Page 133 of Branded
Not alone and yet completely by herself.
Beth—
I parked in an empty spot and, like a goddamned idiot, found myself walking back into that emergency department.
Four
Beth
I was staring at my hands, head still spinning, trying not to worry.
The doctor hadn’t seemed all that concerned when I had spoken to her on the phone. Her tone had been calm when she’d advised me to come in and get checked out, just to be on the safe side.
But these weren’t my babies to take risks with.
The moment I had gotten dizzy I should have been here, just to make sure.
Because I was the vessel carrying extremely precious cargo.
And if I’d done something to harm Pru and Marcel’s babies by thinking it wasn’t a big deal?—
Tears threatened.
A-fucking-gain.
So many tears. All the freaking time. Add that to my list of lovely pregnancy side effects that made me an awesome catch (yes, that was sarcasm).
I knew the tears, in particular, were because of the hormones and the high stakes of everything, because I was under stress and trying to play this whole pregnancy off like it was no big deal and yet feeling like I was one wrong move away from fucking everything up at every moment.
And I had twenty weeks left. Twenty weeks of worrying and trying to stay calm so I didn’t do something stupid and hurt them.
And now I’d passed out in a bar.
A bar!
I was pregnant and would have taken a header in a bar if not for Raph.
Who’d spent the entire time after I’d collapsed looking at me like I was worse than a bug squished on the bottom of his shoe. After he’d gone full romance hero and stopped me from hitting my head.
Pathetic.
Lusting after him, trying to make him like me, trying to make him see me.
No one saw me.
Not really.
“Beth Mason?”
I glanced up from my hands, saw the nurse in the open door, and breathed deep. Then I pushed to my feet, concentrating on putting one in front of the other.
Because the fucking room was spinning.
Because black spots were gathering at the edges of my vision.
“Ms. Mason, are you okay?”
I gripped a chair back, wavering on my feet. “No,” I whispered. I wasn’t okay. Something was wrong. I couldn’t make it across the room. I couldn’t. “I’m sorry.” Focusing on the nurse, who was moving toward me, I tried desperately to get the room to steady. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I?—”
