Page 26 of Only for Tonight (Only For #1)

twenty

Jaxon

“F ine,” she huffs out. “Only so I can be the one who can say I told you so.” She tosses the cover off of her, trying to be all brave standing up, but then she quickly falls back on her ass. “Then you are going to have to admit I was right.”

“They’ll be words I’ll have tattooed on my body,” I tell her, getting up and walking over to her, squatting down between her legs. “How about I grab your clothes for you?” I can see the exhaustion in her face. I can see how much of a struggle it is to do anything.

“Fine,” she concedes, as if she’s doing me a favor. “Get my black sweatpants and my black tank top. Or if you could just carry me to my luggage.” I glare at her. “Fine, just get me those things, all the black clothes are together.”

“Okay.” I look up at her and hate how pale she looks. Hating that after the last twenty hours with her throwing up more than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life throw up, she still has the attitude to serve me. “You lie back down. I’m going to get dressed and then come and dress you.”

“Jaxon, I think I can put on my own clothes.” She turns to get back in bed and rolls to her side in a fetal position.

I look up to the ceiling before I turn and head into my walk-in closet.

I grab my own pair of black sweatpants, a white T-shirt, and a black sweatshirt.

I walk over to her luggage in the corner of the room, hating that she’s just been living out of this suitcase since she’s been here instead of unpacking.

Tossing the clothes around, I find a pair of black sweatpants and a tank top and grab a sweatshirt of mine before I walk out.

I find her with her head hanging off the bed and heaving into the garbage can. “I’m going to call an ambulance.” I toss the clothes on the bed, the fear creeping into my bones. My body goes cold and my hands feel like they have a layer of sweat coated on them.

“No, no.” She spits and then reaches over to grab a wet rag that I left there during the night. “Let’s just get me dressed and get me to the hospital so I can gloat in your face.”

She places the bin down on the floor before she reaches for her clothes. “Let’s get you dressed and then I’m going to go and rinse this out”—I pick up the garbage can—“so we can take it with us when we go.” I watch her try to put on her pants, getting even paler if that can even be possible.

She is panting as if she ran a whole marathon for five days when she finally puts on her sweatpants, and I watch her every single movement, knowing she’s going a lot slower than she even wants to go. “Stop watching me,” she snaps, “and go do what you need to do.”

“I need to put you over my shoulder and get you to the fucking hospital,” I bark at her, walking to her and grabbing her shirt from her and helping her put it on.

She doesn’t fight me, which means she really isn’t feeling well.

Once she is dressed, I turn and walk the bin to the shower.

I grab the showerhead and turn it on and rinse it out.

I do it as fast as I can, and when I walk back into the room, she’s ready to go.

My sweatshirt falls to her knees and she starts to walk toward the stairs.

“Is that safe?” I ask her and she looks over her shoulder.

“Is it going to make you feel better to carry me, Jaxon?” she asks me.

“Yes,” I admit to her. “Save your energy for something else instead of being a pain in my ass.” I know the minute I say the words it is the wrong thing to say when she looks like I just hit her.

“I don’t want to be a pain in your ass, Jaxon,” she snaps at me. “The last thing I want to do is be a pain in your ass and uproot your whole life.” I stare at her and see her hands shaking. “You think I want this? Making you miss events to take care of me? I don’t.”

“Ari,” I say softly.

“No,” she snaps, “don’t Ari me.” I can see the tears in her eyes. “I feel so fucking helpless,” she admits, “and I hate it like you wouldn’t believe.”

“It’s okay for me to be the one to take care of you.” I put my hand at the side of her neck, my thumb going over the vein where I can feel her heartbeat pulsing. “Let me ask you this, would you not take care of me if the roles were reversed?”

“Of course,” she replies.

“So let me fucking take care of you.” I walk to her and hand her the garbage can before bending and taking her in my arms. I head straight for the garage.

“I’ll get your slides and your purse,” I tell her as I put her in the passenger seat of the SUV, “and a couple bottles of water in case you get thirsty.”

