Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I hear nothing so I head toward the bedroom, my steps slowing with dread.
I find her in the master bathroom, sitting hunched over on the toilet. Her long hair obscures her face. My eyes drop to the floor where I see discarded leggings and her panties, a bright red splotch shining like a beacon.
I ignore the wave of dizziness that hits me. Moving to Kiera, I squat before her, hands on her shoulders. “Hey… baby. I’m here.”
Her head lifts and I brush her hair back. Tear-stained cheeks and tortured eyes. “Um… I had some really bad cramping, but now it’s gone.” Her lower lip quivers. “I’m afraid to look.”
If there was ever a time in my life I needed to be strong, this is it. Kiera looks broken and although I’m terrified to look in the toilet, I take charge.
“Stay there a second,” I say and head into the bedroom. I know exactly what drawers she keeps what I need. I grab panties and sweatpants and take a deep breath as I place them on the bed. I exhale slowly and despite my stomach churning, I return to the bathroom.
Grabbing a washcloth from the linen closet, I soak it with water, wring it out and then turn to her. “Let’s get you up and into some clothes, okay?”
She nods and straightens. She doesn’t appear to be in any physical pain, but I take hold of her arm to help her up. I keep her walking out of the bathroom, guiding her firmly so she doesn’t dare turn around to see what might be left behind.
In the bedroom, she stands quietly while I wipe between her legs, the cloth coming away with a little blood. I help her slip into new panties, then the sweatpants, and guide her to the edge of the bed to sit for a moment. She doesn’t say a word… doesn’t even look at me.
Steeling myself, I kiss her on the top of her head and walk back into the bathroom. I look everywhere but the toilet, even bending over to pick up Kiera’s stained clothes.
But my eyes go where they must, and I see enough to know it’s not good. I flush the toilet and return to the bedroom.
Kiera’s face lifts and she looks at me with bleak eyes. “Did I…?”
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. I’d never lie or sugarcoat it. I don’t know exactly what I saw, but there was a lot of blood. I just know she won’t have to look at it. “We’re going to need to get you to the doctor.”
She nods, her expression dulling by the second. Her tone is flat. “You have a game you need to get to. I can call Brienne.”
I ignore the idiocy of that statement because she’s in shock. I merely move back to the dressers and pull out socks. I hand them to her. “Put these on and some warm boots.”
As she does that, I grab a sweatshirt for her.
When she takes it from my hand, I pull out my phone and call Drake.
“What’s up?” he answers, and I can hear the chatter of the locker room. I knew he’d already be at the arena.
“Kiera’s had some pretty significant bleeding and cramping. She seems okay now, but I’m going to take her to the doctor’s office. I wanted to let you know.”
“Did she miscarry?” he asks, and I wince. I can’t even say the word.
“I don’t know.” Not a lie. “But I need you to get with Coach immediately and tell him I’m a scratch for the game.”
“I’ll do the same and meet you—”
“No,” I say, eyes on Kiera as she puts her sweatshirt on like a robot and steps inside the closet to get her boots. I lower my voice and walk out of the room. “I’m not sure there’s anything to worry about and if you show up, she’ll think there is. Let her keep a little hope, okay?”
“You said her,” Drake murmurs sadly. “That means you don’t have any hope.”
Sighing, I scrub my hand through my hair and watch as Kiera comes out of the room. “We’re heading out the door now. I’ll let you and Brienne know as soon as I can.”
“Please take care of her.” I’ve never heard a man beg for anything before, but that’s as close as it gets.
“I promise.”
♦
Kiera’s continued silence is making my skin crawl. I try to talk to her, but her responses are in one- or two-word phrases that sound so brittle, I’m surprised her tongue isn’t shredded. We’re waiting on Dr. Segal to come into the exam room. It’s not the same one we were in a mere four days ago. The table sits on a different wall but otherwise, it looks identical. I only notice because it’s hard to look at Kiera as she sits on the edge of the exam table, staring at her clasped hands.