Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Mason

I arrive at Ainsley's around five. I hate that we haven't found a house or an apartment for her to move out of Porter's place, but I don't say anything as I make my way inside the property. When she opens the door, my eyes widen. She's pale, her lips almost white.

"You don't look well."

"I'm fine." Her voice is almost a whisper.

"We're going to the emergency room."

She shakes her head. "I don't want to go."

I grab her purse from the hook next to the entry and direct her toward the rental car. "What's happening?"

"I have a bad feeling," she mumbles as I help her get into the passenger seat. She touches her belly, and I notice a small bump, the tiny swelling on her stomach makes her look adorable."Something is just…"

"It's going to be okay," I assure her. "You should stay calm and positive. How are your blood levels?"

"They're fine. I checked them earlier."

That doesn't explain why she looks like a ghost. Neither one of us say a word during the drive to the hospital, but I hold her hand the whole time. There's a sadness lingering in the air that's almost choking us. I don't even dare to say it'll be okay.

I sigh with relief when we reach the hospital. Thankfully, there aren't many people waiting in the emergency room. They let us in within the first thirty minutes. While one nurse asks questions, the other hooks Ainsley to an IV and checks her vitals.

A doctor comes in a few minutes after they leave.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asks, looking at the chart. He raises an eyebrow giving her a judgmental stare. "Pregnant at twenty-one."

"Focus on her health," I say with a threatening warning.

"I know something is wrong," Ainsley whispers. "I'm not feeling well. As I told the nurses there's not one specific symptom, but?—"

"We can do a scan, but you're not due for one until the baby is twenty weeks old," the doctor cuts her off mid-sentence. I'm hating his fucking attitude. "Running tests because you have a bad feeling is… I can't put that in the chart. There's no code for ‘bad feeling' in the insurance system. We can't bill it, and they won't pay."

"I'll pay." I pull out my wallet. "Money isn't an object."

"You don't have to," Ainsley says. "I have my parents' credit card."

The doctor snorts. "Of course, your parents can pay for your irresponsibility."

"We need another doctor," I say with a low, threatening voice. "Now, before I find the director of this hospital, and have you fired—I know people."

Do I know people? Not really, but I learned from my father that sometimes you can use fear to make others do what you want. The middle-aged man doesn't give a fight. He slumps his shoulders and runs out of the room. A nurse comes inside. "The obstetrician on call should be here soon. In the meantime, I'll do your ultrasound."

Ainsley mumbles something I can't understand. She's shrinking in the hospital bed, losing her energy. I'm not panicking, but I have no idea how to help her. If someone could just come and tell us that the baby is fine and that she's going to be okay.

Is the isolation getting to her? Maybe my father is right, and I need to call her parents.

As the nurse connects a machine and gets out a tube of gel she says, "Sorry, some doctors… he's been here for almost thirty-seven hours. It's not an excuse for his behavior, but when you're overworked, you lose sight of reality."

"It's okay," Ainsley mumbles.

"This is going to feel cold," the nurse warns Ainsley before squirting some of the gel on her small bump.

We watch the nurse do the scan. She moves the wand from left to right. I'm holding Ainsley's hands as we wait for her to tell us that the baby is fine. After a long silence, she wipes the wand, then Ainsley's belly, and looks at us. "I'm sorry. There's no heartbeat."

"What do you mean?" My voice sounds like a wounded animal.

"Are you sure?" Ainsley asks. "It's a perfect rhythm, it goes, thump-thump-thump. Try again."

"The baby stopped growing a week ago." The nurse's voice is low.

"No," Ainsley sobs. "You're wrong. I…"

I take her into my arms, and it's then when I realize that I'm crying with her. We lost the baby. Everything that happens next is almost a blur. The obstetrician arrives. She's moving Ainsley to a private room where they induce labor. Four hours of cramps, contractions, and tears.

Every second that passes is ripping me apart.

Slowly.

I've been in pain.

I've seen pain.

But never this raw and heart-wrenching.

There are no words between Ainsley and me, but I never leave her side. I hold onto her until the end.Until the last push. I clean every drop of sweat and it hurts too much to know that after this, we'll go home empty-handed.

