Hard(67)

“You’re…”

“Oh, my God, Zach, your nose.”

Shay rushed to find a napkin. Blood immediately stained through the cloth.

“Are you okay?” Her voice trembled. “Talk to me, Zach. What’s wrong?”

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

And I was leaving her.

Her exact fucking fear.

I had to right it. I had to tell her I was sorry. I had to hold her.

Pregnant.

I couldn’t talk. My body seized tight.

One hell of a way to react when I was told I’d be a father. First the scariest and greatest fucking words I’d ever heard in my life, and then the reaper decided to take what he forgot to grab in Iraq.

The crippling pain stole my vision, speech, tightened and ruined every muscle in my body.

“Zach!” Shay grabbed me as I fell. “Zach, what’s wrong—”

Then the world turned dark, and I was lost in the peace after the IED once again.

Only this time, I wasn’t alone.

Shay was there.

And in her? A baby. My baby.

I hoped I lived to see him.





I hoped I wouldn’t step foot in a hospital for nine months.

Hell, I only just allowed myself to imagine what it’d be like to even have a baby.

I finally let myself think of holding her. Nursing her. Nudging Zach in the middle of the night when it was his turn to soothe her as she started to cry. I wanted nothing more than to see my powerful SEAL loaded with tattoos cradle a tiny bundle in his thick arms.

The thought put a lump in my throat and a curl in my toes.

If it could come true.

A week passed since I realized I was pregnant. Seven days since I argued with Zach. Five days since I worked up the courage to look through pictures my father left. Four days since I tried to contact him.

And two hours since he collapsed in the kitchen.

I never meant to keep the baby a secret from him.

The fantasy of Zach earning his baby’s smile was replaced with a new fear. Skyping with him whenever he was at liberty to call home. Going into labor alone. Dreading any knock at the door that might be the news any army family feared.

I could buy a lot of things for my child. The best clothing, education, opportunity.

But a father was priceless.

All the more reason my heart shattered in the waiting room.

Zach fell limp in my arms. Seizured. Bled so much from his nose, Azariah forced me to change before driving me behind the ambulance to the hospital. I wore Zach’s shirt and a pair of sweat pants with formal heels. Azariah promised to get me something to eat from a restaurant across the street.

I couldn’t think of hiding anything now. I managed a classy and dignified I’m pregnant, I want ice-cream between sniffles.

Azariah didn’t question it. She brought me ginger ale, a hot fudge sundae, and bitched out the nurse who claimed she was on break when she refused to find information on Zach.

I didn’t even know what happened to him?

He was fine one minute…and then…

Two hours in the hospital with no news drove me crazy. Between the nerves, morning sickness, and ill-fated citrus bruschetta hors d’oeuvres, I should have waited for the doctor while sitting on the floor in the nearest bathroom stall.

It was a strange thing for my worst fear to come to life.

I wasn’t ready for this. Getting pregnant should have been my biggest shock for the week. It was supposed to be a woman’s most crazy revelation. Instead, life threw me for a loop then, mid-way through the ride, crashed my ass down.

Azariah forced me to sit instead of pacing, but I couldn’t handle her hovering. Now wasn’t the time to piece together just how, where, why I ended up pregnant. She was a big girl. She’d figure it out. I sent her back to the house to clean up, glad for the quiet.

Another hour passed and nothing from the nurses or doctors. I bumbled through my purse for change before discovering the vending machine took credit cards. Halloween came early.

…Until the machine stuck and I hulk-raged to dislodge the candy bar and scared a passing orderly. Was it too soon to get an epidural?

I returned to my perch with a Kit-Kat I purchased and a Milky Way that dropped in its own terror. I didn’t open either. I sipped my ginger ale but regretted giving up coffee because the internet said it might be dangerous for the baby.

Were mocha frappachinos bad too? I mean, the baby needed to get used to it sooner rather than later. Her first words would probably be double pump.

No.

Her first word would be Dada.

I wouldn’t let it happen any other way.

“Shay?”

I bolted to my feet, punting the ginger ale into an unfortunate plant. I turned, candy bars in hand. Gretchen met me with a cautious smile.

“Hey,” she said. “How is he?”

Oh, guilt tasted about as good as morning sickness. I hated how I’d acted around Zach’s pretty blonde doctor, but she didn’t hold a grudge. She hugged me.