Page 53 of Angel

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“Not a lot,” she says quickly. “Just when I wiped. But it…” Her voice wobbles. “It wasn’t there before.”

I close my eyes for half a second. “Are you cramping?” I ask.

“No.”

“Dizzy?”

“No.”

“Pain?”

“Just scared.”

“Okay,” I say. “That’s okay.”

My hand tightens around the phone.

“I’m comin’,” I tell her. “Sit down. Don’t drive.”

“I’m already at home.”

“Good. Stay there.”

“I don’t want to panic.”

“You’re not,” I say firmly. “You called me. That’s smart.”

There’s a pause. “I’m breathing,” she whispers.

“Keep doing that,” I say. “I’m on my way.”

I hang up and don’t bother explaining. Wrench reads my face in one glance. He’s known me too long.

“Go,” he says simply.

I’m on my bike in seconds, engine roaring beneath me. But I don’t ride recklessly. The old me would’ve torn the road apart, twisted the throttle until the world blurred just to feel like I was doing something.

Now…I ride clean, in full control. Every shift smooth, turns precise. This ain’t about fury. It’s about getting home. The wind cuts sharply against my face.

My mind tries to spiral.

What if this is it?

What if this is the same story all over again?

What if I watched her hope grow just to watch it bleed out again?

I shut it down. Not by ignoring it. By staying in the present. She’s not cramping, not in pain. The doctor said small bleeds can happen.

By the time I pull into the driveway, I’m steady. I’m through the door before the engine even cools. She’s on the couch. Knees drawn up. Hands clenched together like prayer. Her face is pale but composed. Eyes locked on mine like I’m the only fixed point in a moving world. I kneel in front of her immediately. Take her hands.Cold.

“I’m here,” I say again. “Talk to me.”

“It stopped,” she whispers. “There’s nothing now. I checked twice. I’m not cramping. I don’t feel dizzy. I just...” She swallows hard. “I got scared.”

“Me too,” I admit.

Her eyes search mine. “You did?”

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