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Movement on the bed has me shooting to my feet.
Shelby!
Grabbing her hand with my left, I press the call button with my right.
“Hi, baby. You’re okay, you’re okay.” I whisper, stroking her face with the back of my hand.
Shelby’s mouth opens and closes silently; wide, panicked eyes flit about as if she’s searching.
“She’s okay, Riley’s safe. You saved her.” I croak, blinking back tears. “You saved her,” I repeat, kissing her forehead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Leonard
Dr. Webb plants her feet at the base of Shelby’s hospital bed, and nurses and a few interns crowd the room behind her.
Giving a quick nod in greeting, I turn back to Shelby. Pale and drowsy, she holds my hand.
Dr. Webb’s words feel like a physical blow. “Well, the good news is, your hip’s not broken or fractured. That was my main concern with the place of impact.”
Good, that’s good.I squeeze my eyes closed.
“You fractured your left radius and ulna, but surgery should be avoidable, and I think it’ll heal well with the cast. Your shoulder has been reset; the dislocation was sorted while you were sedated. It may feel achy, but you’ll be on pain medication for a few weeks.”
Shelby’s eyes widen more and more with every injury.
I fist the edge of the bed to hide my anger.
How did the Cromwells let this happen?
“The biggest injuries you sustained were the miscarriage and a broken clavicle.”
For the second time today, my world stops.
Shelby’s head snaps to the left, startled eyes meeting mine.
“We’ll monitor this and I’m sure Dr. Moore will help at home, but again I’m confident that we can avoid surgery.” Dr. Webb continues, like she didn’t just stab me in the heart.
“Miscarriage?” Shelby barely gets out.
“Err, yes,” the doctor says hesitantly. She glances at the chart in her hand, then at me. “I thought you’d seen.”
“No,” I choke out. “Your nurse took it before I could read it. No one would talk until Shelby was awake.”
“My apologies.”
But it’s too late.
“She was pregnant?” I breathe.
Shelby tenses in my grasp. Reaching up, I soothe brown curls away from her creamy cheek.
“Yes. When you were brought in, a test was run, and the hCG level indicated a few weeks or less.”
My eyes sting as I hold back my tears. Taking a deep breath, I channel all the professionalism I can. “Did she have any bleeding?”
“A little. I’d recommend seeing your usual OB-GYN for a follow-up.”
