Page 86 of Back On Ice

“Shit, Soph, okay, breathe,” he says in my ear as he hauls me into his lap and starts speaking to the nurse. “She thinks she might pass out. She’s pregnant, and I can’t imagine this is good for the baby. Is there anything we can do to make sure everything is okay?”

I don’t catch the response but I feel him nod as he continues to rub circles on my back with his good arm. “I’m okay, Angel, I just got a couple of stitches.”

“What happened?” I manage to get out between gasping breaths.

A slight kiss against my hair settles me slightly. Carter tells me everything his dad said. How Carter made him think he wanted in on his scheme and got him to confess. How the shooting happened and how they hauled his dad off to prison. The steady timbre of his voice combined with his touch on my back have me settling, my breathing evening out as I listen to him talk. I’m not sure how long we lay there together, but I’m almost completely calm when Carter gets to the part where his dad outed Oscar Davis.

I sit up with a jolt. “Wait, Oscar was the one helping him this time? Shit, I knew something wasn’t right with him.” Thinking back on it, I’m not one bit surprised. He always acted like a nice enough guy, but there had been some sort of… ick underneath it all. Like he was trying too hard to be nice.

“Yep. Before Detective Peterson shut the door to the ambulance, he told me that he’d be paying dear old Oscar a visit.” Carter sighs wistfully. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s in handcuffs right now.”

Before I can answer, a voice calls out from the direction of the door.

“Ms. Hartwell, would you mind taking a seat in this bed?” I turn and look as the nurse who wrapped Carter’s arm pushes a second hospital bed into the room. Behind her, someone else is wheeling in what looks to be an ultrasound machine.

I guess being a hotshot hockey star in a small-town hospital has its perks.

Nodding shakily, I stand, and situate myself in the bed they’ve placed next to Carter. The nurse secures and then inflates a blood pressure cuff around my arm so hard it almost hurts, and then releases the pressure. “One-seventeen over seventy five,” she says, “which is in the normal range. Our attending OB-GYN, will take a look at the baby and make sure everything is okay.”

With that, a kind looking older lady with glasses perched on her nose and graying hair enters the room. “I’m Doctor Roberts. It’s nice to meet you Sophie. How many weeks are you?” she asks, situating the machine closer to my bed.

“My first OB appointment is in a couple of days, but if my math is right, I should be about eight weeks.” My voice is stronger now, my panic having subsided with Carter’s help. “You’re actually the doctor I have my appointment with.”

She nods, smiling. “If you’ve already filled out your paperwork online, I don’t see why we can’t just do this portion of the appointment now. We can try the external ultrasound first then, and see if we can get a view of the fetus.”

“Thank you.” I swallow, and settle back into the bed as she raises it to a half-sitting position and moves my shirt up, pulling out a bottle of gel. A small gasp leaves me at the coldness of it hitting my bare stomach. Feeling Carter grasping my hand, I notice he’s gotten up from his bed, and is staring lovingly at me as the doctor puts the wand to my lower stomach.

She moves the wand over my belly, spreading the gel around. I gnaw on my bottom lip, and Carter gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hmmm…” Doctor Roberts' eyes are on the screen in front of her. “Perhaps we should try the transvaginal—” Her words are cut off by the sudden sound of whooshing. “Ah. There we go.” She smiles, holding the wand in place and using her other hand to turn the screen towards us.

My heart leaps into my throat and Carter’s breath catches. The picture is fuzzy, but the shape of a head attached to a little body is evident. I can’t believe it. We’re having a baby. I’ve known for weeks, but to be able to see what they look like as they grow inside of me brings a whole new level of understanding.

It’s real. This is all real.

“Is that…” Carter chokes out, tears welling in his eyes.

“Your baby,” the doctor says proudly, before moving the mouse around, clicking it a couple of times. “And you were right about the timeline. Baby is measuring at about ten weeks.”

“Oh my god,” I choke out, my eyes fixed on the tiny body on the screen. “How big is it?”

“A common comparison used at this stage is that of a kumquat.” The doctor smiles, “Or, about this big,” she holds her fingers about two inches apart, “if you’re like me and have never actually held a kumquat.”

A shocked laugh leaves me. A baby. We’re really having a baby. Carter’s laugh joins mine as he leans over, capturing my lips in a fierce kiss. “We’re having a baby,” he whispers against my lips before pulling back and giving me the most blindly handsome smile I have ever seen on him. Hmm, if we weren’t having a baby, that smile would certainly make me want to keep trying.

The doctor clicks a couple more times, then there’s a whirring sound at the bottom of the machine followed by aripping. “Here are a couple of pictures for you two.” She hands them over, then wipes my belly off and helps me adjust my shirt. “I’ll leave you two alone for a moment.”

Doctor Roberts and the nurse who took my blood pressure head out the door, the latter wheeling out the second bed and making a note to get me some paperwork to fill out before I leave. Carter and I settle into his hospital bed, me between his legs and resting my head on his chest, staring at the ultrasound pictures. His hands come around to cup my belly. “I…” The words choke in my throat as tears fill my eyes. “I can’t believe it. We’re having a baby. ”

“I know how you feel,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. “I wonder how many weeks until they’re the size of a hockey puck.”

I laugh. “Why is that?”

He shrugs, a small smile on his face. “Then we can refer to the baby as ‘Little Biscuit’”

“What do you think, hm?” I look down at my belly, rubbing my hand over the spot where the ultrasound wand was minutes ago. “Do you want to be Little Biscuit?” Turning my head, I place a gentle kiss on Carter's lips. “I think we can call them that now.”

“Alright, Little Biscuit.” Carter says, moving one of his hands over mine. “Mommy and Daddy already love you so much. We’ll always take care of you, no matter what.” There’s an emotion in his words I can’t quite place, but part of me realizes it’s his promise to Little Biscuit to be nothing like his father.

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