Chapter Twenty

Brad

The phone at the bar rings, and I hate when it does—it's normally someone looking for their drunk loved one. I'm on my own for the next hour or two.

"Happy's," I say, answering the call.

"Brad, don't panic, but I have just brought Dylan to the hospital."

"Which one," I say, the panic of course setting in. Why didn't Dylan call me? Is she hurt badly enough she couldn't?

"New Hope Private," Roman replies, and I hang up on him and run into my office. Grabbing my keys, I hurry around, locking the place up.

By the time I get to my ute, ten minutes have passed, and my palms are sweating. She will be fine, I repeat to myself for the millionth time. Roman wouldn't have been the one to call me if something was seriously wrong. Surely Dominic would be her next of kin, and he would have called.

So many thoughts fill my head on the drive over, and I don't think there is a time I have felt physically sick at the thought of someone being hurt.

The drive to the hospital takes me twice as long as it should because some dick ran a red light and caused an accident. All the traffic had to be diverted around it.

By the time I race into the emergency room, I see Vada and Roman waiting. I don't go over to them; I go straight to the counter.

"My fiancée is in there somewhere. Her friends brought her in."

"Name?" the lady asks.

"Dylan Mitchell."

"Date of birth?"

Shit, what's with all the questions? I ramble off her birthday, and she clicks away at the computer.

"What is your name?"

"Brad Walker."

The woman looks at the screen again. "I'm sorry, sir, we don't have a Brad listed. We have a Dominic Mitchell."

Shit, has anyone called Dom?

"We have tried calling him," she continues, "but his phone goes straight to voicemail."

"Why can't you just go and ask her? She will confirm that we are getting married in five weeks from now."

"She is currently having tests done. If you take a seat, I can ask her as soon as the doctors are done."

Fuck this, I need to see her now. This is one more reason why I won't stop the wedding. I love her, and not being able to get through those doors to see her cements that. I wasn't even this worried after I pushed Chad out of a tree, and he was unconscious the entire way to the hospital in the back of Ralph's car.

That's when I remember Chad's brother husbands work here. Pulling up Chad's number, I hit call.

"Sup fucker," is how he answers the call.

"I need your help," I say, ignoring his crass greeting.

"What's wrong? I don't like that tone in your voice."

"Dylan is in the hospital. They can't get ahold of Dom, and they won't let me go back to see her. Can you call one of your husbands and see if they can let me in?"

"I'll see what I can do," he says and cuts the call.

I walk over to Vada and Roman and sit down with them. Vada has her headphones on and is rocking, and Roman keeps his hand on her back.

Seconds turn into minutes, and I bounce my knee up and down to curb off the anger that is running through my veins. Someone has to know something—I hate knowing nothing.

"What happened?" I ask Roman.

"We don't know. We were all laughing, and the next minute, she buckled over in pain. She vomited all over my shoes, and I put her back in the car and sped all the way here. When they got her out of the car, there was so much blood. I have never seen anything like it."

I nod, and slight relief washes over me. Dylan knows how to handle this. I still feel like shit that I can't be there for her when I should be the one by her side.

The double doors click open, and a familiar face pops his head out. Why the fuck is Logan here, and how is he back there? He looks around and motions for me to come—he doesn't have to tell me twice. I head through the door, and he puts his finger to his lips and tiptoes down the hall, looking around to make sure the coast is clear as he motions for me to follow him. I don't know why he is being so sneaky—there are a heap of people walking around back here. No one will question us if we act normal, but he looks like he is about to body roll across the floor to avoid someone. We walk towards the patient area—I only know because there is a sign—and he opens a curtain to reveal Dylan.

"Logan," a woman's voice says from nearby, but I don't take my eyes off my girl. Logan pushes my back and closes the curtain. "What are you doing back here? You will get us fired."

"Why would the hospital give me an access card if I wasn't allowed back here? You know my future father-in-law is loaded and he will tell you it's fine that I'm here."

"One . . . two . . ."

"Shit, I'm outta here."

"Hi," Dylan whispers, and I move to the side of her bed and take her hand.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner. They wouldn't let me back because I'm not your next of kin."

"Only for a few more weeks," she croaks. "Then you'll have put a ring on it."

"You will be Mrs Brad Walker, and we will live happily ever after with our love plant and Mr Sparkles, which is still a ridiculous name, if you ask me. But so long as you pay him attention, you can call him whatever you like."

The curtains are pulled open and a woman around my age steps in. "Hi, I'm Karla. I don't think blow jobs are wise, considering Dylan has been clotting a lot today."

