Crashed (Driven, #3)(95)

“He just left for the first time since you’ve been here,” she explains, sensing my fears. “He’s been beside himself and his father was finally able to get him to go stretch his legs for a minute.”

The words fill me with such a sense of relief, shivers dancing over my arms as it hits me that he didn’t leave me. He didn’t leave me. Silly really to even think he would, but we’ve been overloaded with so many things lately and every person has a breaking point.

And mine passed a long time ago.

I finally find my voice and look back up to meet her eyes. “Now is fine.” I have so many questions that need explanations. So many answers that I fear Colton is not going to want to hear. “I’m trying to process everything still.” I swallow as I bite back the tears again. “What…?”

“…happened?” she finishes for me when I don’t continue.

“I was told I could never get pregnant, that the scarring was so …” I’m so shaken, mentally and physically, that I can’t finish my thoughts. They hit my mind like rapid fire so I can’t focus on one for more than a few minutes.

“First off, let me say that I spoke to your OB and reviewed your files and yes, the chance of you being able to carry a fetus, conceive even, was extremely slim.” She shrugs, “But sometimes the human body is resilient … miracles can happen, nature prevails.”

I smile softly, although I know it doesn’t reach my eyes. How was I carrying a life—my baby, a piece of Colton—and I didn’t know it? Didn’t feel it?

“How did I not know? I mean how far along was I? Why did I miscarry? Was it my fault, something I did or was the baby—my baby—never going to make it full term anyway?” The questions come out one after another, running together, because I’m crying now, tears coursing down my face as I wear the vest of guilt over the miscarriage. She just lets me get all of my questions out as she stands there patiently, compassion filling her eyes. “Was this a one-time thing, or is there a possibility that this can happen again? I’m just so overwhelmed,” I admit, my breath hitching. “And I don’t know … I just don’t know what to believe anymore. My head’s swimming …”

“That’s understandable, Rylee. You’ve been through a lot,” she says, shifting her position, and when she does he’s right there leaning against the doorjamb, hands shoved in his pockets, shirt stained with blood—my blood, the baby’s … our baby’s blood—and if I thought the floodgates had burst before, they completely disintegrate at the sight of him.

He’s at my side in an instant, face etched with pain and eyes a war of unfathomable emotions. He reaches out to comfort me and hesitates when he sees my gaze flicker down and focus through my tear blurred vision on the stains of his shirt. Within a flash, he has his jacket off and his shirt over his head, throwing them into the chair before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me into him.

The ugly tears start now. Huge, ragged, hitching sobs that rack through my body as he holds onto me—completely at a loss for what to do to make it better—and lets me cry. His hands move up and down my back as he whispers hushed words that don’t really break through my haze of disbelieved grief.

And there are so many things I feel all at once that I can’t pick a single one out to hold onto. I’m confused, scared, devastated, hollow, shocked, safe, and I feel like so many things have been forever altered.

For me.

Between us.

Hopes, dreams, wants, that were ripped away from me and predetermined by a fate that I never got a say in. And the tears continue to fall as I realize what I’ve lost again. What hopes might just be a possibility I never expected to be able to get back.

And all the while Colton laces my tear stained face with kisses, over and over, trying to replace the pain with compassion, grief with love. He leans his head back and his eyes fuse with mine. We sit there for a moment, eyes saying so many things and lips saying nothing. But the worst part is, besides utter relief, I can’t get a read on what his are telling me.

The only thing I know for sure is that he’s just as lost and confused as I am, but deep down, I fear he feels this way for the exact opposite reason I do.

“Hey,” he says softly as a soft smile tugs up the corner of his mouth. I can feel his hands tremble slightly. “You scared the shit out of me, Ryles.”

“Sorry. Are you okay?” My voice sounds sleepy, sluggish.

Colton looks down and shakes his head with a stilted laugh. “You’re the one in the hospital bed and you ask me if I’m okay?” When he looks up I see the tears welling in his eyes. “Rylee, I …” He stops and blows out a breath, his voice swamped with emotion.

And before he can say anything further there is a knock on the door jamb. It’s Dr. Andrews asking if it’s okay for her to return. Neither of us even realized she had left because we were so absorbed in one another.

“Are you ready for your answers?”

I nod at her, hesitant and yet needing to know. Colton releases me momentarily—the loss of his touch startling to me—as he puts his arms through his sweatshirt. He comes back to take my hand in his as she walks back over to the side of the bed and sighs. “Well, unfortunately nothing I can tell you is concrete because we only had the aftermath of everything to try and piece together. Now that you’re a little more coherent than when we first met, do you mind telling me what you remember?”