20. Zara

Ihang up the phone and shove it in my pocket. "We need to take her to Urgent Care. Go and get the car seat."

"What's wrong with her?" he asks desperately. "Is she going to be okay? Fuck! Fuck! I knew I shouldn't have left her. I had this feeling this morning, but she felt fine and took her bottle?—"

"Ben. Go and get the car seat," I say calmly as he runs his hand through his hair but doesn't make a move. "Go, now, please."

"Yes, yes." He shoots off downstairs, and I hear the clatter of the door opening again. Meanwhile, I do up the poppers on Mia's onesie and wrap her in a light blanket, not too thick, just enough to keep her safe from the chill outside. Every omega bone in my body is vibrating with the need to protect this little one.

Mia is fussing again, a low whine that tells me she's uncomfortable but not in immediate danger. I pick her up, trying not to jar her little body too much. "Shush now, darling," I whisper. "We're going to see a doctor, and they'll make you feel better."

Ben's back in what feels like seconds, car seat in tow. He's pulled off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves like he's about to do battle. His alpha instincts are probably through the roof right now.

"Is she okay? Is she worse?" he asks, his voice cracking with the fear every parent knows when their little one is sick.

"She's the same, Ben," I reply soothingly. "But we're not taking any chances, okay?" I hold out Mia for him to take so he can place her carefully in the car seat.

He cradles her close, breathing deeply like he's trying to reassure himself that she's still here and real. It breaks my heart a little because I can sense his fear as tangibly as if it were mine. His pinecone scent has filled the air with his panic, and it's making my head spin a little.

Ben carries her down carefully and steadily and clicks the car seat into place as I quickly make up four bottles and follow with the baby bag.

When I exit the house and close the front door, I see Ben standing there frozen for a moment before reality seems to settle back over him. "Right," he says firmly, nodding to himself as if trying to shake off the panic. "Let's go."

The drive is tense. Mia's soft fussing from the backseat is like a thread pulling taut with each mile we cover. Ben's knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his eyes focused so intently on the road that I'm not even sure he's blinking.

I reach over and lay a hand on his arm. "She'll be okay," I whisper, but he hears me.

He glances at me, then back to the road. "I know," he says, but his voice is heavy with worry.

Time passes too slowly. Ben wasn't kidding when he said the hospital was an hour's drive away. Thank God this isn't a life-or-death emergency.

We hope.

When we finally arrive, Ben parks the car, and I get out with the bag while he gets Mia, still in her car seat, to take to the Reception.

"Mia Scott," Ben states. "She's got a fever."

I take over and tell the Receptionist all that I know and have done.

When she tells us to take a seat in the child-friendly waiting room, I can't just sit there. I unbuckle Mia and try to give her a bottle, which she refuses. That's not good. She starts crying again so I walk with her, up and down, up and down wearing a path in the floor until finally her name is called.

"Mia Scott?"

"Here," I say as Ben races over to the nurse, and I join them at a more sedate pace.

"Could you follow me, please?" the nurse says with a smile that is meant to be calming but does little to calm Ben down.

We trail behind her down a corridor that smells like antiseptic. It clings to the brightly painted walls despite the cheerful drawings of zoo animals trying to convince us otherwise.

She ushers us into a small examination room where another nurse waits, this one holding a digital thermometer.

Ben's alpha control frays even more at the edges. "Please, just help her," he pleads.

I place Mia down on the examination table and the nurse checks her temperature. She gives no indication one way or the other. "Dr Evans will be with you shortly," she reassures us as she makes notes in her chart.

Ben and I sit on either side of the examination table. We're both staring at Mia, who's now settled on the table, looking small and vulnerable amidst the white sheet.

I take Ben's hand in mine, giving it a squeeze. He returns it, his grip firm, grounding me as much as I am him.

A few minutes later, Dr Evans walks in—a kind woman with kind eyes. She washes her hands before turning to us with a warm smile.

"How are we doing today?" she asks brightly as if we're here for a routine check-up rather than a feverish baby emergency. But her tone is just what we need, the normalcy of it all easing some of the tension in my shoulders.

"We're a bit worried," I manage to say. "Her fever was forty when we took it last."

Dr Evans nods as she slips on gloves. "Understandable. Fevers can be scary, but you've done exactly the right thing bringing Mia in." She approaches the table and starts examining Mia gently, asking questions as she goes.

"Has she had any other symptoms? Coughing, vomiting, diarrhoea?"

I shake my head. "Just the fever, and she's been fussier than usual," I reply. "And I think she's teething."

Dr Evans nods and checks for a rash anyway and looks in Mia's ears, then listens to her chest with a stethoscope. She's thorough but quick, making soft cooing sounds that have Mia staring at her with wide-eyed trust.

