Page 117 of Wicked Refusal

That day, I thought I’d never feel pain like that again.

I was wrong. Because this is a thousand times worse.

I’m clutching my belly, holding in my screams as Yulian rushes me into the ambulance. “Sir, you can’t come with us,” I hear one of the paramedics say. “You’ll have to meet us at the hosp?—”

“Try to fucking stop me.”

His voice is cold as steel. Without hesitation, he climbs in after me.

The paramedic goes silent.

“Let him come,” I whisper. “Please.”

Finally, a flicker of recognition seems to dawn on his face. “Nurse Winters?”

“Hey there, Kyle.”

His expression shutters. He doesn’t try to remove Yulian again. “Let’s go,” he tells the driver.

Then we’re riding.

I hold it together until we cross the doors at Manhattan General.

Then I lose it.

Seeing the ER from the other side is—well, it’s not pleasant, let’s just say that. The view from the inside of the bay, waiting behind the curtain… it’s a freaking nightmare.

But it’s not the reason why I start hyperventilating.

It’s my baby.

“What if I’ve lost it?” I’m clutching Yulian’s arm like it’s a lifeline, holding on with all I’ve got. “Oh, God, what if it’s gone?”

“You didn’t.” He sounds so sure, so confident, that every part of me wants to believe him.

But I’ve got years of medical training behind me. And a guilty, guilty conscience. “It’s all my fault,” I sob. “I should have listened to you.”

To Yulian’s credit, he doesn’t agree with me. Not openly, at least. “You were following your instincts,” he says instead, gripping my hand tight. “You were being a nurse.”

“I don’t want to lose it,” I whisper.

There’s blood between my legs, I know. I’ve seen it when Yulian lifted me up, on the pristine terrace floor, and I’m seeing it now, staining his white shirt red. It’s not a lot, but what if it’s enough?

My breaths quicken. My chest tightens. The room starts to spin.

I feel like I’m falling again, falling like when I was seven; falling, falling,falling?—

“Mia.”

But Yulian catches me.

His voice keeps me steady. Anchors me to the here and now. “It’s going to be alright,” he promises. “You’re strong. Our baby’s strong.”

I shake my head. Our baby isn’t strong; it’s small, the size of a cauliflower, a tiny thing with a heartbeat I can’t feel. What if that heartbeat’s gone? What if I’ll never get to meet my baby now?

All because I couldn’t stay put?

This time, it’s not Yulian’s voice filling my head.