“I thought you might be more comfortable in a car,” I explain.
Winter’s grin is radiant, and though she doesn’t confirm I was right, she looks touched that I would think of it. Opening the cab door, I help her up onto the seat and check to make sure her feet are inside before closing her in. Then I head around to the driver’s side.
The sun is shining, making the snow along the road glisten as we drive the winding roads to the doctor’s office across town. Neither of us says much, and I wonder if Winter is nervous about the appointment. I know I am. She looks out the window as I drive, taking in the town as though it’s something new she’s never seen before.
Her fingers absently twist a lock of red hair, spinning it back and forth, back and forth, as if the sensation of it soothes her. Reaching across the console, I gently grip her knee, hoping to lend her any kind of support or strength I can give. If I’m nervous and want this child more than anything, I can’t begin to imagine how she’s feeling.
When my hand makes contact with her leg, Winter’s eyes snap down to it. Releasing her lock of hair, she grips my fingers, and I don’t know if it’s to reassure me or comfort herself. We drive the rest of the way like that, and when I pull up outside the doctor’s office, she waits for me to come around and open her door. Whether that’s because she’s used to someone opening car doors for her and this is the first time I’ve encountered it or because she’s taking a moment to prepare herself, I don’t know.
I help her down out of the cab and take her hand once more. Then we head in through the doors. The doctor’s office is clean and quiet, much like the clinic I found her at the other day. Only this receptionist doesn’t have plexiglass separating us.
“Morning,” the middle-aged woman greets us as we step up to the counter. “Do you have an appointment with Dr. Russ today?”
“Yes,” I confirm as Winter looks at me. “Under the name Martinez.”
The receptionist smiles kindly and slides a clipboard across the counter. “If you’ll fill that out, please.”
Winter takes it wordlessly, and I follow her to a set of chairs. Her hand shakes a little as she fills out the form, and my heart squeezes painfully. I hate how scared she seems. Not the same fiery temper and rebellious glare she might usually give me if I make her do something, not the sexy simper of her trying to get her way. Certainly not that captivating smile she spares for special occasions when she’s managed to get exactly what she wants.
The doctor calls Winter back before she’s even done filling out the papers, and she looks up with fear in her eyes.
“Would you like to bring someone with you or be examined alone?” Dr. Russ asks.
I bristle as he glances toward me.Is that concern in his eyes, like I might be there against her wishes?My hands begin to ball into fists.
But then Winter’s fingers close around my wrist. “I would like my boyfriend to come with me,” she says, her voice quavering.
My chest swells with emotion at the sound of her vulnerability and the way she called me her boyfriend. I don’t think she’s ever done that before, and for some reason, it strikes me as incredibly meaningful. Covering her fingers with my own, I give her a reassuring squeeze.
The doctor nods with understanding and gives us both a kind smile. “If you’ll follow me then.”
As we head back together, the doctor offers to take the clipboard with Winter’s information, and he skims through it as we walk.
“You’re eighteen?” he asks Winter, a hint of surprise in his tone.
“Nineteen next month,” she corrects, and I bristle at the sound of humiliation creeping in. She has nothing to be ashamed of. She’s an adult. We both are, and no doctor has a right to judge her for what age she is when she gets pregnant.
Dr. Russ nods, reading further down the page. “And this is your first time at this office?”
“Yes.”
“How far along do you think you are?”
Winter glances at me, hesitating.
“Maybe about six weeks or less,” I offer.
“But you are suffering from morning sickness?”
“Yes,” she agrees.
I give her hand a supportive squeeze.
Opening a door, the doctor ushers us inside. “I’ll be taking a sample of your blood today, just to ensure everything is in order, along with an exam and ultrasound.”
As Winter scoots onto the exam table, I stand close to her, hovering rather than taking a seat in the visitor’s chair. Sensing that she’s nervous, I don’t want to stray far. All I want is for everything to be alright. And while I’m not sure how I can possibly help the situation, I would rather be present and protective than leaving Winter to figure it out on her own.
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