Page 7 of Cruel Love

I sat on the exam table, thankful to be wearing my street clothes instead of a hospital gown. It was just a checkup. I didn’t expect much—or I hoped not much, considering the scare the baby had given me a few weeks back. “That’s something I’ve thought of too. The giant chip on his shoulder isn’t as big.”

“Remember”—Max’s voice was soft, and he held my gaze with a seriousness that had me leaning forward—“he shielded you. There’s more to him than you saw before the accident. Maybe a friendship would develop if you opened up to him a little.”

That surprised me a little, coming from Max, and I knew he was right. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot.”

A knock sounded at the door, and we both quieted as the doctor walked in. I made introductions. She went through a series of questions, making sure I was eating, drinking, and not experiencing any lasting trauma from the accident.

“You haven’t gained any weight yet, and you’re very small. Much smaller than I would expect. I think we should do an ultrasound and check on the baby.”

Max and I exchanged looks, and then he extended his hand to take mine. I grasped it like the lifeline it was. Ever since the amniocentesis and then the accident, my doctor had been overly cautious. I was glad about that, but it also brought about a lot of fear, and that wasn’t good for the baby or me.

The nurse rolled in the ultrasound machine and squeezed warm goo onto my slightly rounded stomach. A baby soccer ball pushed tightly against my skin. Max moved his chair closer as the doc made her usual measurements. Then she turned up the volume, and we got to listen to the fast staccato of my baby’s heartbeat. Max and I exchanged grins. I loved that sound. It meant she was doing well and filled me with joy.

After a few more minutes, Dr. Fielding turned the screen toward us and went through everything. The baby was doing well, and she had no concerns. I was just small.

“Do you want to know the baby’s sex?”

My heart skipped a beat. I already knew, but getting the validation was too much to pass up. “Yes.”

She moved the wand on my stomach and stopped where the baby was flashing us. Both Max and I laughed. “Phoenix would have gotten a good laugh too.” I missed him, and tears gathered in my eyes, but I blinked them away. Max gave me a sad smile.

“She’s not shy,” Dr. Fielding joked.

There wasn’t much left to the appointment. I promised I was eating and taking my vitamins. It wasn’t long until Max and I were at the reception desk, where I made my next appointment before we headed back to my car and toward campus.

It was the beginning of November and chilly for California but warm enough that I only needed a thin long-sleeved shirt and leggings. Max grabbed my hand, and we walked into the dorm together.

“Do you think I should tell Phoenix?”

“Tell him what?” Max paused at my door. “About how you’re having a little girl? Or that the baby is his?”

“Just the little girl part.”

He tucked my hair behind my ear. “I do. He’ll eventually get his memory back. Don’t listen to the pessimistic diagnosis from the doctors. He called you Surfer Girl. He’ll come back. But if you withhold things other than the baby being his, it won’t sit right with him.”

“That’s a good point.” I played with my keys for a moment. “I’m going to go there and maybe talk to his mom about what I’m doing. She works nights, so I’ll wait and call her after her shift. That’s when she’s in to see Phoenix, anyway.”

“Good plan. Now, wish me luck!”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t need it. Jaxon is lucky to go out with you. And Max”—I paused with my hand on the door—“thanks for going with me.”

“Aww.” He hugged me. “I’ll always go with you.”

Back in my room and with Max on the way to his, one floor up, I dropped my keys on my desk and palmed my phone. I stretched out on my side on the narrow dorm bed, found Phoenix’s name, and hit the call button. It rang a few times before he answered.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Aspen.”

“How are you feeling?” It was the same question I started all our conversations with. But I was scared for him, and I did want to know his progress.

“I’m doing okay. Had physical therapy and managed to walk the length of the room and back without help.”

He sounded so pissy. I couldn’t imagine how frustrated he was. The guy was a top-tier athlete, so the whole process had to be difficult for him. I needed a minute. I couldn’t speak without him knowing I was crying.

“John, the physical therapist, said I’m weeks ahead of where I should be. It’s not good enough, though. Mom said the guy’s great, but I need to be doing better. It’s bad enough that I’m out for the football season, but I have to get back and be hella stronger next year.”

“You will. I know it.” I cleared my throat. “And it’s a big deal, the walking across the room part. Don’t downplay it. After the accident, we didn’t know if you would survive. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

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