Page 34 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

I don’t know why. I’m upset over that but try to keep my own emotions separate. At least until we’re home. “You can’t let word of this get out.”

“Full confidentiality,” promises Dr. Joyce, seriously. “Not a word about this will leave the office.”

Once all of that is taken care of, I step back into the office. Amanda has started crying again, though thankfully it’s not the same heart-stopping sobs as before.

I get another wet paper towel and dab at her cheeks, then take hold of her hands and help her up onto her feet. “Come on, then. Let’s get home.”

“I’m sorry,” Amanda croaks out.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Amanda. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. I don’t want her to start crying again, but I want to make sure that she isn’t feeling alone, or as though she’s done something.

Her arms wrap around me too. I want to ask her why she didn’t tell me about the baby. Why she chose to get distant instead. And maybe I will, one day, but certainly not here. With my arms around Amanda, I rock her slightly from side to side, humming the whole time, and trying to calm her down.

She doesn’t apologize again, and once she has managed to gather a bit more of herself together, I lead her out into the hallway. It's after the normal office hours for Dr. Joyce, so there’s no one in the little waiting room area. That means we’re able to make our way down the hallway and to the elevator without any problems.

I get us an elevator without anyone else on it and hold her hand tightly the whole way down to the lobby floor. Even once the doors slide back open and other people are around, I cling to her hand. Giving her comfort is more important than my reputation ever was. There aren’t any rules against having workplace relationships, but it’s generally considered to be a little on the unprofessional side. For the moment, that doesn’t matter— and I would dare anyone to make a go at me, considering my status here as a well-known senior doctor.

I guide her out to my car, passing by her van in favor of getting the passenger door on my own car opened. Amanda slides into her seat, and before I can close the door again, her hand snakes out and grabs me.

“Jackson,” she says, the word wet and thick, like she’s riding the line between bursting into tears again. “I should have told you.”

“I’m sure that you had your reasons not to. And while I can’t pretend to understand them, I’m not going to be mad at you over them either.” I lean into the car, bracing one hand on the center console, so that I can kiss her. It’s a brief, tender thing, meant to comfort and reassure, nothing else.

Her eyes flutter. When I pull away, she wipes at them again, clearing even more tears from her cheeks. This time, she doesn’t stop me when I push the door shut and step around to the driver’s side, sliding into my own seat.

I don’t start the engine right away, instead reaching a hand out and setting it on her shoulder. “Let me take you to my house. I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” says Amanda, her voice trembling again. Her arms wrap around her middle, as though she could hold her belly tight enough and it would fix the baby growing within.

As gutted as I am, I cannot even begin to understand the devastation that must be sweeping through her in this moment.

I kiss her on the cheek and then start up the car, pulling out and onto the street. We’re homeward bound. And when we get there… I’ll do everything that I can to make her feel better.

The drive home seems long, perhaps the longest I’ve ever taken. We seem to hit every red light, every stop sign, and every traffic jam that Seattle has to offer. Each time we have to slow back down, the tension twists up even tighter in my chest.

I’m gripping the steering wheel so tightly that it’s made my knuckles turn white and start to throb. The AC is too cold, so I shut it off and roll down the windows. Through it all, Amanda sits in the passenger seat, silent. She is crying again, the tears rolling without sound down her cheeks.

Her gaze is settled firmly in her lap, the tears plopping down onto her skirt, leaving dark marks on the fabric. I don't know how yet, but I’m going to fix this for her.

Or I’ll lose it all trying.

Chapter sixteen

Amanda

I’mamessstillwhen we get to Jackson’s house. I don’t need to look in the side mirror to know that. My cheeks are burning, and my eyes have gone puffy from crying so much but to stop the tears sliding down my face is beyond my control.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fair.

My baby is sick, and he hasn’t even been born yet. My brother is sick, and he’s never done anything wrong. And what can I do to fix any of this? What can I do to solve it?

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Jackson parks the car and comes around to the passenger side. He helps me out and then pulls me into a tight hug. “You’re alright,” he says, the words a low, murmuring promise. “You’re alright, honey. We’re home now.”

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