Dylan laughs along with the nurse, and I go bright red. Today isn't a day for firsts apparently.

"That's not . . ."

"I'm joking. I just need to take Dylan's obs and then the doctor will be around to see her shortly."

Once the nurse leaves, I sit beside Dylan and hold her hand. "Are you okay?" She looks a little pale but otherwise seems okay.

"I'm fine. This hasn't happened in some time." She moves and then groans. "Ugh, I need to go to the bathroom. I've bled through again."

I know talking about this isn't easy for women—most men are grossed out by the fact that women bleed. I'm not one of those people. It's natural, and it's just blood.

As Dylan swings her legs over the edge of the bed, I offer her my arm to help support her. Walking with her to the bathroom, I follow her in.

"What are you doing?" she asks, concerned.

"I'm helping you." I thought that much was obvious.

"You don't need to be in here—you don't need to see this." She cringes as she walks over to the toilet.

"Dylan, you need to get used to me being around because I'm not going anywhere. It's you and me. It's just blood. You need help, so I'm going to help you." I don't give her a chance to argue. "Get undressed and hop in the shower. I'll go find you some clean clothes and a pad." She stands there for a moment thinking it over before finally nodding her head and getting undressed.

I pick up her clothes and put them in a plastic bag that I find on the counter in the bathroom. After a quick chat with the nurse, I have a clean gown and underwear for her to change into.

Slipping back into the bathroom, I help her dry off and get changed. Her bleeding doesn't slow, so I grab a washcloth and clean the inside of her thighs.

"Thank you," she whispers above me.

I kiss her stomach before standing. "There is no need to thank me, Dylan." I give her another quick kiss, on the lips this time, and help her out of the bathroom.

Caleb is waiting in her room with a female doctor I don't know. "Hi, Dylan, how are you feeling?" Caleb asks as I help her back into bed.

"Like I'm bleeding to death," she jokes, trying to cover the worry in her voice.

"I'm Doctor Miller, one of the gynaecologists here." She shakes Dylan's hand before turning to me to shake my hand.

"I'm Dylan's fiancé, Brad."

She nods her head in a professional manner while Caleb chuckles.

"Bet that was weird to say, huh?" Caleb quips while Dr Miller looks between us, confused. "It's a new engagement," Caleb offers, and she just smiles.

"Congratulations. I can confirm you aren't bleeding to death, but I think it will be beneficial to do a D&C," Doctor Miller says.

"A what?" I ask, not having any idea about female anatomy and procedures.

"A dilation and curettage, which is a procedure to remove tissue from inside your uterus. We perform D&Cs to diagnose and treat certain uterine conditions—such as heavy bleeding—or to clear the uterine lining. During the procedure, small instruments are used to dilate the cervix. Next, a surgical instrument called a curette, which can be a sharp instrument or suction device, is used to remove uterine tissue. We'll take some samples while we are in there to see if we can find out what is going on. Dylan, we will need to sedate you, so we'll schedule it for later this afternoon and keep you in overnight."

Dylan goes even more pale, so I sit beside her on the bed and pull her into my side. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere," I whisper in her ear, before turning back to Dr Miller.

"Are there any risks or reasons for concern?" I ask, wanting to know as much as I can.

"There is always a risk with anaesthesia, and some minor risks for the procedure itself." Her phone starts beeping, and she looks at it briefly. "I apologise. One of my patients has just gone into labour. I really need to get up to delivery, but I'll be back as soon as I can to go through everything with you," she says in a hurry.

"It's okay, Meg. I'll stick around and go through everything with them," Caleb offers, and Dr Miller seems torn.

She looks between Dylan and me. "Is that okay, guys? I don't mind coming back, but my boss is the one in labour, and I'm the only one she'll let deliver the twins. Otherwise, I would have had someone else take my place so I could stay with you."

I appreciate Dr Miller's honesty, and I have no issue with Caleb going through everything with us, but it's Dylan's choice. She may be more comfortable talking to a female.

"It's okay. I'm happy with Caleb taking over as long as he is okay being here." Dylan's voice is distant, and I can see all the wheels turning in her head. I pull her closer and tuck her head into the crook of my neck.

"Thank you, Dylan. I'll be back as soon as I can," Dr Miller says as she leaves the room.

"I'll give you two a few minutes and be back soon." Caleb meets my eyes and I nod my thanks.

I think both Dylan and I need a few moments to collect ourselves.