Page 193 of The Catalyst

He shrugs. “I think you two need this time together. I’ll just be in the waiting room. You can call me back in a bit.” He presses a kiss to her forehead before sighing.

He lets go of her and stands up. As he moves around the bed, he squeezes my shoulder in a show of support and my heart fully fucking aches.

He hurries out the door without another word, and I just move close to her, holding her in my arms as she cries out as much of the grief as she can.

Her eyes aren’t the only ones glistening, though.

* * *

A few minutespass as Beth soaks my shirt with her tears, and then the hospital room door opens, and the doctor she’s been seeing for the baby strolls in with his lab coat on. “Good evening, Miss Mercer. I wanted to come by and check how you’re doing. I heard you were attacked. How are you feeling?” he asks, and I climb out of the bed to give him room to examine her if need be.

Her bottom lip trembles, but she keeps her crying under control.

“Like I was run over by a truck,” she admits, her voice breaking, and the doctor nods.

“Yes. You must be in a lot of pain,” he assesses, and she hums her response with a small groan of discomfort. “I would suggest that the hospitalist prescribe you some pain medication, but sadly, the strongest thing they can give an expectant mother is Tylenol.”

Her eyes widen, and I also feel surprised. “What? You mean my baby is…”

“He’s in perfect health, Miss Mercer.” He reaches over to the machine beside her and presses a button that releases a loud, continuous whooshing noise into the room. My gaze follows the path of the cords coming from it, and I notice they’re wrapped around her stomach.

The breath of relief that falls from her lips is contagious, and my fingers squeeze around hers to let her know I’m here.

“You got lucky. For the amount of damage you sustained from your attack, a miscarriage was expected, but your son is thriving.”

She thanks him religiously as she rubs her hands over her stomach, the joy in her aura vibrating through the room. Then, it’s suddenly dampens as the doctor turns off the machine. She reaches out and snatches his hand, panic across her face.

“Doctor, I need your help,” she pleads. “I don’t want to lose my baby, and the man that did this to me was trying to kill him. He’s a very powerful man, and the cops won’t help me. He owns them, and I won’t be able to get my son away from him without your help. He’ll only believe it if it comes from you. Please.”

I know exactly what she’s going to ask him to do. She wants him to lie to Nolan so, she can leave Grove Hill and have our son away from here so Nolan doesn’t ever find out that this baby belongs to her.

The middle-aged doctor stares at her for a moment before taking a seat in the chair next to the hospital bed and pulling it closer.

“Tell me what is going on, Miss Mercer, and I swear I will do anything in my power to help you, but I need you to be completely honest with me, okay?”

She nods as more tears fall down her face, and she tells him the entire tale from start to finish of why Nolan Gray wants our son dead.

* * *

Turns out,Doctor Dumbshit is a decent person because he agreed to lie to my uncle about the semen demon. The plan was to tell him that Beth lost the baby and needs to go to a special facility to recover from the damage caused by how vicious the miscarriage was, or she wouldn’t be able to ever get pregnant again. It was a fucking lie, but it’s necessary to get the results we need.

Beth squeezes my hand as I lead it up to her face, rubbing her unharmed cheek, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“I can’t stand the anxiety of this whole thing. Can you say something to take my mind off of this?” she begs, her fairy green eyes coming off as more of a doe than the siren eyes she usually gives me. She’s so fragile it enrages me. Where is my strong, bratty, crazy girl? She’s too stressed to be herself and in too much pain.

I want to take her mind off things, but there is only one thing I can think of that I want to talk about.

“Have you thought about names for the hellspawn yet?” I ask.

The smile that pulls at her lips, mixed with a comical laugh, has my insides relaxing. Her hand finds mine and squeezes it. “When are you going to stop calling him stuff like that?”

“When my balls sag down to the floor,” I joke, but then shrug. “Nah. Probably not even then.”

She snickers before smirking at me with that lovesick look in her eyes. She understands my humor in a way most people don’t, or maybe it’s just that I’m so close to her that it doesn’t matter if she gets it or not.

“I have thought about it. I compiled a big list of possible names, but they were all girl names except for one. I’m not sure if you’ll like it, though,” she confesses, a blush rising on her cheek.

“What is it?” I can easily tell her my thoughts on it if she opens up. If I hate it, I’ll let her know, and we can go from there.

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