Chapter 21

I feel like total and complete trash right now. Everything hurts. And I'm tired. Like so damn tired I can hardly move, and the thought of opening my eyes feels like the effort of a lifetime. I think I remember what happened. I think I passed out on the damn OR floor, which is, well, gross and humiliating all at the same time.

Not to mention, my family will never let this go. They'll be up my ass and around the corner over it. Then there's Bennett. Ugh. He's going to be supersonically pissed. Rightfully so, but still. Maybe I'll just sleep for a while longer. Like another decade or so.

"Katy baby, are you awake? Your heart rate is going up a little." Bennett's soothing voice filters through my ears as he runs a soft hand over my head and through my hair.

"That depends on how mad you are," I rasp, my voice sounding like I ate a hundred pounds of cotton and washed them down with sand. "On a scale from one to a hundred."

"I'm pretty fucking mad so I'll have to go with a hundred."

"Then I'm still asleep."

His lips plant against my forehead, and he murmurs into my skin, "You scared me."

"I know?—"

"No, baby, you don't. I'm not sure I've ever been as scared in my life as when I saw you pass out like that. You have to take better care of yourself. You're my baby's mommy now, and that means your health comes first."

It takes a half-second longer than it should for my sluggish brain to catch up, but when I do, I blink open my eyes, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights, and meet Bennett's deep blue ones from inches away. "Baby's mommy?"

He smiles, his nose brushing mine as he cups the back of my head. "That's you."

"So I'm…"

"Pregnant. Yes."

"Oh my god." I start to tremble, my eyes closing as tears immediately fill them. "Bennett. Are you sure?" I can't say anything else without sobbing.

I've never cried happy tears in my life. Not when I won big swim meets or got into the medical school of my choice or landed a residency back here in Boston. I know we have a long way to go, and anything can happen, but I can't begin to explain the unadulterated joy and relief swimming through me right now. It's consuming and overwhelming and I'm so glad Bennett is here right now.

I'm so glad he was the one to tell me.

"I'm sure. Your uncle told me, and then I broke about seven thousand rules, laws, and regulations and checked your chart. But only for that. I swear, I didn't sneak or look at anything else, but I had to see for myself, so I hope you're not mad about that."

"I'm not mad about that. I'm so many things right now, but mad is definitely not one of them."

He wraps his arms around me and presses his head and chest against me as I cry into him, no longer able to hold back my sobs. I reach behind his head and grip his scrub top. I'm trembling, and this time it has nothing to do with my low blood sugar.

I'm pregnant.

I'm fucking pregnant.

My life will never be the same again. And Bennett will always be a part of it.

My tongue thickens in my mouth, and I try to swallow past it. Everything is going to change now, and I need to be ready for that. A weird, almost panicky burning hits the center of my chest. It makes it feel like I'm inhaling a lungful of fire with each breath. I reach up to wipe it away only it's not going anywhere.

"Bennett…"

"It's okay, baby. I've got you. I know, and I've got you."

"You're shaking," I note, needing to focus on anything other than this feeling.

He holds me tighter. "I'm so fucking happy we're pregnant, but every time I close my eyes, I see you on that floor," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "I can't take it, Katy. I can't have anything happen to you. Not just because we're pregnant now. You hear me?"

I nod against him. "I'm sorry," I croak.

He kisses my head before pulling back and wiping the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. For a long moment, he stares into my eyes, and everything starts to shift and move. Into place or out of sync, I can't tell which. He leans in and presses his lips to mine, so gently, so tenderly, so reverently it steals my breath. His hands thread through my hair, and he holds me as he deepens it, parting my lips and tickling my tongue with his.

All too soon it's done and he's pulling back, and part of me wonders if that'll be the last time he kisses me. Can I handle it if it is?

"Can I take you home now?" Another swipe of his thumb across my cheek.

"What about your shift? What time is it?"

"It's noon. I had Dr. Wilson cover my shift. I told him I had a family emergency and that I'd pick up half of his on Saturday."

"Bennett—"

His flinty gaze cuts to mine. "Don't argue with me, Katy. No one knows I'm here with you, and I'll have your uncle wheel you out, but I want to take you home."

"Okay," I relent because I'd like to go home too. I need a shower and to sleep for a hundred years. My heart quakes in my chest as more tears fall. "I'm really pregnant?"

"You're really pregnant." He puts his hand over my lower belly. "We have a lot to talk about."

We do. A lot to talk about. And a lot is about to change between us. I went from possibly planning to move out to now living with Bennett at least until the baby is six months old. That's a long time to live with him.

My gut sinks at that thought, but I don't dwell on it. Not now. Not when I'm so fucking happy, I could burst.

"You need to talk,"I tell my uncle as he wheels me out toward the ambulance bay. I remember once when I was just coming to live with him, and he brought me here, and Layla hung out with me in the ambulance bay and braided my hair because I refused to go inside the hospital. I didn't know how to talk to my uncle at the time, but Layla had been through the same hell as I had, and she understood my pain.

I remember thinking I could make it through not having my parents if I had Layla, and my uncle made it so that I did. Now I'm starting to think that I could make it through this if I have Bennett.

But what does that even mean?

Yes, I know I care a lot for Bennett. I do have feelings for him. I have all along.

I'm in a unique position where I don't have to put my child—or myself—through the tumult of heartbreak and separation of ending something romantic with their father. My baby can be born into a clean world where its parents are amicable, their relationship is solely parental and platonic, and there is no angst or resentment as part of the equation to divert focus from them.

I can do that for my kid.

And I need to.

Falling in love with Bennett isn't an option.

