Chapter 107
That shuts her up. The car falls back into heavy, tense silence.
My heartbeat spikes the moment we pull up to the hospital. Lilly doesn’t even wait for me to park before she throws open the door and bolts toward the entrance.
“Shit,” Uncle Gabe mutters, already getting out to follow her.
I park as quickly as I can, and Dad and I trail behind them. The fluorescent lights of the hospital sting my eyes, the sterile scent of antiseptic making the air feel thin. We ask at the nurse’s station, and they direct us to the surgical floor.
Being here brings memories of the countless times I was here when Chloe was sick. The visits, the scares, begging God to spare her. It all crashes down on me and I have to force myself to breathe through the memories.
It feels like an eternity before the elevator doors slide open. When we finally step out, we find Lilly already in the hallway, arms wrapped tightly around Sierra’s mom.
Given how strained things have always been between Sierra and me, I’ve never really known her mother. I’ve seen her a handful of times, and every one of them ended with her glaring at me like I was the enemy. Can’t say I blame her. I’d react way worse if some dipshit treated Nova the way I treated Sierra. 1
After their hug, she turns. “Rowan, Gabe?” she says, her voice hoarse.
Her eyes are red and swollen. She’s been crying hard.
“We were with Lilly when you called,” Dad answers.
“Thank you for coming.” She nods faintly, her expression weary but sincere.
Then her eyes land on me. For a second, confusion flickers across her face as if she’s not sure why the hell I’m even here before her gaze hardens, turning to steel.
And for some reason, that look burns more than I expect it to.
“What is he doing here?” Sierra’s mother says, her voice hard, eyes narrowing on me like knives.
Lilly immediately reaches for her hand, rubbing it gently in comfort.
“He drove us here,” she explains softly. “You don’t need to worry about him p>
Before Sierra’s mom can say anything, Dad steps in, his voice steady but gentle. “Have you informed Ava and the rest p>
She shakes her head, her voice trembling. “No… The call came so suddenly, a–and I was just so worried. I—I wasn’t thinking of anything except getting here p>
Her composure cracks. Tears stream down her face before she can fight them back. Lilly wraps her arms around her, holding her tightly as both of them begin to cry.
“We’ll let them know,” Uncle Gabe says after a moment, his tone calm but firm. “And don’t worry, Sierra’s going to be fine p>
She nods, but the fear and uncertainty still cling to her eyes.
Lilly helps her sit down, whispering something softly, while I stay pressed against the wall, trying to keep my own chaos buried deep inside.
Why am I feeling like this? Why do I care this much? I know I’ve refused to acknowledge the baby, but maybe… maybe that’s the reason. Whether I want the child or not, it still shares my blood. It’s still mine.
I don’t know how long I stand there staring into space before someone steps in front of me.
“Noah p>
The voice pulls me back, and when my vision clears, I find Mom standing there. Her face is pale, eyes rimmed with red.
“What are you doing here?” she asks quietly.
I’d be offended, but I get it. I’m probably the last person she or anyone expected to show up.
“We were in a meeting when Lilly got the call,” I say, forcing my voice to sound casual. “I drove them here p>
She sniffs and nods. I know if she wasn’t so shaken right now, she’d be asking why I really came. Because I’m not even sure myself.
I glance around the waiting room. It’s full now. Nearly everyone’s here. Good thing the space is large enough; otherwise we’d be spilling into the hallway.
One by one, people gather around Sierra’s mother, hugging her, whispering words of comfort.
Watching it, it hits me. I always knew everyone cared about her, but seeing it. Seeing how much she means to all of them does something strange to my chest.
Mom and my aunts all have red, puffy eyes. Dad and my uncles wear the same expression. Tight jaws, tense shoulders and eyes full of unspoken fear.
Gunner rushes in last, breathless, just as the doors to the operating theater swing open and a doctor steps out.
“Sierra’s family?” he asks, pulling down his surgical mask.
“Here,” Sierra’s mother says quickly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“My name is Doctor Martin. I was performing surgery on Sierra,” he says. “I wanted to let you know that she’s out of danger p>
For a moment, no one breathes. Then, relief crashes through the room in a wave. Audible sighs, hands covering faces, people hugging, whispering thank God.
The weight that had been crushing my chest feels like it’s finally lifted. I can breathe again.
“And the baby? How’s the baby doing p>
The words tumble out before I can stop them.
The room stills. Every pair of eyes turns toward me–some confused, some startled, some downright shocked.
Fuck.
I feel the blood drain from my face as the realization sinks in. I may have just given everything away.