Page 3 of Faking Forever
Awkward.
“Uh…no, maybe you’re right,” she said in answer to his question. “I’m better on my own.”
She always had been.
Day 21
It started with the cramps. Severe, tearing, terrifying pain that left her curled up and writhing in bed. She moaned, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist as if that would stop what she knew was happening.
“No,no,no…” she cried, pleaded,prayed.
Please…no.
It ended in blood. Too much blood. Way too much lost blood to sustain the life that had so tentatively bloomed in her womb.
And she sat up in bed, a pool of deep red spreading on the previously pristine white sheet beneath her, leaving an indelible stain on her soul and in her heart.
She was unable to prevent the cry of agony and loss from escaping her lips. A raw, primal, gut-wrenching sound, loud enough to penetrate the wall between her room and Smith’s. Loud enough to bring him tearing into her room mere seconds later.
He stopped dead in the center of the hardwood floor, staring in horror at the sight before him.
His hands went to his head, long fingers fisting in his hair as tried to comprehend what he was seeing.
“Jesus.” His own plea—prayer—was soft and fervent. “Oh, Jesus. Fuck. Kenna…”
His voice broke on her name and his face spasmed as he fought to bring himself under control.
His hands fell to his sides and he leaped toward her, going to his knees on the floor beside her bed.
“What can I do? Tell me what you need.”
“Hospital,” she whispered and he nodded.
“Right. Of course.” He still looked sluggish, as if he couldn’t quite gather his thoughts. “Ambulance. Right.”
He made quick work of calling and Kenny, now utterly drained and not sure what to do next, watched him closely. It gave her something other than her grief to focus on.
He was still dressed, despite it being after midnight. His suit pants were hopelessly wrinkled, tie and jacket long gone, shirt sleeves carelessly rolled up to reveal strong forearms.
He must have been working.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
That made him pause and his brow creased as he processed her words. His lips thinned but he said nothing, merely shook his head impatiently. He was still kneeling beside the bed and he reached over to push her damp hair from her cheek. The movement was excruciatingly gentle.
“Are you in pain?” he asked, the back of his fingers absently stroking the curve of her cheek. It was the first time he’d touched her in weeks, and she helplessly leaned into his touch, craving the comfort he offered.
“Not much. Not anymore.”
“Do you think…?”
He couldn’t complete the question and she lifted her hand to fit her palm against his, pressing his hand closer to her cheek.
“Yes. I think so.”
He swore softly, vehemently, and his chin dipped as he sought to hide his expression from her. His broad shoulders were shaking with silent sobs and Kenny’s free hand curved around the back of his neck, as she shared this moment of profound grief with him.
“Has the bleeding stopped?” he asked a few moments later, after they’d both self-consciously shifted apart.
