Page 32

Chapter 31

J umping out of the car as it rolls to a stop in front of the emergency room, I dash inside without waiting for Eli to park the truck. The moment I step into the lobby, my eyes land on Jace, pacing with a worried look twisting his features.

“Jace?! What happened to Allie?” I rush toward him, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush.

“Tessa, she’s in a bad way,” he says, his voice thick with distress. “Her place is only a few houses down from mine. I was working on my boat when I heard shouting. A few seconds later, I heard her scream.” His voice cracks, and he swallows hard, eyes glassy. “I ran over, but the door was locked, so I kicked it in. Found her lying there—unconscious, her head bleeding.” He looks down, his breath shallow. “She looked so pale. So broken.”

The weight of his words hits me like a punch to the stomach.

“Dalton,” I mutter through clenched teeth, rage swelling inside me. I push it down. Now is not the time. Not yet.

“There was someone leaving out the back door when I got there. I wanted to chase after them, but I had to get help for Allie. It had to have been that bastard.” His eyes flicker with anger, then darken with worry again.

“Have you heard anything? Any updates?” I press, desperate for any information.

“No,” Jace shakes his head, frustration etched across his face. “They won’t tell me anything because I’m not family.”

Eli appears in the lobby then, his heavy boots echoing against the tile. I approach the nurses’ desk, where the triage nurse looks disinterested, her eyes glued to her phone.

“Can you please provide an update on Allie Walker?” I ask, my voice sharp.

“Are you family?” she responds without even glancing up, her tone flat.

“Sarah,” I deadpan, my eyes narrowing.

Her gaze snaps up, recognition dawning in her features. She stammers, “D-Dr. Sparks, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.” She hastily reaches for a button and buzzes me through. “I’ll let you back to see the doctor. I think she’s in radiology right now.”

I glance at Eli. He gives me a reassuring nod and gently guides Jace to a chair.

Rushing down the hallway, I push open the door to the doctor’s lounge. John is at the table, casually sipping his coffee, but his grim expression falters when he sees me.

“Tessa. I suppose I know why you’re here,” he says, his voice heavy with concern.

“How is she? Please, tell me what her status is.” My voice trembles, betraying the panic I’m barely keeping in check.

A frown deepens across his face as he scans the chart. “Allie is in CT right now. She sustained a contusion to the temporal lobe, and she needed a couple of staples. However, what I’m most concerned about is hemorrhage or cerebral edema. She was unconscious for a while, but she’s awake now. The best-case scenario is that she has a concussion. We’ll know more soon.”

I nod, attempting to absorb the information, but my mind is racing with worst-case scenarios.

“John, Allie’s pregnant.”

His eyes soften with understanding, and he sighs. “Yes, she told us when she got here. I need to let you know she also suffered injuries to her abdomen. I’ve ordered blood work, and we’ll do an ultrasound once we’re confident she’s stable.”

Just then, Sarah pops her head into the lounge, a little sheepish. “Doc, the patient in room four is back from radiology.”

“Thanks, Sarah.” He looks at me, his expression tightening. “Go be with her. Let me know if she needs anything. I’ll keep you updated once we get the results.”

I nod quickly and rush down the hall to the trauma room where Allie is being kept. Worry and fear churn in my stomach, both equally heavy. The nature of my job has always demanded objectivity, emotional detachment when caring for my patients. I’ve prided myself on my ability to compartmentalize, to keep my personal feelings locked away—but with Allie, it’s like a dam breaking. The emotions flood in, and I can’t contain them.

Entering the room, my breath catches in my throat at the sight of her. Her body, so still and fragile. Tears sting my eyes, and I try to swallow the lump in my throat. A bandage covers her left temple, swelling already beginning to form beneath it. Her skin is pale, almost translucent. She looks so small.

An IV line winds into her left hand, while a nasal cannula delivers oxygen into her body. The steady beeping of the machines echoes, a haunting reminder of her fragile condition.

I pull up a chair and sit beside her, reaching for her right hand. She stirs, and her eyes flutter open, clouded with confusion.

“Tess?” she whispers, her voice barely audible, but I hear the fear in it.

