Crashed(book three)(142)

“We’re guessing around twelve to fourteen weeks,” she says, and I squeeze my eyes shut trying to comprehend what she’s telling me. Colton’s fingers tense around mine, and I hear him exhale a controlled but uneven breath. She waits a beat to let everything sink in before continuing. “From what we can tell, you either experienced a placental abruption or a complete previa where the vessels burst.”

“And what does that mean?”

“By the time you were admitted, the bleeding was so extensive and so far advanced we can only guess as to the cause. We are assuming it was a previa because we rarely see an abruption this early on in a pregnancy unless there is some sort of violent trauma to the abdomen and …”

She keeps talking but I don’t hear another word, and neither does Colton, because he’s off of my bed in an instant, legs pacing, body vibrating with negative energy, and anger etched in the lines of his face.

And it’s so much easier for me to focus on him and the explosion of emotions on his face than my own. My overwhelmed brain thinks that by looking at him, I don’t have to face how I feel. I don’t have to wonder if I pushed Zander’s dad a little too hard, a little too much, and I am the reason this all happened.

Dr. Andrews looks at him and then back at me, concern in her eyes, as I relay the events of the day. Each time I mention Zander’s father hitting me, I can physically see Colton’s agitation increase. I don’t know what this is doing to Colton, not sure where exactly his head is or how much more he can take, and I’m afraid of so many things because I know how I feel.

“That very well could have been the cause—the trigger of everything—that led to the miscarriage,” she says after a few seconds.

I squeeze my eyes shut momentarily and force a swallow down as Colton barks out a curse under his breath, his body still restless, his hands clenching into fists. And I study him, trying to read the emotions flickering through his eyes before he stops and looks at me. “I need a f*cking minute,” he says before turning and barreling out of the doorway.

Tears return and I know I’m an emotional mess, know that I’m not thinking clearly when the notion flickers through my mind that Colton’s mad at me for being pregnant, not because the loss of our child. I immediately push the thought away—hate myself for even thinking it—but on the heels of the past few weeks and everything we’ve been through, I can’t help it. And then that thought causes so many more to spiral out of control that I have to tell myself to get a grip. That Colton cares about me, wouldn’t walk away from me because of something like this. I force myself to focus on answers and not the unknown.

And without another thought, the next question is off of my tongue and hanging in the air still vibrating with Colton’s anger. “Is it possible for … can I get pregnant again? Would I be able to carry to term?”

She looks at me, sympathy flashing over her stoic face, a sigh on her lips, and tears welling in her eyes. “Possible?” She repeats the word back to me and closes her eyes for a moment as she gently shakes her head back and forth. She reaches out and grabs my hands in hers and just stares at me for a moment. “This wasn’t supposed to be possible, Rylee.” Her voice breaks, my grief and disbelief obviously affecting her.

“I’d hope fate wouldn’t be cruel enough to do this to you two times and not give you another chance.” She quickly dashes away a tear that falls and sniffles. “Sometimes hope is the most powerful medicine of all.”



I can feel him before I even open my eyes, know he is sitting beside me. The man who waits for no one is waiting patiently for me. My body sighs softly into the thought and then my heart wrings at the thought of a little boy lost forever to me—dark hair, green eyes, freckled nose, mischievous grin—and when I open my eyes, the same eyes in my imagination meet mine.