“I don’t want to put anything in my mouth,” she rebuts, leaning her head back on the headrest. “I might just nap.” I move my finger over to the button and slowly recline her seat. “That is better.” She closes her eyes.

“Do you want me to grab you a blanket?” I ask her and she shakes her head. “I’m going to grab one, just in case,” I mumble.

“Okay.” I rush back in the house to the kitchen, grabbing her purse, then snatching up the throw blanket that is draped over the back of the sofa, before I run back to slide my sneakers on and grab her slides that are right next to mine.

I open the back door of the SUV, dumping the stuff on the seat, before I get into the SUV and pull out.

“You okay?” I ask her and she just grumbles.

“I hope driving doesn’t make you more sick. ”

“You and me both,” she mutters, the seat moving to a lying-down position.

The drive to the hospital takes me twenty minutes and it feels like it’s the longest twenty minutes of my life.

Every single minute I was looking at the clock, then looking at her.

She slept the whole way, which is a good thing, I guess.

I went under the speed limit to make sure we got here safe and also making sure she didn’t get more sick, while at the same time all I wanted to do was speed here.

We pull up to the emergency side of the hospital and I park the SUV and then look around. “Baby,” I say and she mumbles, “I’m going to go and get you a wheelchair.”

She turns her head to look at me and barely has her eyes open. “Okay,” she agrees, “I’m just going to sleep.” Her skin color is even more pale than it was before.

I get out of the SUV and run into the emergency room, seeing the security guard sitting on a stool at the door. “Hey,” I say, looking around, “is there anywhere I can get a wheelchair?”

He nods his head before he points to the side where there is a row of wheelchairs. “Thanks.” I jog to one and then rush back out to the SUV. I open the door and unbuckle her seat belt before grabbing her and placing her in the wheelchair.

“I don’t feel well,” she mumbles and then leans over to heave on the side. I grab her purse before shutting the door. “Jaxon,” she says my name, “I don’t want to hear you say I told you so, but I feel like shit.”

“I bet you do.” I push her into the emergency room, looking around for the signs to registration.

I rush to the glass with her as she puts her head back and starts to pinch her nose with her two fingers. “Hi,” I greet the girl behind the glass separator, “we need to see a doctor.”

She looks at me and then at Ariella. “What is the problem?”

“She’s pregnant.” That’s the first thing I say, my body filled with so many nerves, it’s like I forgot how to speak. “She started throwing up last night and hasn’t stopped since. She thought it was food poisoning, but I don’t think it’s that.”

She nods her head. “Does she have insurance?” she asks me and I look back over at Ariella.

“Baby,” I ask, squatting beside her, “do you have insurance?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, “it’s in my bag.” She puts her hand on her bag and I grab it from her.

“Can we see a doctor and then answer all these questions?” I am at my wits’ end. “I can give you my credit card now and you can just charge it.”

“Sir, we need her information,” she says to me and I open her purse and grab her wallet before going back to her. She looks at me now, but her eyes look like they are glazed over.

“Baby, please show me where your card is.” My heart speeds up even more in my chest as she grabs the wallet from me, but it’s like her whole body is shutting down. I look back at the woman whose eyes go wide as she picks up the phone and I hear her voice out of the intercom.

“Evaluation nurse at triage,” she says, putting the phone down and then pointing over to the two doors beside her. “Go through those, there will be a nurse waiting for you.”

I wheel her to the doors and they slide open, and a nurse comes to the desk on the side. “What do we have?” she says, looking at Ariella.

“She’s been throwing up for the last twenty-four hours,” I explain, my voice going higher. “She’s ten weeks pregnant,” I continue, looking at Ariella who’s fighting to open her eyes, “maybe nine weeks.”

“When was the last time she ate or drank anything?” The nurse comes over to hold her wrist.

“She ate some pizza last night and she hasn’t been able to drink anything. She took a couple sips of water and then threw it up.”

“She’s dehydrated for sure,” she advises. “Has she fainted or passed out?”

