Page 57

I remember.

He found me and dragged me into the trees.

My face.

My stomach.

My baby.

What happened to my baby?

My hand makes jerking movements until it’s covering the area of my torso that throbs.

I don’t know what happened, but I can feel the difference. My baby’s gone.

After what feels like forever, my eyes finally blink open. The world is blurry, but each time I blink it becomes more focused.

First, I see my mom’s blue hair. There’s no denying her blue shade. She’s leaning against someone. My dad. I blink again and see the worry lines around his eyes and the way he’s holding my mom together.

“Mom? Dad?” I rasp out.

Blinking again, I see their heads pop up before they lean close and take my hand in theirs.

“Baby girl,” my dad sighs out. “You’ve had us so worried.”

I tug at their hands and place them lightly over my deflated stomach. “Where’s my baby?”

My dad brings our hands up to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “She’s fine. She’s in the PICU waiting to meet her mom.”

I watch as my mom hits the red button on my bed. A moment later a voice calls out into the room. “Yes,” a stern, but feminine voice rings out.

“My daughter’s awake and talking.” She says this as if I’ve been awake before but didn’t speak.

“Okay, I’ll inform the doctor and he’ll be in soon.”

“Where’s Beck?” He was at the game. He must be so scared.

“He’s with my mom and dad,” I hear a rumble from beside me.

Turning my head carefully, I see Max sitting on the other side of the bed. He has dark slashes under his eyes that make it look like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Max,” I rasp out. I lift my hand, wanting to touch his face, but the tubes in my hand tug when I move, so I stop. “Come closer.”

He leans in, but it’s not enough.

“Why won’t you move closer?” I whisper, wanting to feel the scruff on his face.

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.” His fingers twitch over mine.

“I want to touch your face. You look so…” I don’t want to tell him how worried and bad he looks when I have no idea how long I’ve been here.

“You can say bad. Awful, even. I haven’t slept in two days. Neither have your parents. We’ve been so worried about you. The doctors couldn’t explain why you wouldn’t wake up.”

“I’ve been here for two days?” I ask as I try to sit up. But there’s a sharp pain on one side along with my whole stomach. I’m weak and it feels like my stomach has no muscles to use. No matter how hard I try there’s nothing but pain.

Mom stands and pushes me down gently. “No, no, no, honey. Lay back. You have to take it easy.”

“What’s wrong with me?” I look at each of them, waiting for them to tell me the damage Bradley inflicted upon me.