Page 118 of Don't Think

I’m trying to hold it together, but my emotions are tearing me to pieces—and right now, they’re winning.

Part of me is happy for Nora since she gets to bring another life into the world. But the other part? The one still reeling from the loss I haven’t even begun to process? That part is shattered.

I’m mourning everything Jax and I might never have. The little kicks. The late-night cravings. Building a nursery. Hearing a baby call me “mama” again for the first time.

It’stoofucking much.

I can’t hold it in anymore. I drop my head, and a sob rips out of me. It shakes through my whole body, and the tears come fast. Pain flares in my side, tugging at the fresh incision, and it only makes the sobs worse. My chest feels like it’s folding in on itself.

Ana’s voice is tight with worry as she quickly gets up and sits beside me on the bed. “Allie, what is it? Are you okay?”

Nora grabs my hand, squeezing it like she’s trying to ground me. “Should we get Jax? Do you want him?” she asks, her voice laced with panic.

I cover my face with shaking hands, trying to breathe, trying to think, but everything’s spinning.

Without another word, Ana and Nora both jump up and rush to the door.

“We’ll go get him, Al,” Nora says, her voice laced with worry but trying so hard to be full of reassurance.

Not even a minute later, the door swings open again, and Ana steps in with Jax right behind her. The moment his eyes meet mine, the color drains from his face. He freezes in place, like seeing me like this knocks the air out of him.

He leans over, whispering something to Ana, too low for me to hear. She gives him a small, understanding nod, then quietly slips back out, closing the door behind her.

Jax walks slowly to the bed, placing a warm hand on the back of mine, rubbing soft circles. “Do you need anything, love? Are you in pain?” he murmurs.

I shake my head, unable to speak while the tears still pour. The bed rail clicks down, and then I feel the mattress shift while he climbs in beside me. I curl toward him, pressing my face into his chest, trembling from the emotionalandphysical pain.

He wraps his arms around me, holding me close, smoothing my hair with a tenderness that breaks me all over again.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers into my ear, again and again. “I’ve got you.”

When my breathing finally steadies, I take a deep breath, still tucked against his chest.

“They said the windshield severed one of my fallopian tubes,” I say, my voice thin and shaky.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I slowly pull back, just enough to meet his eyes.

“The doctor said it’d be hard for me to get pregnant again without help,” I whisper, the words catching on a sob. “And even if Idid… I’d be high-risk.”

“I’m so sorry, Allie,” Jax murmurs, his voice breaking with mine.

I can see it on his face—the way he’s trying so hard to be strong for me. But I know this is hitting him too. Seeing me like this? After what happened with his mom? It’s a lot. Still, I can’t stop the words from spilling out.

“I wanted one more,” I admit, barely audible. “I’m so grateful for my girls, I don’t want it to sound like I’m not. I just… I always pictured this big, happy family.”

I draw in a ragged breath, the ache in my chest swelling every second that passes.

“You’re not being selfish, Allie,” he says, tightening his hold on me. “You’re hurting because something was taken from you. It’s okay to grieve that. You have every right to feel this—allof it.”

My nails dig into his bicep while I try to hold back another wave of tears, using him as the anchor I never realized I would need this much.

“I’m right here with you,” he murmurs. “Every step of the way.”

“You have to go back to Wales, Jax,” I say, my voice strained. “You’re only here for a few more months, and I have to get back to my girls.”

“Listen to me, Allie,” he says steadily, shifting in the bed to face me. He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears clinging to my cheeks.

“I’m not leaving.”