I run my hand through my hair. “I don’t think so, she didn’t say anything.” My heart is racing so fast, even breathing is hard. “If she hasn’t been throwing up, she’s been resting. So I am not sure.”

“We need to get her hooked up to an IV.” She moves behind the wheelchair.

“Someone will come and get her information.” She runs away from me with Ariella and all I can do is stand here and watch.

She starts to talk frantically with someone else, the nurse behind the desk in the back runs out from behind it and moves with her until I can’t see them anymore.

I’m about to rush to her when I see the nurse come back out. “We need an orderly to help transfer.” I look to the side, seeing a guy dressed in blue scrubs rush their way.

“Sir.” I look over to see another nurse there. “We’re going to need her information.” I look around, feeling like the room is spinning under my feet. “I’m going to need you to focus right now.”

“Where is Ariella?” I ask her and she smiles at me.

“She’s being hooked to an IV right now. We have a doctor coming down from maternity, but there is nothing we can do if she is in the process of miscarrying.

” My body folds in half and I put my hands on my knees, trying to breathe.

But I think I’m going to throw up any second or I’m having a panic attack and I don’t know it.

My chest gets tight and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe.

“Does she have any allergies?” I shake my head and shrug at the same time.

“Can you get me her insurance card?” she asks and I stand up, opening her wallet and seeing that she has little pieces of paper on each side but her cards are all there.

I grab her insurance card and hand it to her.

“Okay, if you want to wait in the waiting room,” she directs me and I shake my head.

“I want to go and sit with her,” I say, my voice so low it’s a wonder she understands what I’m saying.

“I promise I’ll come and get you when the doctor comes down, but for right now, you need to let us evaluate her.”

I turn and walk out of the room, going to the corner and sitting in one of the plastic chairs, her purse on my lap.

Pulling the phone out of my pocket, I call the only person I know I can turn to.

The only person I know will make everything okay.

The only person I’ve ever been able to turn to in my whole life.

The phone rings three times before he answers, “Hey, son.”

“Dad,” I say, my voice cracking and I can feel the burning fill my eyes now.

“What is it?” he asks, the fear in his voice.

“It’s Ariella,” I reply as the tears start to roll down my face. Her name is on my lips as I stretch out my legs and my head falls back. I clutch her purse in my hands and bring it to the middle of my chest.

“What’s Ariella?” he asks and I can hear him moving on his end of the phone.

“She’s”—I look at the door that I just walked out of—“she’s?—”

“She’s fucking what, Jaxon?” he snaps.

“She’s,” I try again. “We’re at the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“She—” I take a deep inhale; this is not the way I had pictured telling him. I pictured us telling him together. I pictured it to be a happy occasion, shocking but he would have been happy about it. “Dad, her and me.”

“There’s a her and you?” The shock is now in his voice.

“There is,” I admit. “She’s pregnant, Dad.

” The gasp that comes out of him is one I knew was coming.

“We’re at the hospital because she’s been throwing up all night long and”—I put my head back—“and she’s in the back and I have no fucking clue what to do.

I don’t know if she’s okay. I don’t know if she’s maybe miscarrying, and I feel so fucking helpless.

Dad, the baby.” I feel sick thinking about losing the baby.

“Jesus Christ, Jaxon,” he hisses out. “What the fuck? I’m on my way, let me call you in ten.”

“No, you don’t need to come here. I just—” I look at the doors. “I need you to tell me it’s going to be okay.”

He sighs. “It’s going to be okay, son.” His voice is calm. “Everything is going to be okay. Ariella is going to be fine and the baby is going to be okay.” I don’t say anything, the lump in my throat is like a golf ball. “Women throw up all the time when they are pregnant.”

“It’s been twenty-four hours, Dad. I think she even passed out.” My voice is shaking at the end.

“She’s where she needs to be,” he reassures me. “They are going to get some fluids in her and she and the baby are going to be okay.”

“Promise?” I ask him, exactly like I used to ask him when I was a kid. Knowing that if he promised it, it would happen.

His own voice sounds like it’s trembling when he finally says, “I promise you, it’ll be okay.”