Page 24 of Desperate Decisions

“What do you mean she was in the hospital? When was this?”

“While you were gallivanting all over fucking Europe instead of being here with my kid, that’s when.”

“Fucking Christ. I wasn’t gallivanting, I was dealing with a death in the family.”

Amara stirred with a whimper and curled closer. I bit down hard against the pain her movements caused, trying to keep any sounds of distress to myself.

“What is wrong with everyone today?!” She fully burst into tears, cradling her head and sniffling against my skin, the salt water of her tears darkening the edges of my vision when they skated over one of the burns.

“Fuck, kiddo, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aiming for you.”

“Don’t hurt him! You can see he’s been through enough. Don’t be such a jackass.”

Amara’s father seemed sufficiently chastised. “We should get you to a doctor.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“Your father is right. You only lost consciousness for a few seconds, but you should get checked out.”

“Oh, so I can go to the hospital, but you can’t?”

“A concussion from intervening in a fight is a lot easier to explain than almost a dozen fucking brands on my skin. It’s not the same thing, and you’re my mate. I need you to stay in good condition.”

“Fuck’s sake,” she grumbled. “Fine.”

Amara’s father begrudgingly helped me bandage up all my burns, and I pulled on a borrowed shirt that was dark enough to hide the bandages through it. We both took her to the hospital, and one of the nurses immediately recognized her, trotting over.

“What are you doing back here?”

“I tried to break up a fight between these two idiots,” Amara said.

“She lost consciousness and I want to make sure she’s okay,” I told the nurse.

The nurse glanced from her to me and back again. “Is this your mystery mate?”

Amara nodded. “Yep. He found me eventually.”

“Good, I’m glad. Have you been through triage yet?”

“Nope.”

The nurse went to talk to one of her colleagues and Amara was taken right in. Apparently omegas who had been unconscious were a top priority. All the better for us. They took all her vitals and a blood panel, and sent her for a quick brain scan while her father and I paced in the waiting room.

“She’d better be okay for your sake,” I snapped.

“She’s a tough cookie. She’ll be fine.”

We barely spoke until that same nurse came out to talk to us. “Amara would like to talk to her mate privately for a moment. She’ll be cleared to leave afterward but I’ll give you a pamphlet on concussions and symptoms to watch out for just in case.”

I followed the nurse back, feeling a puff of pride that Amara had asked for me and not her father. She was sitting cross-legged in a chair when she came into view and immediately popped up.

“We have a problem,” she said. “Or maybe you won’t think it’s a problem. I don’t fucking know. I don’t know what to do with this information.”

I looked up to the nurse for some clarity.

“You do it,” Amara told her and closed her eyes.

“She’s pregnant. About four weeks along if the timeline for when you two got together is accurate.”

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