Page 105 of Mended Hearts

I need you.

“Sissy,you’re going to be fine. We’ll all tackle this together.”

I was vaguely aware that I nodded, but my eyes were trained somewhere very, very far away. Through the floor of my bathroom and about three thousand miles north, in a hospital room that smelled like alcohol, panic attacks, and death.

“We’ll find the best high-risk OB in the city,” Kaia vowed, squeezing my fingers where they hung limply off my knees. “If, of course, you want to keep it.”

“I’m keeping it—them,” I snapped, that concept finally yanking me out of my stupor. “I’m keeping them. Him.Her.” I scowled. I was not boy mom material.

“Okay. So do we need to call OBs or cardiologists first?”

“Both?” I guessed, still feeling beyond dazed. “I don’t know, I’ve never thought about this. OB, I guess. Make sure she’s okay in there before I worry about potential cardiac complications.”

There was something unspeakably staggering about finding out something “impossible” might have, indeed, been possible. I guess Audrey Hepburn was right, after all. Part of me wanted to fly back to Alaska just to punch that stone-faced knob goblin of a doctor square in the nose for speaking with such authority when, clearly, he might’ve been wrong. But the rest of me was terrified that the jackass had been right, and this wouldn’t be sustainable. That I’d lose her, just like the rest of my dreams—because that seemed to be how things went for me.

That Ollie would hate me when it happened. That I wouldn’t be able to keep our baby safe.

I wasn’t one for internalized misogyny, but for fuck’s sake, living with the idea that my body couldn’t do the one thing females of every species—well, except for seahorses, the adorable backwards weirdos—managed to accomplish had been a devastating blow.

Hell, I’d never even had a man, and I’d still carried that weight like a curse. Not because I wanted to please a man someday, or provide an heir like some Regency-era queen, but because I loved our packed house growing up.

When Rhyett, Jameson, and Broderick won their championship game, the entire football team lifted us girls onto their shoulders and carried us around like town royalty.

I loved that my brother’s geeky best friend once hoisted some asshole up by the scruff of his collar and dumped him in a trash can to defend me. The sound of forty people reuniting over pumpkin pie and coffee every holiday.

I’d wanted that.

Terrified or not, if this pregnancy was viable, it was a gift I never thought I’d get.

“Reviews are mixed on this one, but his cesarean rates are the lowest in the city,” Kaia murmured, swiping through her phone. “Allegedly terrible bedside manner, but his complications are basically non-existent due to his willingness to trust mom’s body and baby. Oh—this reviewer says he’s autistic. That explains the bedside manner-to-competency ratio. I like him. Personally, I don’t care if he’s nice to talk to. I care about how quickly he can get baby out if you need him to. Let’s schedule a consult.” She scrolled again. “This lady has fantastic bedside manner and her stats are pretty solid, although she’s more prone to interventions. Do you even care about that at this point? I mean, we already know there’ll be extra precautions either way.”

My nose stung as I blinked away the fog in my vision, trying to focus on my sister’s glowing face. Kaia had always been the gentler, more polished of the two of us—but there, in my fancy bathroom lighting, she looked luminous. Her eyeshadow made our gray-blue eyes pop. It was the tight pinch of focus between her brows that had my throat thickening.

It would be okay.

If the doctors said we were safe, I would figure this out. Land on my feet. And this baby would be so fucking loved, she’d have no idea what to do with all the excess.

“Well?” Kaia demanded, her eyes snapping to mine.

“What?” I breathed.

“Honestly, Leigh, I love you, but take a cold shower or something, because we need to focus. You’re probably what—nine-ish weeks?”

Halloween was almost eight weeks ago. I nodded.

“And the father? Do you want him involved? I will take this to my grave if he was some rando in a bar bathroom or something. Not all of us can be Rhyett with his one-in-a-million fucking luck.”

A little giggle bubbled out of me as something like hope bloomed in my chest. “He wasn’t a rando in a bar bathroom.”

“Oh. Okay… and… do welikethis not-a-rando?”

“So much,” I admitted, my lip wobbling.

“Oh.” The word was perky, but the pitch was not. It was the same one we both got when we were lying through our teeth. That was hurt, masked in enthusiasm. “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”There it was.“Hell, I had no idea you’d even popped your cherry.”

“It’s new,” I said lamely, earning a deadpan fit forThe Office. “And I’m pretty sure I popped that thing on a tampon in college.”

“Two—don’t be technical. You know what I meant. Andone—obviously not that new.Nine weeks, sissy?You’ve been keeping this from me for nine weeks? Oh my god, the Turkey Trot. No wonder you were such a bitch.”

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