambitious for my own good.”

The pieces start clicking into place, faster that Shep can get the words out. My mouth drops open but no words come.

“I left Jared’s mother.”

“You—?”

“I left her. Pregnant, and except for her mother, alone. I still had my senior year in college to get through. I had my whole life ahead of me, with plans to leave Kimberling City and Springfield and make a name for myself in politics. A baby, so young, was never part of the plan.”

The conviction in Shep’s voice unravels too many mysteries at once and my mind spins back to all of the clues that add up to this truth.

Jared and Shep’s crinkling brown eyes.

Their deep voices.

Jared’s eleventh-hour scholarship for grad school.

The fact that Shep hand-picked Jared for his first campaign. That he
made
Jared’s reputation as a campaign manager.

That Shep trusts Jared absolutely.

“Everything I’ve done for Jared since I left his mother has been penance for that one stupid mistake. If you can call the worst decision of my life just a mistake. I left Miranda Rankin when she needed me most. By the time I realized I was wrong, she was too hurt and too stubborn to let me back into their lives.”

“He doesn’t know?” I’m reeling from Shep’s confession, from the hurt it will cause Jared. It will skewer him, rock his very foundations.

“No. You were brave to tell me about your child. About the fact that I’ll be a grandfather again. But I was never brave enough to tell Jared what happened forty-three years ago.”