Page 121 of Things We Burn

“Again,” he murmured, rubbing behind my ears with his thumbs.

I mimicked the way he drew in a long breath before pushing it out, the spinning of the room slowing then finally coming to a stop.

“Okay,” he said calmly. “She moved this morning, that’s good. You said she’s a nocturnal baby. How often does she normally move during the day?”

I focused on him, forced myself to think analytically though tears burned the backs of my eyes. “A lot. I mean, she is nocturnal, but she usually gives me a few jabs throughout the day to remind me she holds dominion over my bladder.”

I rubbed at my stomach, carefully prodding as I had done in the past to get a responding kick.

I held my breath.

Nothing.

Heat began slithering up my neck as I began panicking again.

“What can we do to get her to move?” Kane asked me pragmatically.

“Um, something cold. Ice cold. Sugary.”

Kane didn’t wait for more details, rushing to the fridge, getting a can of soda, dispensing ice into a glass then filling it.

My hand was shaking when he handed it to me, clattering against my front tooth when I brought it up to my mouth.

I gulped down the entire glass without tasting it. In the past, when I’d been concerned about lack of movement, it had taken minutes for something sugary and cold to wake her up.

We waited, Kane trying to talk to me and me muttering things back, trying to distract us while we waited, hoped.

Nothing.

The world swayed again. I looked at him, vision blurry. “Kane,” I whispered, my voice drenched in fear.

His own expression remained even, calm, unworried. He took the glass from my hand, not having realized I was still clutching it.

“Okay, Chef. I’m thinking we call your doctor on the way to this hospital you’ve been telling me about,” he said placidly. “Then I’ll get the tour I want, and maybe I’ll get to see our girl without waiting for an appointment.”

Not waiting for my response, he helped me off the stool. His movements were unhurried as he snatched my purse from the counter.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked, still holding onto me.

I shook my head, unable to think straight. My hand was still on my belly, rubbing, waiting for those telltale kicks. Nothing but quiet, stillness.

I could’ve vomited all over the floor. But that would’ve delayed the trip. Hospital. We needed to get to the hospital. The quicker the better.

My trademark cool had well and truly gone. I barely remembered Kane walking us through the house and getting me in the car.

He rifled through my purse then handed me the phone. “Can you find me the number for your OBGYN?” he asked me softly.

I squinted and the screen, my fingers shaking as I scrolled. “I can’t talk to her,” I shook my head, realizing just how close I was to a breakdown.

This was it. The other shoe dropping. Not Kane abandoning me and my baby but being reunited with him, tasting a future with them then it being stolen.

Bad things happened every day. People died. I’d experienced that with my father. A brain aneurysm. Quick, unexpected. Unavoidable.

Fathers died.

Babies died.

I was going to experience that. I was sure of it.

---