Page 27 of Curvy Wives of Willow Creek 5-8

I grimace, clutching my belly as another wave of pain hits me. It's sharp, almost paralyzing, making every breath feel like a battle.

I hate this; I hate feeling weak, feeling like I need someone’s help.

My mother used to tell me that it was okay to lean on others, but I rather lean forward, bending over my rounded belly to alleviate the sharp ache on my left side. It's getting unbearable now.

"I'm not asking anymore, Kate, I'm telling," Ivy, my boss, snaps, breaking me out of my painful reverie. "Get your ass to a hospital before you collapse here and make me look like a villain."

I grit my teeth, glancing at Ivy.

"Would you really fire me for this?" I ask, trying to muster some indignation. We've been working together for three years, after all.

The corners of her lips curl up in a smirk, her amber eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Want to find out?"

I roll my eyes, even as my heart thumps wildly. Ivy is fierce, even more stubborn than me, yet we've formed an odd friendship over the years. She'd never let me get hurt. I know that.

"I'll go, but I don't need a babysitter."

Ivy just gives me an 'as you wish' look before turning back to the espresso machine. I grab my coat, shrugging it on quickly. Or as quickly as I can while ignoring the pain.

The bell jingles above the door as I leave, the cold air hitting me in a sharp gust. I shudder, hugging my coat tighter around my body, rubbing my arms for warmth. It's freezing but feels good and distracts me from the pain.

The walk to my car is only five minutes, but it feels like a trek through the tundra tonight. The streets are quiet, the city seemingly holding its breath as if in respect for my personal agony. The only sound is the echoing moan of the winter wind.

The hospital is an hour's drive away. The thought makes me grimace, fueling the simmering anger within me. It's not fair. I don't want to go, don't want to admit that I need help. But I have to. The pain is relentless, growing worse with each step.

I bite my lower lip, squeezing my eyes shut as I finally see my car. It's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. The pain in my belly throbs in time with my racing heart, my fists clenched so tight that my nails dig into my palms.

One deep breath, then another, and I'm opening the car door, sliding into the driver's seat. I rest my forehead on the steering wheel for a moment, gathering the strength I need for the long drive.

The night is just beginning, but I can't help but feel like I'm stepping into a whole new world. One where I might have to admit that I can't always be strong, that I can't always handle everything alone.

But, damn it, I'm not there yet.

I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening with the effort. The keys jingle as I shove them into the ignition, then I'm driving. My teeth are gritted, and my heart pounds with each painful throb in my left side.

The car's cabin is filled with silence, save for the occasional hiss of pain that escapes me and the deep breaths I draw to withstand the unrelenting ache.

Each minute stretches into eternity, the shadows of the night seeming to creep by at a slower pace. The pain could be messing with my sense of time, or perhaps the drive really is taking longer than usual.

I can't tell, and I don't really care. All I want is to get to the hospital and get this over with.

By the time I pull into the hospital parking lot, my forehead is slick with sweat. Even though it's freezing outside, my body is a furnace, and the confines of the car haven't helped. I wipe the sweat away with the back of my hand before climbing out of the car.

Taking a shaky breath, I start towards the hospital entrance. Each step is a test of endurance, the pain spiking with every movement. I wince, biting my lip, trying to focus on anything else.

The hospital lobby is bright, the harsh fluorescent lights making my head pound. I make a beeline for the front desk, the nurse there looking up with a bored expression. It shifts quickly into concern when she sees me, though.

"What's going on?" she asks, her eyes roving over my hunched form.

"I...I'm not sure," I manage to stutter, clutching my side. "I've got this pain on...my left...my left side..."

The nurse's lips part to say something, but her words never make it out. A sudden wave of dizziness washes over me, my vision blurring. I sway, my legs buckling under me, but before I can hit the floor, a pair of strong arms wrap around me.

I'm pulled back up, turned to face my savior. I find myself looking into a pair of intense green eyes, a mess of dark hair framing a ruggedly handsome face. The man is broad-shouldered, muscular, and, judging by the stethoscope around his neck, a doctor.

For a few seconds, the pain is forgotten, replaced by a flutter in my chest that's completely new. His firm grip on my arms is warm and secure, providing an odd sense of safety despite the situation.

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