Page 123 of Dirty Mechanic

The nausea returns.

My stomach twists so hard I think I might throw up. The word relationship feels like poison in my mouth—too small to hold the bruises, too tidy to explain the cage I lived in. My vision blurs for half a second, and I grip the bedsheet like it might keep me from unraveling.

“I will,” I say, even as the words drag thorns across my throat.

“I want to go see Blake.” Derek sits up, but the cuff yanks him short.

The door opens again, and Misty’s wheeled in by an officer. Her leg is casted, arm in a sling, and one wrist shackled to the chair. The officer hovers in the doorway like he’s guarding a crime scene.

“I was just there. There’s no change,” Misty says. Her smile is brave, but her eyes—raw and red—betray her.

“Blake…” I breathe out broken, and jagged.

“There’s no change?” Derek asks.

She shakes her head.

I can’t hold back. The tears fall, hot and fast.

“And you?” I whisper as Caroline parks Misty’s wheelchair closer to my bed. “How are you holding up?

She swallows hard, eyes shimmering with grief she can’t quite contain.

“I lost our baby.” Her hand moves to her belly—empty now. A ghost of what could’ve been.

Time stops.

She closes her eyes for a beat. And for that heartbeat, she looks fragile enough to shatter.

Derek flinches beside me. I swear I hear something crack inside him. A grandchild gone before he learned what it felt like to hold that future in his hands.

Loss swells in my throat, thick and unspoken. I blink hard, but it doesn’t stop the heat behind my eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” I choke out, reaching for her. Our fingers lock.

Misty’s tears fall too fast to hide, but she swipes them away, shoulders straightening.

“I’ll be okay.”

She’s lying. That kind of grief doesn’t settle overnight, but I nod anyway.

The silence between us grows thick—grief curling into the corners of the room like smoke that won’t clear. None of us know what to say next, and maybe there’s nothing left to say. Just the weight of too much loss pressing down, waiting for something else to break.

Caroline clears her throat. “The trust disbursement is paused until your marriage is legally recognized,” she says, voice clipped. “And Derek—your loan payment is due today.”

I watch him go still. Not just quiet—still, like a wire pulled too tight. His jaw clenches. His shoulders lock. I swear I can hear his pulse thundering across the room. Pressure clamps down on my chest, like a vise closing around everything we’ve built. The bakery. The orchard. The future we just started dreaming out loud. All of it sputtering like an engine one breath away from stalling out.

Misty shifts, digs into her hoodie pocket, and pulls out an envelope, handing it to Derek.

“I paid it all off this morning.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Family’s worth more than debt.” Her voice cracks, but she pushes on. “You two need a fighting chance. And Blake might need that money to fight, too. The money from the land Huntz left should go to something good. I never wanted it, but if I’m gone… I won’t need it.”

“Gone?” Annabelle lifts.

Misty hesitates, her gaze falling to her lap. “After the hearing and once I’m cleared, I’m leaving town for a bit,” she says quietly. “I’m scared to stay. Rick knows I’m Skylar Bishop. Part of me thinks I need to leave—go somewhere safe, at least until Rick is found. But I can’t stand the thought of leaving Blake’s side right now. I… I feel lost. I don't know what to do.”