"I can't see any outward signs so it could be the teething or possibly a standard viral infection. You're doing the right thing by giving her Calpol at four-hour intervals, and you need to get fluids into her. Her nappy is wet, so that's a good sign, but you need to keep an eye on that."

"But she's refusing her bottle," Ben says, the worry flooding his voice.

"Try a syringe for cool boiled water, just little bits at a time," Dr Evans suggests easily.

"Yes," I agree quickly. "We can do that."

Dr Evans smiles and turns back to Mia, doing up her onesie again. "You've given your mummy and daddy quite a scare, haven't you, little one?"

"Erm," I start, but Ben shakes his head. I close my mouth, understanding he doesn't want to get into our situation, which is fine. As long as he doesn't mind the good doctor thinking I'm Mia's mum.

"If she is still refusing fluids and has stopped wetting her nappy by tonight, bring her back, and we'll admit her with an IV."

"Okay," I say with a brisk nod as Ben appears to go further into a meltdown.

Dr Evans writes up a few notes and hands us a small card with the emergency contact number for the paediatric ward. "Any concerns at all, don't hesitate to call," she says with such sincerity that it's hard not to feel comforted.

We thank her profusely and stand to leave. Mia is now cradled in Ben's arms and goes back to sleep instantly.

As we walk back through the corridors towards the waiting area, I can feel Ben's tension increase with each step. "She's going to be fine," I reassure him.

Ben offers me a weak smile. "Yeah."

We grab the car seat and bag we left in the waiting room in our hurry to get Mia seen and step into the sunlight streaming through the front doors of the hospital.

The drive home is less tense than the ride in, but still enough to send my omega instincts into overdrive. Mia dozes in her car seat all the way back home, and as soon as we arrive, Ben scoops her up. "I'll try her with a bottle."

"Okay," I say, smiling as I gather up the baby bag and follow him inside.

Back in the nursery, Mia refuses her bottle, protesting loudly and sending Ben into a further downward spiral.

Working efficiently, I get the cool boiled water into a sterilised bottle, syringe some of it out and hand it to him. He glares at it as if I handed him a snake.

"Here," I say, taking Mia from him and sitting in the armchair with her nestled close to me. I hold my hand out for the syringe and attempt to get water into Mia's mouth, but she's gritting her gums, making it impossible to get anything past them. "It's okay, we'll try again in a bit," I reassure Ben.

He nods, looking anxious. I pass her back over as I rise, and he takes her gently. He sits in the chair, just staring at her.

"I'll be back to give her another dose of Calpol in a bit," I murmur, leaving them alone as I make my way back downstairs.

Putting the kettle on for a pot of tea, Ben needs one and so do I after this hectic morning, I jump when the front door bursts open and Liam rushes in with Henry hot on his heels.

"Everything okay?" Liam asks, looking around, "Ben bolted like a bat of hell was after him. Henry and I have been panicking. Neither of you were answering your phones."

"Mia has a high fever, so we took her to Urgent Care. We're back now," I say.

He nods, running a hand through his hair. "Is she okay?"

"We think so. Just teething or a mild viral infection."

"Oh, good," he says, breathing out. "Kettle on?"

Smiling, I say, "Yeah." Giving Henry a quick smile and a nod, I pour tea into the pot and then one straight into a mug for Ben. Taking it upstairs, I enter the nursery quietly, and Ben looks up. "Need to keep your fluids up as well," I say softly.

"Thanks," he says. "Does she need more Calpol?"

"Yes. I'll do it. Put her on the changing table."

He nods, grateful that I'm not abandoning him to the task. I measure out the medicine and administer it gently as Ben stands close by, observing the process.

"I'll change her while I'm here," I murmur, and he nods.

We both bend down at the same time to grab a nappy from underneath, our faces close together.

His blue eyes gaze into mine, and my entire body goes on the fritz. I feel my insides vibrating, and I can't stop it. I purr directly in his face, loudly, contentedly, seeing the shock register in his features as my cheeks go flaming hot.

We both straighten up quickly, his eyes hooded, but before I can say anything, not that I even know what to say, he lets out a soft, possessive growl that sends a thrill over every inch of my body. His horror at his action mortifies me, and I stammer, thrusting the nappy at him and lunging for the door, which I swung closed when I came in. Grabbing the handle, I stupidly push it instead of pulling it. But it's too late to stop my body from moving towards what I expected to be the gap in the doorway. My head connects with the door as I yank it back, and I muffle my curse as a throbbing pain shoots through my head.

I can feel Ben's eyes on me, but I have to get out of there. This was unexpected, and the embarrassment that floods me is heinous.

I scamper down the stairs, tears pricking my eyes as I clap my hand to my head, feeling a big bump forming already.