“Alls, I’m here. I’m right here.” I squeeze her hand, and we sit in silence. She closes her eyes again, squeezing my hand so tightly I feel the pressure all the way to my bones.

I’m awakened by a hand on my shoulder, and I find Eli standing beside me, holding a cup of coffee in each hand. He passes one to me, and I take a quick sip, and I check on Allie. Her eyes are closed, and she lets out a whimper before gasping as she wakes. The sudden beeping of the machine startles all of us, and she shifts her gaze, scanning the room, taking in Eli’s presence before turning to face me.

Fear flickers across her face as she grips the edge of the bed, and her breath comes in shallow bursts. “Tess, something’s wrong.”

A nurse and a radiology tech enter the room then. The nurse quickly checks her vitals, adjusting the IV, while the tech prepares for the abdominal ultrasound.

“The obstetrician will be here soon, dear,” the nurse says in a calm tone .

Eli’s voice is steady, but his eyes betray his concern. “I’ll be right outside.” He places a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

I nod up at him, “okay, thank you.”

I help the nurse adjust Allie’s gown, and my breath catches in my throat when I see the bruising blossoming on her abdomen, vivid and darkening by the second. The tech meets my eyes, a quiet understanding passing between us before she applies a thick layer of ultrasound gel.

Allie’s body tenses at the sensation, and I grip her hand tighter. Her knuckles whiten as she winces in pain. We both watch the screen intently, anxiety squeezing the air out of the room.

A knock at the door interrupts the silence, and Dr. Ross walks in, carrying Allie’s chart.

The moment Dr. Ross begins her work, I can’t look away from the screen. My breath catches as we wait for the rhythmic sound of a heartbeat, but instead, we’re met with silence.

“Dr. Ross,” I say urgently, my voice shaky. “Please, take another look.”

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay with my baby?” Allie’s voice breaks, and I can’t stop the tear that falls from my eye.

Dr. Ross adjusts the transducer, her eyes scanning the screen with intensity. After a long moment, she lowers it with a heavy sigh.

“Allie, I’m so sorry to tell you, but there’s no detectable heartbeat,” Dr. Ross says, her voice soft but firm. “Your labs show you’re suffering a miscarriage.”

“No. No! You have to check again. Please, it must be a mistake!” Allie’s cry is raw, a soul-deep wail that cracks my heart in two .

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. There’s no mistake,” Dr. Ross says, her voice gentle but resolute.

Tears pour down Allie’s face as she releases another mournful cry. I lean over, my arms around her as I try to offer her comfort, though I can hardly breathe through my own sorrow.

“I’m so sorry, Alls,” I whisper, the words a feeble attempt to ease her pain. Sobs wrack her body, and mine follows.

“I’ll have the nurse bring her a sedative,” Dr. Ross says quietly, before turning to leave.

Allie’s cat scan comes back clear—no internal bleeding on her brain, just a concussion. They plan to keep her overnight for observation. After the Ativan takes effect, she calms down, and her body finally relaxes into sleep.

Eli and Jace come in to check on her, each trying to ensure she’s okay, but I can’t bring myself to leave her side. I’m terrified of what might happen if I do.

A sheriff’s deputy arrives to take statements from Jace and Allie. Despite their efforts, authorities are still unable to track down Dalton, who has an active warrant out for his arrest.

The nurse enters with a tray of food—chicken soup and Jello—but Allie barely acknowledges it, staring blankly at the tray.

“Allie, you need to eat something,” I coax, my voice gentle.

She shakes her head, her eyes distant as she turns to gaze out the window.

She whispers so softly, I can barely hear her. “It was Dalton.”

“I know,” I reply, my voice steady. “I heard what you told the deputy.”

Allie’s head whips back in my direction, her eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. Her tone sharp and frantic as she speaks. Each word slicing through the air with a desperate urgency. “No, it was Dalton. H–he was the one at the lake that night. Dalton and Wilson. Wilson was the one who threatened me and my family.” Slowly shaking my head, shock floods my system as my mind struggles to process her words, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Oh my god, they’re the ones who took Paisley.”