Page 63 of Goal Line (Boston Rebels #4)

Chapter Forty-Seven

LUKE

I ’ve never been so glad to get home after a trip as I am tonight. I watch the elevator numbers counting up, each one bringing me closer to holding Eva.

I used this short trip as a test for how I’ll do once the season starts up and I have to travel significantly more.

It could have been worse, but it could have been a whole hell of a lot better, too.

Will I ever get used to being away from her?

Will that aching need I have for her ever subside?

I hope so...and I hope not...at the same time.

When the doors open to the vestibule leading to my condo, I breathe easier.

I remember what it was like to walk into my condo before she lived here.

I loved the space, but there was an emptiness that I never quite got used to.

It looked like it had been plucked from a magazine spread, and it felt fucking lonely.

Eva’s brought a warmth, a sense of home and family, that I hadn’t realized was missing until she was here .

“Honey...I’m home,” I call out, laughing to myself at the silly imitation of a stereotypical, family-friendly TV show.

Silence.

That’s weird. I’d texted her when we were close to landing. Although she’d said it might take some time to extricate herself from the event, that was over an hour ago. She should be back by now.

I pull my phone from my pocket, wishing it hadn’t died before we landed.

The driver who brought me back from the airport didn’t have the kind of charger I needed, and mine was buried somewhere in my bag, which I’d stupidly placed in the trunk.

But it couldn’t have been dead for more than forty-five minutes.

Plugging it into the charging station in the kitchen, I head back toward the bedrooms, thinking Eva’s probably back there, showering or changing after the event.

I pass the guest bedroom that Morgan slept in while I was gone, but it’s empty.

That makes sense, since Eva had said Morgan was packing up while she was getting ready a few hours ago.

But our bedroom is disturbingly silent too, and I feel a chill running down my spine. Why isn’t she home?

I turn and rush back to the kitchen, hoping there’s enough of a charge that I can power up my phone to see any missed calls or texts from her.

Impatiently drumming my fingers on the counter, I wait for the screen to light up, and as soon as I enter my passcode, the screen is inundated with multiple notifications of missed calls.

I tap on the first voicemail from Eva, but only hear the sound of a hangup. There are four messages from Morgan, and as my stomach clenches, I click on the first one .

Luke, it’s Morgan. I’m in an ambulance with Eva. I think her blood pressure spiked when she was leaving the restaurant, and she got sick. Call me when you get this.

I don’t even listen to the others; I just hit the icon to call her back.

“Luke, oh my god,” Morgan says the minute the call connects, undeniable fear in her voice.

“Is she okay?” I ask shakily as my heart pounds faster.

“I think so? They brought us through the ER, but moved us up to labor and delivery almost immediately. Dr. Lowery is on her way in.”

“Can I talk to Eva?”

“Hold on,” she says, and I hear some murmuring in the background. “She’s still kind of out of it. It might be better to wait until you get here.”

She’s too out of it to talk to me? Fear grips my belly, making me almost sick with worry. “Tell her I love her, and I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

“Drive safely, Luke,” Morgan says. “We don’t need you getting in an accident.”

I try to follow her instructions, but I still make it to the hospital in about half the time it should have taken me.

I toss my keys to the valet and rush inside, where the attendant at the desk directs me to the sixth floor while pointing to the elevators.

Feeling like I can’t stay still, I clench and unclench my fists as the elevator stops on multiple floors to let people get on and off.

I swear it’s taking longer to ascend five floors than it did to drive halfway across the city.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse at the desk says as I approach the nurse’s station, “what did you say your wife’s name is? ”

I try not to roll my eyes because I literally just told her through the intercom before she buzzed me in. “Eva Hartmann.”

“We don’t”—she glances over my shoulder like she’s looking for backup—“have an Eva Hartmann in this unit.”

“Is there another labor and delivery unit?”

“No, just the one.”

“Then my wife is here.” I can tell I sound agitated, and I’m sure she’s thinking I’m unhinged, but holy fuck, how do people stay calm in situations like this ?

“She’s not, sir.” The woman’s jaw tenses as she reaches for the phone.

“ I need to find my wife! ”

“And I need you to calm down?—”

“Luke!” Dr. Lowery’s voice is a sharp bark from my left, and I glance down the hall to see her peeking her head out of a room. “We’re down here.”

