Page 82 of Dissonance

“Fine?” I shrug. “Five, six hours on average.”

“Stress levels?”

“High,” Lockie says before I manage to. His gaze stays on me, jaw ticking once. I shoot him a glare, and he raises an eyebrow without a trace of apology.

“I’m managing it,” I say.

Dr. Bryan looks at me over her glasses with the patience of a woman who’s had this exact conversation more times than she can count.

“Stress doesn’t directly cause preeclampsia, but it absolutely contributes to elevated blood pressure. And sustaining that elevation is what we want to avoid.” She leans forward slightly. “I need you to slow down, Thea. Not tomorrow, not next week. Now. Reduced hours, proper sleep, and I need you to take your stress load seriously, not because I doubt you can handle it, but because right now, according to this”—she taps her tablet—“your body is telling us it’s too much.”

“I have a business to run,” I say, more to myself than to her.

“I know.”

“I have clients who—” I falter before I can finish.

“Thea.” Her voice is gentle and immoveable all at once. “I’m not asking you to shut everything down. I’m telling you that if your blood pressure keeps climbing, we’ll be having a very different conversation. We may be looking at hospital monitoring, medication, and if it becomes severe…” She stops, holding my gaze. “I need you to understand why I’m telling you this.”

I want to argue—hell, I have what I’d say all ready, fully formed and airtight; I’m fine, I know my limits, I’ve been doing this for the last ten years since I started my damn company, I know my own body. Except even as I think that, my defense weakens. Knowing your limits and respecting them aren’t always the same thing.

Lockie’s hand moves slowly up and down my arm, and as I look up at him, his expression makes me pause. Because that look in his eyes—the one I clocked when Dr. Bryan first said the word preeclampsia—it hasn’t left. And I’m realizing it wasn’t put there today. It’s been there a while, the look of someone who’s been worried and said nothing because he knew I’d push back.

And knowing that takes the argument right out of me. Not the doctor, not the numbers on a chart. Him. The fact he’s been carrying this quietly, for me, because that’s what he does.

“Okay,” I whisper.

Dr. Bryan smiles sympathetically and stands, tucking the tablet under one arm. “I want to see you back in two weeks, and in the meantime, I’m going to start you on a low dose aspirin; it’s completely safe and standard practice to help keep your blood pressure in check. I’d also like you to get a home monitor so you can track it yourself between visits.” She glances between us. “If you notice any sudden swelling, severe headaches, changes in vision, anything, don’t wait for the appointment. Call us directly.” She pauses, giving my wrist a brief, reassuring squeeze. “We caught this early, Thea. That’s all that matters.”

Then she leaves, and I stare at Lockie’s strong fingers curled around mine. He steps in front of me, his thighs pressing gently against my knees.

“I’m putting her at risk.” The truth of it lands like a stone.

“No,” he says, voice certain, no room for argument. “You didn’t know. Now you do.”

“I should have—”

“Thea.” He cups the back of my neck, drawing me forward until my forehead rests against his chest. His hand moves through my hair, his words a low rumble I feel as he speaks. “You’re not in this alone. You haven’t been for a while now. Let me help carry some of the load.”

I close my eyes, my hands curling into his shirt. All the emails, the calls, the never-ending to-do list. None of it seems as overwhelming as it did an hour ago.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says above my head. “Both of you are going to be fine.”

Both of you.

Me and our daughter.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Lockie

Declan’s still talking when I shift the phone against my ear, pacing the gravel beyond the woods, boots crunching with each step. My cabin sits through the trees behind me, a soft glow shining from the windows into the last of the afternoon light.

Forty minutes outside of Taunton Falls, I bought it for the quiet, the trees, the stream, the green that reminded me of the hills of Carallan. Close enough that if Cooper needed me, I could be there. Far enough that the noise of the city can’t reach.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” Declan says. “I bought something that was already up and running. You’re wanting to build from scratch. Different ballgame entirely, man.”

“Aye,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair. “I know.”