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"Everly?" Vail's voice through the door. "What's wrong?"
"I'm bleeding," I sob. "Oh God, I'm bleeding."
The door bursts open.
Vail takes one look and snaps into EMT mode.
"How much? How long?"
"Just started. But it's..." Another cramp hits, stealing my breath. "It's bad."
"We need to get you to the hospital," she says. "Now."
"But Regnor?—"
"Will meet us there." She's already calling for Gwen. "We need to go now, Everly. The baby?—"
The baby.
The tiny life I've been protecting.
The future we've been building on lies and hope.
"Please," I whisper to the universe, to God, to anyone listening. "Please don't take this baby. It's all I have left."
But the blood keeps coming.
And Regnor's not here.
And I'm terrified that by the time he comes back, there won't be a baby to protect anymore.
"Stay with me," Vail orders as Gwen appears with keys. "We're going to take care of you. Both of you."
But as another cramp tears through me, I'm not sure there's anything left to save.
The last thing I think before Vail helps me to the car is how cruel the universe is.
To let me think I could have this—a family, a future, a chance at happiness.
Only to rip it away when I'm finally starting to believe it's real.
The ride to the hospital is a blur of pain and terror.
Gwen drives while Vail sits in the back with me, her hand gripping mine.
"Breathe through it," she coaches. "Just like we tell our patients."
"There's so much blood," I whimper. "Too much?—"
"Don't look at it. Look at me." Her voice is calm, professional, but I can see the worry in her eyes. "When did you eat last?"
"I don't... dinner. Couldn't eat much."
"Any other symptoms? Fever? Severe pain on one side?"
She's checking for ectopic pregnancy, I realize.
Running through the same checklist we use on calls.
"Just the cramping. And the blood." Another wave hits, and I bite back a scream. "Oh God, Vail. I can't lose this baby. I can't?—"
"You're not going to," she says firmly. "Bleeding in the first trimester is more common than you think. Doesn't always mean miscarriage."
But we both know this much blood isn't normal.
We both know what this probably means.
"Does Regnor know?" Gwen asks from the front. "Should we call?—"
"He's on a run," I gasp. "Can't... can't interrupt that."
"Fuck that," Vail says. "He'd want to know."
"No." I squeeze her hand harder. "Not until we know for sure. Please."
Because if I'm losing this baby, if this is really happening, I need to know first.
Need to process it before I have to see the devastation on his face.
The ER is mercifully quiet when we arrive.
Vail wheels me straight back, using her EMT credentials to bypass triage.
"Pregnant patient, approximately ten weeks, heavy vaginal bleeding and cramping," she rattles off to the nurse. "Needs immediate evaluation."
The nurse takes one look at the blood soaking through my jeans and moves fast.
"Room three. I'll get the OB resident."
Everything moves quickly after that.
IV started.
Blood drawn.
Ultrasound machine wheeled in.
"I'm Dr. Sims," the resident says, young and kind-faced. "Can you tell me what's been happening?"
I explain through tears—the cramping, the blood, the fear.
She nods, making notes.
"Let's take a look, okay? See what's going on in there."
The gel is cold on my belly.
The room is silent except for the hum of the machine.
I can't look at the screen.
Can't bear to see an empty uterus where my baby should be.
"There," Dr. Sims says softly. "See that flicker?"
My eyes fly to the monitor.
A tiny flutter.
A heartbeat.
"The baby's okay?" I sob.
"Heartbeat is strong. Good placement in the uterus." She moves the wand, taking measurements. "Looks like you have a small subchorionic hemorrhage. Basically, a pocket of blood between the placenta and uterine wall."
"Is that... bad?"
"It can cause bleeding, obviously. But most resolve on their own." She prints out images. "The baby looks perfect. Right size for ten weeks."
Relief hits so hard I shake with it.
The baby's okay.
Still there, still fighting.
"But the bleeding?—"
"Will likely continue for a few days. Possibly even weeks." She sets aside the ultrasound equipment. "I want to keep you overnight for observation. And you'll need to be on modified bed rest for at least a week."
"But the baby's really okay?"
"The baby's fine," she assures me. "But you need to take this seriously. No heavy lifting, no stress, no... intimate activities for at least two weeks."
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"Is the father here?" she asks gently. "Someone we should call?"
"He's... working," I manage. "But my friends are here."
"Good. You'll need support." She squeezes my shoulder. "Try to rest. We'll get you moved to a room soon."
After she leaves, Vail and Gwen crowd in.
"Well?" Gwen demands.
"Baby's okay," I whisper. "Something called a subchorionic hemorrhage."
"Thank God." Vail sinks into the chair beside my bed. "You scared the shit out of us."
"Scared myself too." I touch my belly gently. "But they're still in there. Still fighting."
"Of course they are," Gwen says. "They're half you. Stubborn as hell."
And half Dylan, I don't say.
Half monster, half survivor.
What kind of person will that create?
"We need to call Regnor," Vail says. "He needs to know?—"
"After," I plead. "After they get back safe. I can't... I can't distract him right now."
They exchange looks but nod.
"Your mom then," Gwen suggests. "She's probably worried sick."
I agree to that, and Vail steps out to make the call.
Lying in the hospital bed, waiting to be moved to a room, I close my eyes and let the relief wash over me.
The baby's okay.
We're okay.
Whatever else happens at least I haven't lost this.
Haven't lost the tiny life that's become my reason for everything.
"Hey," I whisper to my belly. "You scared me, little one. But you're tough, aren't you? Just like your daddy."
And I mean Regnor.
Because DNA doesn't matter anymore.
What matters is who'll be there.
Who'll love this baby.
Who'll protect us both no matter what it costs.
The blood might be Dylan's.
But the heart, the love, the family?
That's all Regnor.
That's all ours.