Page 43 of Now and Then

I did everything right. And it still wasn’t enough. Not enough to heal my heart after my dad’s passing. Not enough to hold my relationship together. And not enough to keep this baby I loved and wanted more than anything.

My hands move before my brain does.

I call Hunter. He wraps me in a blanket. He carries me to the car and drives to the hospital.

The nurse tries to make him leave, but I reach for his hand. “No, please. He can stay.”

They get me changed into a hospital gown, insert an IV, and the doctor comes in.

“How far along are you?” the doctor asks.

“I’m not sure. I-I just found out a few weeks ago, but then my dad died and I—” Sobs rack my body.

Hunter sits on the bed, hand settling at the base of my neck, his thumb brushing gently against my skin as though he can feel the storm brewing beneath my ribs.

“Take your time, Miss Bradley,” the doctor reassures me.

Numbness creeps along my body. The doctor says something about tests, but I mostly hear buzzing.

It feels like an eternity. Waiting. Always waiting.

When the doctor comes back, I already know what he’s going to tell me. I think I knew it from the first cramp.

“Miss Bradley, I’m sorry, but you’ve lost the baby.”

I just nod.

The kitchen feels too still now. Too small.

“In a matter of weeks, my dad was gone. Brandon was gone. And . . . so was the baby.”

My heart surges against the walls I’ve kept around it, finally breaking free. Tears run down my cheeks, warm and unrelenting. The kitchen is so quiet, I’m not even sure if Navy and Greer are still beside me.

Greer steps behind me, slips her arms around my waist, and pulls me into her. I turn and bury my face in the curve of her shoulder while Navy’s hand rests on my upper back.

Minutes pass, and soon Greer’s shirt is soaked through, but neither she nor Navy say anything. They hold steadfast and let me cry six years’ worth of buried emotions. Eventually, my sobbing slows, and I stutter through each breath, coming back to my body.

I’ve kept my emotions locked away so long, I forgot what it feels like to feel.

I squeeze Greer, sniffle loudly, and pull away.

“Sutton,” Greer says, “does anyone else know about this?”

“Only Hunter.”

“Why?” Navy palms my cheek and turns my face toward her. “Why would you choose to go through this without more support?”

Stepping away from their cocoon, I pad into the living room and snuggle into the corner of the sectional. Navy ninja jumps over the back of the couch and plops next to me. I laugh as Greer tosses us a light blue blanket and sits on my other side.

“Losing Dad was hell enough.” My heart beats against my sternum, each beat reviving the bruised and battered organ. “I didn’t want to add something else to my family’s plate so soon after losing Dad. So, I kept the miscarriage to myself, and then time passed. And even though it’s been six years, I still haven’t been able to talk about it.”

“Until now.” Greer squeezes my hand, and I nod.

I sink back into the crevice between cushions and pull the blanket over my shoulders. My heart is wrung out. Relief settles in first. The rest, the messier feelings, I’m not ready to name. But for now, it feels good not to hide beneath lies and half-truths.

“Sutton,” Navy says. “I can’t even imagine the amount of pain you went through.” She rubs her hand over my thigh, soothing in that motherly way she has.

“How?” Greer asks as she tucks herself even closer to me and lays her head on my shoulder.