Even when he holds me just right, kisses my face, wipes my tears, and tells me he wants to take care of me. He's a good man, and that's the sort of thing good men do. He'll be a great dad, which fills my heart with so much warmth, I'm overflowing with it.

It'll be fine. Hell, it'll be fucking great.

"I'm happy for you. So happy, Katy."

"You're quiet."

He chuckles. "I'm always quiet."

"Not like Uncle Lenox quiet."

"No. Definitely not that quiet," he agrees. "My Katy is pregnant and making me a grandfather. It's a lot to take in. What I will tell you is that you'll be fine. You're strong and smart and resilient and more ready for this. You're going to be a fantastic mother, Katy, and I can't wait to see it. And no matter what, you have us, your whole family, by your side and always on it."

"Am I making a mistake with him?"

He laughs incredulously. "You ask that now?"

"No. Yes. I'm not. I know I'm not."

"I agree. You're not. So stop your brain from going down rabbit holes it doesn't need to go down. Trust your gut. Trust your heart. Rely on your intuition. But also, I believe Bennett is going to be an incredible dad to your child."

He's right. As always, he's so freaking right. "Thank you," I mumble, crying again, but I needed to hear that now, even if he's said it to me dozens of times before. We reach the edge of the garage, and I slowly stand up. I'm feeling better, but I'm still a bit shaky. I turn and hug him, squeezing him tight. "I love you, Uncle Cal. Thank you for always being my hero."

"Thank you for always being mine," he replies softly, his voice thick.

"Okay, enough of this emotional shit."

He laughs, kissing my forehead and then releasing me. "Bennett is waiting. He seems like a good guy, but if he's ever not, let me know and we'll ruin his life."

I roll my eyes. "You sound like Owen and Vander."

He gives an unconcerned shrug, smirking at someone behind me, and I turn to find Bennett standing there, clearly having overheard since he's wiping at a smile on his lips. "Where do you think they learned it from?"

Bennett takes my hand and helps me into the car, and we drive back to his house. It feels surreal. All the months and years I've been thinking about this moment and it's here. Bennett brings me inside and then lifts me off my feet, carrying me toward the stairs bride-style.

"I can walk."

"I know."

"You're not going to be like this with me for the next nine months, are you?"

His eyes meet mine as he walks me up the steps, not even winded as he goes. "You passed out in my OR this morning, Katy. You've been sick all week. No way in fucking hell am I letting you risk getting dizzy and falling down the stairs."

Fine. I don't press it. Not even when he walks me into his bathroom and turns on his shower, letting the water come up to temperature. His eyes lock on the bathtub and then shoot over to me, and I can tell he's trying very hard to keep them in safe, neutral territory.

"You're thinking about the last time I took a bath in here, aren't you?"

He smirks, his dimple sinking in deep. "I think about that night every time I come in here. And I mean that literally in both ways."

"I think about that night a lot too. Every time I use Chris."

He chokes. "Chris? Who the fuck is Chris?"

I shrug. "Hemsworth, Evans, Pratt. Take your pick."

He curses under his breath. "I'm going to have to buy you a Bennett vibrator."

I try not to frown at the insinuation behind that and start to undress, only to pause when I catch Bennett watching me. We've been sleeping together for a couple of months, but now everything is different. Hell, it's in our contract.

I didn't think about it the last time we had sex.

I didn't think that would be my last time with him.

He moves in behind me and reaches around me, undoing the tie on my scrub pants. They fall down my legs along with my thong that he pushes over my hips. Without a word, he gets undressed too and follows me into the shower.

"I didn't invite you to join me," I tease.

"Yes, you did. You just didn't realize it. Besides, I wasn't giving you the choice."

I shake my head at that. Such a goddamn caveman.

The warm water feels like heaven on my aching muscles, and I reach up, brushing my hair from my face and getting it wet. I grab the shampoo, but he's right there with it, massaging it into my head, the scent of him surrounding me since he used his and not mine, clinging to the steam and my senses. He does the same thing with the conditioner all the while we're silent, neither of us knowing how to start this.

He dumps a handful of bodywash into his palm and rubs his hands together, creating a foamy lather. With his eyes on mine, he starts to wash my body, rubbing, massaging, and cleaning me without lingering anywhere too long. His hands coast over my breasts, between my legs, and across my ass.

He's hard, but he's not paying any attention to that. This is about him taking care of me, as he always does, and I can't get enough of it. Of him. When he's done with me, he forces me to sit on the stone bench he has in here, and then he quickly washes his own hair and body before he turns off the shower, hops out to wrap a towel around his waist, and then returns with one for me.

"Can you eat anything?" he finally asks, his voice a soft purr.

"Maybe some broth. I need to check my glucose and make sure I'm not having any rebound hypoglycemia."

"Do you feel like you are?"

I shake my head, and relief swarms his features.

"Good. Come with me." He lifts me again, not giving me the choice, and then sets me down on his bed. With a quick kiss to my nose, he goes down the hall to my room and returns with a thong and a pair of sweatpants that he hands me to put on.

"I need a shirt." I laugh the words.

"I know."

He moves into his closet and comes back out with a T-shirt and sweatshirt of his.

I raise a questioning eyebrow, but he ignores it as he gets himself dressed. He wants me to wear his clothes. Probably for the same reason he put his bodywash in my bathroom and anytime I attempt to bring my own back in there, it magically disappears with only his to be found. I like being wrapped in him. I feel comforted and safe when I smell his scent on my skin.

And now, with it surrounding me in his clothes, well…

I stop thinking about it and just put them on, inhaling deeply and not even caring if he catches me doing it. I want more of this because I don't want it to end between us. But deep down, I know it has to. Even if it makes my heart hurt in the worst of ways.