Chapter 1
Chapter 01
The moment rocks started raining down like hailstones, I reached out from the back seat to grab David's shoulder.
He lunged toward the passenger seat.
"Sophie, duck!" he shouted.
He arched his back like a shield, wrapping both arms protectively around Sophie's head.
A massive force slammed down onto the roof, blowing out the back window. I was hurled out of the car like a rag doll.
When my face smashed against the gravel, I felt something deep in my gut break.
The pain lasted only a heartbeat. Then everything went black.
When I came to, I was in the hospital.
The harsh ceiling lights stung my eyes. A nurse stood by my bed, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Ms. Summers, the baby didn't make it," she said.
I pressed my hand to my stomach. It was flat, empty.
David sat by my bed, his eyes red and swollen. He grabbed my hand, his voice shaking.
David said, "Emily, I'm so sorry. Everything happened so suddenly. I barely had time to react, and you were already, "
He choked up, unable to finish.
I didn't cry.
I pulled my hand from his, stared up at the ceiling, and then asked quietly.
"Did you protect her when I was thrown out?" I asked.
David's Adam's apple bobbed. He opened his mouth, then closed it.
For three long seconds, he said nothing.
The silence stretched between us.
That was all I needed to know.
I was not even three months pregnant. I hadn't even told my mom yet.
I turned my face toward the wall, my voice flat.
"You should go. Did Sophie get hurt?" I asked.
David's voice caught in his throat, thick with emotion.
"She's okay. Just shaken up, and she got a little scrape on her arm," David said.
Just a scratch.
My baby was gone, and all she got was a scratch.
"That's good," I said. "Go check on her. She's skittish. Don't let her get too scared."
David stood up, then sat back down.
"Emily, I'll stay with you," he said.
"It's okay, you don't have to," I replied.
I closed my eyes, my voice completely emotionless.
"I want to be alone for a while," I said.
He sat by my bed for a long time. Not once did I open my eyes to look at him.
The door closed softly.
I pulled the blanket over my head, my hand resting on my empty stomach.
The baby was gone.
I didn't want the man who chose to save someone else in the rubble, either.
The nurse came in every two hours to check my temperature.
The next morning, while she was changing my bandages, I asked her how I could get discharged.
She froze for a second, looking surprised. "Ms. Summers, with your condition, you really need to stay in the hospital for at least three days so we can keep an eye on you."
"I know my own body," I said, tightening the clamp on my IV. "I want to be discharged today."
The nurse hesitated, then left.
Half an hour later, it wasn't the nurse who walked in. It was David.
He was carrying a thermos, probably from the diner across the street. I recognized that gray thermos with the notch on the lid.
"Emily, you're not fully recovered yet. You should stay for at least two more days," he said.
He set the oatmeal on the nightstand and offered his hand to help me up.
I didn't pull away, but I didn't take his hand either.
"Where were you last night?" I asked.
David's hand froze in midair.
"I went to the office to deal with the aftermath of the landslide. Since it happened during a company retreat, the insurance side..." David said.
He paused, then corrected himself.
"Just handling the cleanup. I came back as soon as I finished, around two in the morning. You were already asleep," David said.
I looked at the red veins in his eyes. He really did look like he hadn't slept.
But the visitor log by my bed told a different story. The nurse had checked on me three times last night, and the section for visitors was empty every time.
He hadn't come back at two in the morning.
I didn't call him out on it.
"I can't eat the oatmeal. Just help me get discharged," I said.
"Emily," he said softly.
"I want to go home," I replied.
He unscrewed the lid of the thermos, and a cloud of steam drifted up from the oatmeal.
"Try to eat a little first. I'll ask the doctor about getting you discharged," he said.
I lifted the bowl and took a spoonful. It was sweet, with cinnamon apples softening in the oatmeal.
Back when I was in the hospital with the flu, he never even showed up. He just texted me to "drink more water" and didn't get home until eleven at night, coming home with Jessica Green's scent on him. No, wait, it was Sophie Jones.
Back then, he always smelled like he'd been working late.
Now that I think about it, Sophie was probably with him every time he said he was "working late."
I set the bowl back down, only managing a few spoonfuls.
"I'm done. Go take care of the discharge papers," I said.
David looked at me, like he had something on his mind.
In the end, he just nodded and walked out with my insurance card.