Can't Look Away(112)
“Moo.” Her mother’s voice is smooth and soft. “Can you hear me?”
She nods. The pain spreads lower, down through her abdomen and pelvis. Everything hurts. She wrestles her way through the cloudiness, fighting to remember. And suddenly, it comes back, all of it, rushing into her consciousness like the memory of a nightmare. Except that it was real.
“How long was I out?” Molly’s voice is slow, creaky. She sees Andrew, perched in a chair behind her mother. He smiles and scoots forward.
“Just a few hours,” her mom says. “You’re in the hospital, honey. Oh, Moo, I’m so relieved you’re awake. They said you’d wake up soon, but we’ve been so worried. It was a bad fall you had.”
“Hey, Molls.” Andrew reaches over, squeezes her hand.
“Hey, Andy.” Molly gives a small smile. “Is Stella—” Her voice cracks. She has so many questions, she doesn’t know where to start. “Are Stella and Hunter—”
“They’re fine. They’re at home.” Her mother blinks. “Hunter was here for a while. He left about an hour ago to get Stella from Becky’s.”
“Hunter was here?” Molly can’t believe it. She remembers the look on his face at the party, the way he’d stopped mid-step when Sabrina revealed what Molly had done. The unforgivable crime she’s committed against their marriage, the vows she has broken. Molly feels heavy with shame.
“And Stella? Was she here, too? Does she know what happened? Did she … did she hear the things Sabrina said?”
Molly’s mother shakes her head. “Stella has been at Becky’s through all this.” She pauses. “And no, she didn’t register what Sabrina said about … her father. All she knows is that you and Sabrina had a fight and that you bumped your head and had to see a doctor.”
“Oh, Mom. I’m so sorry. You must think—”
“Shh. Let’s not worry about all that now. I don’t think anything except I love you and I’m so glad you’re all right.”
Molly exhales, relieved, at least, that Stella doesn’t know about her and Jake. “My head is killing me, Mom. But I’m all right? They said I’m all right?”
Her mother is quiet for several moments. “The doctors said it could have been much worse. You’ve got a concussion and a few bruised ribs. But, Moo…” She hesitates. “Hunter should be the one to tell you, but I…” Her mother’s voice cracks. Her eyes are glossy.
“What—no—what is it?” Molly’s breath slips from her throat. Panic takes over, edging toward hysteria. “Tell me. Please, tell me!”
Her mother’s eyes are suddenly full of tears. “I’m so sorry, Moo. The doctors said you were very lucky not to be in worse condition, but the baby…”
Molly doesn’t hear the rest. She feels as though she’s falling all over again—her body pitching forward, scraping rock and gathering speed as the steepness of the steps increases—except at the bottom there isn’t the soft relief of grass but a dark, vacuous pit of nothingness that swallows her whole. She will fall forever. Her heart has stopped, she knows. There isn’t air to breathe.
Her mother’s arms are around her, cradling her head as she shakes uncontrollably. She cries so hard she can’t see. She thinks of Hunter. Their baby. Their tiny, miracle baby. Their last embryo. And Molly knows it’s true. She feels it. Searing emptiness where the soft weight of a promise had been.
Molly cries until her throat is raw, until her eyes are swollen slits. Her heart feels dead. She thinks of the fall. She thinks of how different things would be, if only she hadn’t invited Sabrina to Stella’s party. If she’d never gone over there for dinner back in May. If Sabrina hadn’t walked into her yoga class. Molly knows pain, she knows regret, but not like this.
She isn’t aware that she’s fallen asleep until she wakes up and her mother and Andrew are gone. In their place is the shadowy form of someone else. A man. She blinks into the dimness of the room, willing it to be Hunter, but as her eyes adjust to the light, she sees that it’s Jake. He sits in the chair by her bed, hands resting in his lap. It must be nighttime; there isn’t any light left through the curtains.
Jake looks as demolished as she feels. His curls are tousled, untamed. The sight of him fills Molly with a clashing mix of emotions. Buried in there, a tinge of relief. She manages a sad smile.
“Moll.” His voice is husky and weak. “I’m so sorry.”
The space above her left eye throbs with pain, but it’s nothing compared to her heart. She reaches for the glass on her bedside table, takes a small sip of water. “I’m sorry, too.”
“I heard what happened. God, Molly. I don’t have the right words.”
She sits up a little, leaning back into the stiff hospital pillows. “Neither do I. I feel empty, Jake.”
“Moll.” He slides his hand forward, resting his fingers on her open palm. “I can’t believe…” His eyes search hers. “Stella is my kid.”
She meets his gaze, nodding gently. “I should have told you. I’m sure you’re furious.”
“I don’t know what I am.” He gives his head a small shake. “But I don’t feel angry.”