Page 34

Chapter Thirty

Roman

L ast night, I decided to wait until today to stop by her place. After having several beers, I didn’t want to show up tipsy and say something stupid.

So, here I stand, at her door, on my way back from a run. It’s as good of a time as any to see if she’s feeling better. I just hope the guys are right and I overreacted.

I beat my knuckles against the door. After a moment of no response, my heart sinks into my chest. Is she not home? My mind starts to race with all the possibilities again, doubt creeping in, and then I hear a scream come from inside her apartment.

“Eva,” I shout.

Instinct kicks in. I turn the knob, and the door, unlocked, swings open.

I follow the crying and groaning to the family room, where I spot her on the couch, holding her stomach.

“Eva.” I run to her.

She is hunched over the side of the couch, looking like she’s in serious pain.

“What’s wrong?” I place a hand on her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Tears stream down her cheeks. There’s pure panic in her green eyes that cut down to my soul.

“My stomach. It hurts so bad.”

“Have you seen a doctor yet?”

I’m completely out of my element. I don’t know what amount of pain is appropriate before you go to the emergency room, but if she isn’t there, she’s damn close.

“No,” she whimpers. Sweat is pouring down her forehead. I do my best to wipe some of it off. “I need to go to the emergency room, Roman.”

“Okay. Okay. I can get you there faster than an ambulance. Here.” I lift her up to a sitting position. “I’ll carry you to the car.”

“Roman, wait.” She stops me.

“Roman …” Her voice shakes as more tears begin to fall. “I’m … pregnant. This … what if it’s our baby?”

Pregnant?

The word hits me straight in the gut. Mine. Our baby.

And she’s curled up on the couch in more pain than I have ever seen etched on her face.

I don’t even know how to process this—she’s carrying our baby, she kept it from me, and what the hell is happening to her body at this moment?

None of the other things matter right now. A rush of protectiveness hits me, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. Part of me wants to drop to my knees right here in front of her and beg for her and the baby to be okay.

I want to crumble at the idea of losing both of them.

Please don’t let this be the worst moment of my life. Don’t let me lose them before I even get the chance to deserve them.

“It’s okay, baby.” I kiss her forehead. “We’re going to the hospital. Everything is going to be okay.”

I place an arm under her legs and around her waist and lift her up. I can feel her heart racing against her rib cage. I want to panic right there with her, but I have to hold it together. I’m her man; I’m the father. I have to be strong.

She leans her head on my chest while we ride the elevator down.

Her body starts to tremble as she cries. “It hurts so bad.”

Dammit! This isn’t happening.

I repeat to her a million times along the way that everything is going to be okay. Not because I have the slightest clue what’s going to happen, but because it just has to be. I cannot picture another alternative that wouldn’t completely destroy every fiber of my being.

I lay her down in my passenger seat, then grab the seat belt and click her in. Then I run around the car and get in as fast as I can. The nearest hospital is fifteen minutes away, as long as traffic behaves.

I send a text to Lincoln, begging him to meet me at the front of the emergency room at the hospital we’re going to. I don’t want to send Eva in by herself while I deal with parking my car.

Driving in the city means times varying anywhere from fifteen to forty-five minutes. If I have to, I’ll ditch my car and carry her the rest of the way.

I pull out of the parking garage, and she leans to her left and rests her head on the center console. She reaches her hand up to my thigh while she whimpers.

I grab her hand in mine and squeeze it tight. “Just squeeze my hand, baby. Take that pain out of me.”

She clutches my hand hard in response.

“Good girl. We’ll be there soon.”

Thankfully, Lincoln responds and tells me he’s on it. He can be there in ten minutes.

I weave in and out of traffic and honk at almost every single person that dares to try and cut in front of me. After several threats of life and F-bombs, Eva steps in.

“Roman, I can’t have you getting arrested before we make it there. Try to calm down,” she cries.

“Right,” I reply, though there is no way I can do that. “I’m sorry. We’re two blocks away.”

We finally make it to the hospital. I cut the wheel quickly and drive up to the drop-off.

Lincoln comes running up to us. He claps my arm. “I’ve got this. Keep me updated, man. I’ll be praying for you guys.”

“Thanks,” I shout as I dash around the car and open the passenger door. “Step out of the car, baby. I’ll carry you in.”

Her face scrunches in pain while she places her feet on the pavement. I grab her hands to pull her to a standing position.

Lincoln is already in the car and ready to drive away. I see the concern written all over his face. He knows this isn’t good. Whatever is causing her this kind of pain isn’t something minor.

I lift her back into my arms, where she belongs, and close the car door. I rush through the main doors and directly up to the desk. Eva is groaning and showing no signs of the pain letting up. Then her head gives out and collapses on my chest.

“I need help—now!” I shout at the woman behind the desk.

She hops out of her chair so quickly that it topples over behind her, and then she picks up her phone. “Trauma in the lobby.”

In seconds, nurses in scrubs come running out with a gurney. It all happens so fast. They help me lay her down and begin to wheel her back. I jog to keep up with them.

“What happened?” one of them asks.

“I don’t know. She’s been in extreme pain, her stomach, and then she just passed out.” Tears fill in my eyes as I look down at her motionless body. “She’s pregnant,” I cry.

They share a look with one another. Not one that is comforting.

My vision begins to blur as more tears continue to flow. I haven’t cried since I was a kid. Nothing has been worth my tears—until Eva.

I watch as the nurses check her vitals and park her gurney. A doctor comes running in.

“Abdominal pain, pregnant, low blood pressure, elevated heart, oxygen saturation normal. Normal temperature.”

“Ultrasound and CBC stat,” the doctor orders.

“Sir, we need space to stabilize and work on her. If you could go to the waiting room, we will update you as soon as we can.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say sternly.

