Page 2 of A Baby Changes Everything

Or if she hadn't been informed the day before that her father was dying.

For months, Hope had seen the subtle changes in Sam's health. She'd begged him to see the doctor, but he kept insisting he was just getting older and simply couldn't do things like he used to. Other times, he'd claim he was only fighting off a cold or the flu and he'd be fine in a day or two.

Yesterday, however, the doctor had informed them Sam wasn't going to be fine. He had stage four liver cancer, which had already spread through his lymphatic system. Although both chemo and radiation treatments were recommended, their purpose would be more palliative than curative.

When they'd returned to Sam's place, Hope had intended to stay with him but he'd insisted she go back to work. There was nothing she could do, and there wasn't any use bemoaning the hand fate had dealt him, Sam had assured her. He just needed a little time to absorb and process the news the doctor had given him.

Reluctantly, Hope went on to work, and within an hour of receiving the most devastating news of her life, she and Drew had answered a call for a mare in fetal distress. After three grueling hours of doing everything humanly possible to save the prematurely delivered foal as well as his mother, the colt had simply not been strong enough to survive.

That, combined with the earlier news from Sam's doctor, had hit Hope like an F5 tornado. She'd completely lost it. Like a dam bursting wide-open, uncontrollable sobs racked her entire body as tears flowed like rivers down her cheeks. At some point, Drew had pulled her into his arms, offering her comfort with his gentle caresses and soothing words.

His strength had been precisely what Hope had needed.

When she had no more tears left to cry, she'd uttered the words that would alter the course of their lives forever. "What do you say we go back to my place, order some pizza, and you can help me drown my sorrows in a bottle of tequila?"

Twelve hours later, here they were.

Yesterday had been one helluva day. Unfortunately, even after having the best sex of her life, today wasn’t shaping up to be much better.

Chapter One

Twelve Weeks Later

Despite the awkwardness of the morning after their night together, Drew hadn't made as big a deal about them sleeping together as Hope feared he might. Although she suspected he may have wanted to explore the physical side of their relationship further, he'd understood when she'd expressed her concern about not wanting things to become weird between them or interfere with their work at the clinic.

By unspoken agreement, they'd tabled what had happened between them, both deciding it best to move forward with their lives as normally as possible. Especially while Hope dealt with her father's declining health and the repercussions of his prognosis.

In fact, if it hadn't been for Drew, Hope didn't know how she'd have survived the past couple of months. He'd been flexible with her schedule, offering his assistance as both a friend and coworker in whatever capacity she needed, and was never more than a phone call away.

When her father entered his final days, and in the two weeks since his passing, Drew had barely left her side. He'd been there when Sam had taken his final breath and had worked with Hospice to ensure all the appropriate calls and arrangements were made to have Sam's body transferred to the funeral home.

When she met with the minister to plan the service, he'd been with her, had coordinated with the staff at Wakefield to have their duties covered, and had answered calls and welcomed visitors who wished to offer condolences and make food for the repast, basically handling whatever needed doing.

On the day of the funeral, he drove Hope to the church, escorted her inside, and comforted her as she cried her heart out. When they returned to the fellowship hall after the interment, Drew remained by her side as she greeted those in attendance. It had heartened Hope to know that even though the only family she'd ever known was gone, she wasn't completely and utterly alone.

And after seeing the doctor this morning, Hope found out just howun-aloneshe truly was.

The appointment, scheduled a year in advance, was for her annual physical. Per usual, as Dr. Lawson conducted her exam, Hope answered the physician's routine questions regarding her general health and well-being. Yeah, she'd been a little more tired lately, but that was likely because her body no longer ran on nervous energy while she tried to juggle working full time, taking care of her father, and handling some of the farrier workload Sam had been too sick to do himself.

Any other symptoms?

Well, a few mornings, her stomach had been a bit queasy, but that was likely the result of her poor eating habits of late. Once she got up, put something in her belly, and started moving around, she was fine.

Except for this morning, when her stomach violently rejected the eggs and toast she’d eaten for breakfast. Probably because she was run down and had caught a touch of one of the many viruses going around, Hope rationalized to the doctor.

Or maybe they should run a few tests to be sure, Dr. Lawson suggested.

"You've been awfully quiet this morning. Is everything all right?" Drew asked as they restocked their supplies and equipment in the compartments built into the bed of his extended cab Ford F-350.

Hope wanted to laugh. Or cry. Bottom line, she doubted she would ever beall rightagain. Well, at least not for the foreseeable future anyway.

As if on cue, a wave of nausea swept through her stomach, crested, and rolled again. Hope leaned against the side of the truck, closed her eyes, and focused on breathing. In through her nose—Please don't let me throw up. Out through her mouth—Not in front of Drew. And repeat.Please, please, please.

No such luck. Instead of subsiding, the tempest brewing in her belly intensified until she was forced to give up the fight.

Pitching forward, Hope stretched outward to keep from puking all over her red-wing boots. For what seemed like an eternity, her body lurched as the contents of her stomach emptied onto the grass beside the parking lot of the clinic. When the retching waned into a mild case of dry heaves, she rested her hands on her jean-clad thighs but kept her body bent at the waist in case another round struck.

Beside her in an instant, Drew encircled her arm with his hand, steadying her. "You okay?" Concern encased each word.

---