Page 25 of Justice

I swallow hard, forcing a smile. "We're going to get you some help, okay? Your parents are on their way, and we're going to the hospital."

She nods weakly, and I can see the relief in her eyes. She's been trying to be strong for so long, but I know she's scared too.

As I help her out of the tub, I make a silent vow as I support Elle's fragile form. We're going to get to the bottom of this, no matter what it takes. I won't let anyone dismiss her suffering again. Elle deserves better, and I'm determined to make sure she gets it.

A wave of helplessness washes over me. This isn't something I can fight off or protect her from. It's beyond my control, and that realization twists like a knife in my gut. I've never felt so powerless.

"Can you hand me the bodywash?" Elle's soft request breaks through my thoughts. Her voice is barely above a whisper, and I can see the fatigue etched into every line on her face.

Without hesitation, I reach for her favorite bodywash and a soft washcloth. The familiar scent of lavender fills the air as I pour some onto the cloth. Instead of handing it to her, I gently begin washing her back, my movements slow and careful.

Elle's shoulders slump, and I can feel the tension in her muscles. "I feel bad that you're having to take care of me," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.

My heart clenches at her words. I tilt her chin up, meeting her tired eyes with mine. "I love you, angel," I say, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Taking care of you is far from a burden. I just want you to be healthy and happy."

I continue washing her, my touch gentle and reverent. There's nothing sexual about it, it's pure care and devotion. I can feel Elle relaxing under my ministrations, her breaths evening out.

As I finish, I set aside the washcloth and carefully lift her out of the tub. She feels so light in my arms, too light for someone who is six months pregnant, and I make a mental note to bring it up with the doctors. I wrap her in a fluffy towel, cradling her close as we make our way to the bedroom.

I sit her on the edge of the bed, my hands lingering on her shoulders. Elle looks up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability, and it makes my throat tight.

I want to say something, anything to reassure her, but words seem inadequate right now. Instead, I lean in and press another soft kiss to her forehead, hoping my actions speak louder than any words ever could.

I reach for my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I dial Konrad's number. He's the club doctor, and I trust him implicitly. Maybe he can shed some light on Elle's condition, or at least provide another set of eyes at the ER.

"Hey, Konrad," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Elle's… she's not doing well. We're heading to the ER. Would you be able to meet us there? I'd feel better if you could look over everything."

As I hang up, I turn my attention back to Elle. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, looking small and fragile in just her underwear and sports bra. I grab her favorite sweatshirt and leggings, carefully helping her into them.

"Your parents are here," I tell her softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "They're going with us to the hospital."

Elle nods weakly, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Without hesitation, I scoop her up in my arms, cradling her against my chest. Her weight, or lack thereof, sends a fresh wave of worry through me.

I make my way down the stairs, each step careful and measured. Elle's head rests against my shoulder, her breathwarm against my neck. The beeping of the alarm confirms her parents' arrival.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, Derek steps forward, concern etched deep in his face. "Let me help her into the truck," he says, his arms outstretched.

Every instinct in me screams to keep Elle close, to protect her, but I know her father is just as worried as I am. With a nod, I carefully transfer Elle into Derek's arms, watching as he cradles his daughter with the same tenderness I feel.

I climb into the back seat of the truck, and Derek gently passes Elle back to me. I settle her next to me, my arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders as I secure her seat belt.

Brittany turns from the front passenger seat, her face a mask of worry as she hands me a blanket and a bottle of water. "Here," she says, her voice tight with emotion. "Keep her warm."

I tuck the blanket around Elle, and she immediately curls into my side, her head finding its familiar spot on my shoulder. The truck lurches forward as Derek pulls out of the driveway, the tires squealing slightly in his haste.

The stillness in the car is heavy, charged with unspoken fears. I catch Brittany's eyes in the rearview mirror, seeing my own worry reflected back at me. Derek's knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched tight.

As we speed toward the hospital, I press a gentle kiss to Elle's forehead, silently praying that we'll finally get the answers we need.

Along the way, Mason, Reid, Lane, and Smiley pull up beside us, following us to the ER.

I carefully climb out of the truck, Elle cradled in my arms. She's barely stirring, her body limp against my chest. The blanket's wrapped tightly around her, but I can still feel her shaking. Fuck, this isn't good.

A nurse wheels over a bed, and I lay Elle down as gently as I can. Her eyes flutter open, looking up at all of us hovering around her. The fear in her gaze hits me like a punch to the gut.

Reid's hand lands on my shoulder, a silent show of support. I'm grateful for it, 'cause right now, I feel like I might fall apart. The thought of Elle losing the baby or being seriously sick… I can't even go there. It's too fucking much.

They wheel her into a private room in the ER, and suddenly it's packed. My parents are here, standing next to me with matching worried looks. Reid, Mason, and Cole crowd in too, their presence both comforting and overwhelming.

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