I can’t just leave her alone like this.

One of the nurses begins to work on an IV while the doctor listens to Eva’s breathing. Then I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turn around to see the woman from the front desk.

“It’s okay. She’s in good hands. They need space to work. You don’t want to get in the way.”

I let her pull me away from the two most important people in my life, not knowing if either of them will be okay. She leads me to the waiting room, where she places me in a chair.

“Is there anybody I can call for you? It helps to not be alone,” she asks kindly, but I barely register her words.

I just left my heart in the other room.

I look up at her. “No. Thank you,” I reply.

She smiles, then rubs my shoulder. “They will come back as soon as they have information,” she says, then walks away.

Somehow, everything falls into place as I sit here, waiting to find out what’s happening to the woman I love.

It’s funny how the threat of losing her can put everything into perspective. Just last month, I was hiding in her bathroom at the mention of the word. Now, the words are stuck inside of my body, and all I want to do is announce them to her, to everybody we know.

I want to be with her. She is the only thing that matters anymore. The empire I’ve been trying to build is insignificant compared to her. I would walk away from all of it just to have her and our baby be okay.

I’m going to be a father. I was never able to picture myself as one. Truth be told, I wouldn’t allow myself to picture it. The mere idea of destroying my family stopped me from letting myself believe that I deserved one. But I don’t need to dream one up. I have one. Here. Now.

And they are both out of my sight and fighting for their lives.

I rest my elbows on my knees and let my head fall into my hands as my chest feels like it cracks open. A guttural sob tears from my heart, ragged and broken, like something that has been buried for far too long.

My chest heaves in and out as the emotions take over every ounce of my body.

When a hand grips my shoulder, I look up through the thick of my breakdown. Lincoln and Sawyer are standing there.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice shaky and weak.

They each take a seat in the chairs next to me.

“We aren’t going to let you go through this alone,” Lincoln says. “Tell us what’s going on.”

I lean back in my chair and rub my eyes with the palms of my hands. “I don’t know. They kicked me out.”

“What was happening that made you bring her here?” Sawyer clarifies.

“When I showed up at her place, she was screaming in pain. Her stomach. She just found out she’s pregnant … with my baby.”

“She’s in good hands,” Lincoln says softly.

“That doesn’t always mean everything will be okay,” I choke out.

Neither of them responds. They know I’m right. Nobody can promise me that both will be safe. They get comfortable in their seats, and we sit together as the emergency-room hustle and bustle plays out in front of us.

I don’t know how long we wait, but they stay by my side. It helps. Knowing I’m not alone in this.

I’m lucky that both of them are still willing to support me, knowing that I’m betraying one of our best friends. They could have decided they wanted no part of this secret.

It dawns on me. Walker’s sister is back there, possibly fighting for her life.

“I need to call him,” I say out loud.

“It’s probably best. That’s his sister,” Sawyer agrees.

“He’s going to hate me.”

“He’s hotheaded. He’ll get over it,” Lincoln replies.

There’s a possibility he won’t. Especially if something happens to his sister. It would be all my fault. I would be the reason his sister lost her life. At least, that’s exactly how he would see it. I wouldn’t blame him.

I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone. There’s no way I can text him. I’m not a coward.

“Don’t tell him about the baby or your relationship over the phone,” Lincoln adds.

I glance up at him. “Why not?”

He shrugs. “I just think you can save that part. It’ll be better when you’re face-to-face. Right now, he just needs to know you found her in extreme pain and you’re at the emergency room.”

“I agree,” Sawyer inserts. “There’s no need to have him rushing here in a fit of anger anyway. It’s not safe for anyone.”

I nod my head, then dial his number.

He picks up quickly. “Roman’s calling me on the phone. This’d better be good.”

“Walker.” My voice cracks.

“Shit, is everything all right, man?”

No, nothing is right. Everything is falling to shit, and it’s all of my fault.

“It’s Eva.”

“Eva? What do you mean?” I can hear the panic in his voice.

“I stopped by her apartment today. She was screaming in pain. We’re at the hospital. I’m waiting.” I sigh, every word weighted with exhaustion. “Just waiting for a doctor to tell me what’s going on.”

“What hospital?” he demands.

I tell him the hospital we’re at, and the phone goes silent. I look down and see that the call ended.

“He hung up,” I relay to the guys.

“You did the right thing,” Lincoln says. “We’ll be here when he shows up.”

The doctor who was working on Eva steps out into the waiting room. I sit up straight as his eyes scan the room. When they land on mine, he starts walking in my direction.

I try to read his body language. Does it look like one that a doctor would hold if he was going to deliver bad news? My stomach churns like it could dispose of everything inside of it at any moment.

“Mr. …” the doctor starts.

“Roman. Call me Roman.”

He nods. “Roman. She’s awake now. We’re waiting on the blood work and scans to come back. She’s stable. We gave her some pain medication to keep her comfortable. We should know more in the next hour.”

“And the baby?” I ask, rubbing my hands over my thighs nervously.

“This early in the pregnancy, we can’t detect a heartbeat. We took her blood work. When that comes back, we’ll have a better idea. But we will need to wait a couple of days and check again to make sure the pregnancy is progressing.”

Lincoln’s hand rubs my back. “That’s good news. Right now, focus on Eva being safe. Her body will fight for the baby.”

“When can I see her?” I ask.

“She’s asking for you. We are just getting her transferred to a room. We will let you know when she’s there and you can go straight in to see her.”

“Thank you,” I reply.

The doctor walks away, and I slouch back into my chair. Eva’s safe … for now. They still don’t know what is wrong. The idea of waiting days to know if my baby is safe leaves me feeling completely defeated.

It’s like I’m already failing as a father.