“See,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at the nurse as I turn and walk down the hall.

Dr. Lowery steps fully into the hallway and holds her hand out, telling me to stop before I can turn into Eva’s room. “Labor and delivery is a locked unit for a reason. Why are you acting like someone who’s trying to break in?”

“They kept telling me they didn’t have an Eva Hartmann here.”

“They don’t. Her name in our records is Evangeline Wilcott.”

I drop my chin to my chest, shake my head and take a deep breath, recognizing that I really was acting unhinged.

If I’d stopped and thought about it for two seconds, I’d have remembered that we used Eva’s maiden name when we added her to my insurance because we hadn’t received our marriage certificate so we couldn’t confirm her new last name yet.

And of course they had her full first name.

I release a heavy breath. “Sorry.”

“It’s understandable that you’re upset, but I need you to get yourself under control before you come in and see Eva.”

“Is she okay? What happened?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Now, if you’ll calmly come in”—she rolls her eyes but gives me a slight smile—“maybe I can finish doing just that.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior, just let me see my wife,” I say with a groan.

When she moves aside to let me through the door, my eyes meet Eva’s before I take two quick strides to her side. I scan her body, noticing the wires running from her exposed belly to the monitors beside the bed, the IV in her arm, and the blanket draped across her lap.

I bend to press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in her peach scent and reminding myself that she’s in the best place to get whatever care she might need.

“Stop being so dramatic. I’m fine,” she tells me, rolling her eyes at me like she’s trying to assure me I’m overreacting. I’m pretty sure I’m not.

“Are you, though?” I cup her cheeks in my palm and press another kiss on her forehead. “I’m so damn relieved that you appear fine, but what happened?”

Eva recounts her headache followed by the nausea she felt when she left the restaurant. “I was having trouble thinking because of the headache, so I sat down and called you, and then Morgan. But then I started to feel dizzy, so I laid down. That’s all I remember.”

“I came running down Newbury Street, as fast as I could in my flip-flops, already on the phone with 911,” Morgan adds. “And I found her lying, completely disoriented, on a bench. Luckily, the EMTs showed up within a few minutes.”

The mental image of her lying there like that is the stuff of my nightmares, and makes me wonder if I’ll ever again be able to force myself to leave her side.

“You did the right thing getting an ambulance there as quickly as possible,” Dr. Lowery tells Morgan, before turning toward Eva.

“It’s clear that your blood pressure spiked pretty significantly, but it doesn’t sound like you had a hypertensive seizure, which is fortunate.

Preeclampsia, the condition that causes this, is serious, however.

We’re going to get you started on a magnesium drip and increase your blood pressure meds.

I’m also going to run some more tests and admit you, so that we can monitor you and the baby until you deliver. ”

“Deliver? When?” Eva’s voice is tight, her eyes widening.

“We’ll see how you do. For now, the baby will need two doses of steroids, twenty-four hours apart, to begin strengthening her lungs should an early delivery be necessary. I’m hoping we can get you through the week?—”

“Is it safe to deliver this early?” I can’t keep the panic from seeping into my words.

“Premature delivery is never ideal,” Dr. Lowery says.

“But ultimately, we have to weigh the risk of an early delivery against the risk of waiting, for both mom and baby. We’ll keep a close eye on your blood pressure and monitor the baby.

We won’t deliver unless it’s the safest option for both of you. ”

My wife’s eyes well up with tears, but she gives the doctor a nod. I assume that, like me, she had never considered finding herself in this situation. She’s young and healthy. She eats well, exercises, and is trying to keep her life as stress free as possible.

What the hell happened in the restaurant to trigger such a reaction?

“The nurse will be back in to get the magnesium and steroids started, and then we’ll run those tests I mentioned. It’s good that you’re here, Eva. You and the baby will be under close and constant observation so we can keep you both safe. I hope that reassures you.”

Eva presses her lips together, brushes her tears aside, and nods again. I reach over to brush a wayward strand of hair from her forehead.

“You’re safe. The baby is safe. That’s all that matters, Evie,” I remind her. But I can see in her eyes that there’s some piece of the story I still don’t know.