Page 145 of Oathbreaker

She chews on her lip for a second. “That sounds like something a non-anxious person would do,” she drawls.

I chuckle, and she rests her head on my shoulder. “When the bad thoughts come in, remind yourself of our game. All is good until proven otherwise. Okay?”

We stay like that, her head on my shoulder and my arm around her, for several minutes until Dr.Greene walks in.

“Well, you most certainly are pregnant,” she says, looking over at the tiny stick in front of Winter’s pee. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Winter straightens, a hint of relief washing over her. “I’m all right today,” she says, a small smile on her lips. Then her face falls as quickly as her smile appeared. “No morning sickness for a full twenty-four hours.” She starts to bite her nails.

“Why does that make you nervous, baby?” I whisper just for her ears as I lower her hand back to her lap.

“Because—I mean—does the lack of morning sickness mean something’s wrong?” she whispers back, and then she turns her face into my chest and cries silently.

I rub her back and look helplessly at Dr.Greene. She smiles softly.

“Winter, what things are you worried about? Let’s talk about them.” The doctor puts her thin laptop on the counter in the corner of the small exam room. With a patient look, she gives Winter her full attention.

“I don’t know why I lost the last one.” Her voice is a rasp. “Is there something wrong with me?”

Dr.Greene’s understanding eyes soften. “I see. Can I explain it to you?”

Winter nods slowly, leaning into me.

“You were so young the last time you conceived, and the reality is that when very young people get pregnant, their bodies are still developing. You were just starting puberty, Winter. The body often isn’t prepared to handle something as strenuous as gestating a fetus that early in one’s fertility journey. In your case, that stress resulted in a placental abruption.”

Winter nods along to what the doctor says, and her gaze never wavers from the doctor’s.

“Let’s talk risks. There is a slightly increased risk that you might experience another abruption over the general population, but hear me clearly: The risk is still low.”

Winter clears her throat. “The risk is still low,” she echoes.

Dr.Greene smiles at her. “Would you like to see your baby, Winter?”

Winter lifts her head so quickly that she almost clips my chin.

“I—really? It’s not too early?” she says.

Dr.Greene doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she boots up the machine next to Winter after she rolls in front of it.

“Nah,” the doctor says, good-natured. “Wanna take a look?”

Winter nods her head.

“Lay back for me.” Dr.Greene puts a glob of ultrasound gel on Winter’s lower belly after Winter shimmies her pants down and lifts her shirt.

Her hand trembles in mine as Dr.Greene flicks off the overhead lights. Once she’s back on her rolling seat, Dr.Greene slides her eyes to us.

“You ready?” She holds the ultrasound wand suspended in the air. I nod for the both of us. The tension in my throat makes it hard to speak.

She puts the wand on Winter’s lower stomach and turns her attention back to the screen. She taps the machine and rolls the ball-looking knob, her face completely blank.

Now, I shake.

After a few more moments, the hazy gray static starts to clear, and I see a small circle of clear space in the middle of the screen.

“See that? That’s your baby,” Dr.Greene says, not looking at us and pointing with her cursor. With a few more taps, she makes the image larger.

“Nice fetal pole and a very normal-looking yolk sac,” she continues talking, but my eyes lock on the screen, on the flickering blob that’s a perfect blend of me and Winter.

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