“Get her up to the room, Berta. Stay with her there. And don’t tell the ridiculous amount of people here for her anything unless she wakes up and okays it.”
I am awake. I think… My eyes are closed… How did they close? When did they close?
“Just so you know,” comes a familiar voice, “Bella would want all those good people knowing. She’s just going to wake up and tell them.”
“Policy is policy, Berta. You know that.”
Something jostles, and then it starts to feel like I’m moving. Seconds turn into minutes, but I finally manage to open my eyes as the distinct ding of the elevator chimes.
Why the hell am I on an elevator?
Everything hurts as I sit up a little, watching as they move me down a familiar corridor. My eyesight adjusts to the glaring lights, allowing me to take in more of my surroundings.
Berta is beside me, holding my hand. It dawns on me that I’m in the hospital.
Hospital… No!
My baby!
Instinctively, I grab at my stomach, and Berta releases my hand, her eyes filling with relief as I move my hands lower, searching for the blood.
“My baby,” I croak, wincing at how dry my throat feels.
“Is just fine,” Berta says with a loud breath as we move into a room. “I’ll have to tell your boyfriend we had to change your room because the bed was broken on the other one. I just found out the baby was okay. You want to tell him or you want me to?”
“How?” I ask, then wince when pain shoots through my leg as I try to sit up and fail. “There was so much blood.”
“Yeah. You a fucking bleeder alright. Thought you nicked an artery when I found out that baby was just fine. Turns out you just needed some stitches in your leg. Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
I pick the sheet up, and relief washes over me as I stare down at my freshly stitched leg. I remember a time when I bandaged Ethan’s same exact leg in the same exact spot.
The hospital gown is up high, and the guy pushing my bed down the hallway clears his throat, which lets me know he’s getting an eyeful. Where the hell are my underwear?
I’m too thankful to give a damn if I show the entire hospital everything under the gown right now.
My baby is okay.
Tears start pouring from my eyes, and Berta wipes at her own, sniffling as she turns away from me to hide the tears.
“That boy is tore up, so I’m gonna send him on to you. Okay?” she asks, and I nod, not bothering to tell her we’re not together anymore.
My baby is okay, and nothing else seems to matter at this moment. I thought I’d lost him or her. I thought I was being punished for not being excited right away. I thought my baby was being taken away because of how terribly I first reacted.
My hands clutch my stomach as they transfer me to the bed in the room, and my tears cease temporarily as too many other emotions overwhelm the relief.
“You’re sure everything’s okay?” I ask Berta again.
She turns and faces the guy who pushed me down here. “Go to the other room and send her friends to this one, please.”
He nods and backs out, and she turns to face me.
“That peanut is just fine. Don’t you worry. I made sure everything was good before I walked you up here. Those bastards wouldn’t tell me anything until then. They’re keeping you overnight for observation because of the blood loss and the baby. Apparently there was some kind of glass vase you broke when you landed at the bottom, and the glass cut your leg, which is how you ended up in here. I’ve lost all my damn fingernails over you and your free-bleeding ways. That’s not natural.”
A smile curves my lips, but she just twitches her finger at me. “I have to go grab a drink now. I’ll be back when I don’t feel like crying anymore. You handle that boy. He’s a mess.”
My smile fades when I think of Ethan. He’s probably worried about the baby too.
As soon as she leaves, the door bursts back open, and Ethan is walking in with wide, reddened eyes. Ethan Noles doesn’t cry, but it looks like he has been.