"Do you want to see him?" the doctor asks.

Ainsley looks at me and nods.

They take him away for a few seconds and bring him back, clean. He fits in her hand. "We should name him," she mumbles. "He needs a name, don't you think?"

I kiss the top of her head. "He does."

"I'm sorry." She places him close to her chest and whispers, "I tried to keep you safe."

"It's not your fault," the doctor says. "You need to rest. We're going to add insulin to the IV and some pain medication. We'll keep you overnight."

"Thank you," Ainsley says, never taking her gaze away from the baby. "James. We should call him James. There's one in every Colthurst generation."

"Sir." A nurse grabs my attention. "Would you mind leaving for a few minutes? We're going to get her ready. I'll call you before we move her to another room."

I nod, kissing Ainsley's head and then James.

We leave the hospital on Friday. She doesn't talk or move much. It's like dealing with a ghost. I help her with the insulin shots and prepare us food. When I wake up on Sunday morning, she's in the kitchen, cooking.

"Good morning," I greet her.

"Thank you," she says, her attention on the bowl. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Always," I mumble. "Do you need any help?"

"Why don't you cut some strawberries?"

I want to ask her how she's feeling, but the answer is so obvious I keep my mouth shut.

"Maybe I should study abroad next year," she says. "I'm going to apply for several internships. I need to look into adding classes next semester too."

This Ainsley is different from the one I held yesterday. And I'm worried about the drastic change. Is it the trauma, the denial…? I've been taking classes on psychology so I'm able to help the victims we rescue. I'm not an expert, but this behavior doesn't look normal.

I don't want to invalidate her feelings or do anything that might trigger her, so I ask, "You are? What changed?"

"Everything," she answers. "Tomorrow I'm going back to school, catching up with my classes won't be too hard. If I explain to them what…"

She stares at her small bump. It's still there as a reminder of the loss. Two days. James has been gone for two days, and it feels like it happened a minute ago. I thought I was going to be able to protect him. But I didn't. The doctor said there's nothing we could've done to prevent what happened, but I still don't believe her.

I'm having a hard time inhaling and exhaling. Ainsley… well, how is it possible that she can just say, I'm changing my life .

"Nine, are you okay?"

She nods. "It's going to get better. Just promise me that you won't stop talking to me like everyone else in my life."

"Reach out to them," I insist.

"No. I'll be fine without them."

I have no doubt about that. Maybe she's not wrong about her family not giving a shit about her. Matthew and Jacob have yet to drag their asses to Austin and check on her.

Reaching for her hand, I squeeze it. "Even when I'm not around, I'm thinking of you."

She sighs, and I don't like the way her shoulders slump. "It sounds like you're about to disappear."

"There's a long-term project that needs my attention. I'll be off the grid, but when I have reception, you'll be my first call. I promise."

"What do you do?"

I smirk. "You'll have to guess."

"My theory is that you're going to park your butt on the couch and play video games without interruption. You know, like that guy in PCU who has to watch shows to graduate."

"What is PCU ?"

"A movie with Jeremy Piven." She waves a hand. "Never mind. I forget that not everyone watches every movie that's been made. That's what happens when your father is a movie geek—and an actor, a director… Gabe has issues."

It sounds like she misses her parents. I dare to say it for the last time. "You should call them."

"If you suggest that again, we're going to have a problem."

I raise my hands in surrender. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Are you close to your parents?"

"Dad and I are getting along better. Mom… well, she's Mom. I talk to her often, but she gets upset when I disappear for months at a time."

She presses a hand on top of her belly. "When I have a kid, I'm going to try to have a balance between hovering and… well, my parents, who don't give a flying fuck about me."

"Let me know how that works."

"You're not having a family?"

"Who knows, I'm twenty-five, and there are a lot of things I'd like to accomplish before I'm forty. Kids aren't in the cards."

She scrunches her nose. "As long as you don't do what Gabe is doing and date women half your age."

It's on the tip of my tongue to remind her that those are just publicity stunts, but I don't. Though I care about her, her relationship with her parents isn't my problem. As I told my father last night when he called me, we can't fix something that's been broken since the moment Gabe and Chris decided to live a double life.