Crushed Page 9

  “We don’t have to rush off right away…” Jackson lowers the backpack to the floor and strolls over to me. “We can rest for a little while, if you want.”

  I shake my head, pushing myself to my feet. “I just want this to be over and done with.”

  He takes my hands in his and wraps them around his waist. I bury my face into his shirt and close my eyes. His sweet, musky cologne tickles my nostrils and soothes an uneasy feeling in my chest.

  “We can always try again,” he mutters, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “When you’re ready.”

  Try again? After all of this? What if it happens again? What if I can’t ever have a baby?

  “Aren’t you scared of going through this again?” I ask, breathing through my nose to quell the fresh sobs that wobble up and down my throat.

  “I’m scared,” he utters, “but I’d let us go through it a million times if it means, one day, it might happen for us.”

  I lift my head, craning my neck to look him in his lovely, green eyes. “Do you think it will happen for us?”

  I never thought in a million years that I would be having this conversation. I didn’t know, until now, how badly I wanted to have a baby. Once the tests came back positive, it wasn’t hard to fall in love with the idea…

  …and now it’s hard to swallow that fact it’s not happening.

  “Sure.” His lips twitch. “When the time is right.”

  I glance down and rest my head against his chest again. I don’t know how long we stand here in silence, but I know it’s not nearly as long as I want.

  Before I know it, we’re in the car and driving toward the hospital. I try not to turn my nose up at the smell of disinfectant and faint hints of second hand cigarette smoke as the sliding doors pull open. I haven’t been to the emergency room for myself since I was young. I don’t remember it being this intimidating.

  Jackson holds my hand tightly as he tugs me up to the triage desk. The lady behind the desk briskly shuffles through a thick stack of paper, her eyes flicking to us with disdain as Jackson places the envelope on the counter. Behind us, there are no seats to sit.

  The woman leaves the wad of paper alone and tightens her short, plum ponytail. “Can I help you?” she asks, dropping into her seat.

  “This is a referral from our regular practitioner,” Jackson replies, handing over the envelope. “He instructed us to come straight here.”

  The woman opens the envelope and reads the letter inside. I stand quietly next to Jackson, desperately trying to fight off the next round of tears. I know I’m being hard on myself, but I just can’t stop thinking that when I walk out of these doors next, I will be less of the woman that I was when I came in.

  She asks us to take a seat, much to Jackson’s dismay, and we stand by the far-left wall. A few minutes later, they call my name and I straighten my spine as Jackson plants a hand low on my back. I ignore the glares of the other people in the room. Undoubtedly, they’ve been waiting to be seen a hell of a lot longer than I have. They see that my eyes are puffy, my posture defeated, but still they hate me for being called upon sooner. Believe me, I’d trade places with any one of them, if I could.

  We walk down a small corridor and enter a room full of beds separated only by thin, blue and white curtains, the name of the hospital embroidered along the bottom. On the freshly made bed lies a lavender gown that looks absolutely intimidating.

  “Change into that, please, and relax. A doctor will swing by to see you shortly.”

  Jackson sets the backpack on the floor and lowers himself into a seat next to the bed.

  “Do you want me to hold the curtains shut while you change?”

  I shake my head. “It’s okay.”

  I whip off my white blouse and reach for the gown. Without a word, I move over to Jackson and turn around, allowing him to tie the strings. He does them tightly, so the fabric doesn’t open at the back. When I’m done, I unbutton my pants and pull them out from underneath. He takes my normal clothes and puts them inside the bag while I sit on the edge of the bed.

  Right on cue, a woman with a clipboard slips between the curtains and into my space.

  “Selena Graham?”

  I nod.

  “My name is Doctor Hart, and I’ll be overseeing your treatment while you’re here.” She lifts the first page and scans the next. “We’ll be transferring you to the woman’s health unit once a bed becomes available, but for now we’ll do all our tests from here, if that’s okay.”

  I nod again.

  “Selena, when was your last period?”

  I blush and it’s violent through my cheeks. I’ve been asked this question a few times since finding out that I was preg—well, not pregnant…I’ve been asked a few times since this ordeal started, but never in front of Jackson.

  “Uh, I’m not sure.”

  “And was this your first pregnancy?”

  I swallow a bitter gulp. “Yes.”

  “And how far along are you?”

  “Nine weeks, give or take.”

  She scribbles over the paper, taking notes as she goes. I was kind of hoping they’d skip over their interrogation and just get it out of me and let me go home. I don’t want to talk about it. Not ever.

  “Have you ever heard of a molar pregnancy before?”

  I shake my head.

  “Did your doctor explain what it is?”

  “Briefly,” Jackson chimes in. “More so about how they are formed. If you could elaborate, that’d be great.”

  Doctor Hart lowers her clipboard and tucks her pen into the pocket of her white coat. “Okay, a molar pregnancy is a benign tumor that develops in the uterus. There are two kinds of moles. Partial and complete. It says in the letter of referral from your doctor that he believes yours is complete. This means there is no normal embryo or normal placental tissue in your uterus.”

  “And a partial?” Jackson asks, shifting forward in his seat. “How’s that different?”

  “If it was a partial mole, there’d be an abnormal embryo and possibly some normal placental tissue, but even if there was an embryo in the uterus, developing alongside the mole, it’d be malformed and couldn’t survive.” She scratches her head, careful not mess her perfectly coifed bangs. “A molar pregnancy requires early treatment, so we’re going to rush you through as quickly as we can. Before we can do the surgery, we would like to run a few more tests, if that’s okay?”

  “What kind of tests?” I ask, scratching at the inside of my forearm.

  Nerves eat at me, even more than they already have. I’m not a fan of hospitals or tests.

  “We’ll need to x-ray your chest to make sure it hasn’t spread outside of your uterus. Although it’s a non-cancerous tumor, it can spread to other parts of the body just the same.”

  “And if it’s in other parts of the body?” Jackson chimes in before I can.

  “Then we’d need to treat her with chemotherapy.”

  “But you said it’s not cancer?”

  “It’s not.” She turns her kind, brown eyes on me. “Once the surgery is done, you’ll have to get regular blood tests. That’s once a week for six months, and then once a month for six months. This allows us to monitor your HCG level and make sure it’s dropping. If it doesn’t drop steadily over the twelve-month period, then we’ll treat it with chemotherapy and that has an extremely high success rate for this kind of mole.”

  From her clipboard, she hands me a couple pamphlets on molar pregnancies and in enters a nurse.

  “Do you mind if we take a sample of your blood for our own records?”

  What am I going to do? Refuse it? “Sure.”

  The energetic little nurse zips around the room, collecting kidney dishes and vials from drawers. The doctor leaves as the nurse dons a pair of gloves and grabs a strap for my arm. When she’s done taking my blood, she tells me to get into bed and rest. With a kind, sympathetic smile in her eyes, she also lets me know that she’s scheduled me for an x-ray and that I’ll
be moving into a new room shortly. I thank her even though I don’t want to do any of it.

  I lie down, letting the firm hospital bed hold me. There’s no TV or books. There’s nothing to distract me from my own mind and I hate it. I roll onto my side and face Jackson, who’s already watching me, his concern plainly painted on his beautiful face. I hate this wounded puppy look of his. He pulls it off so damn well.

  “You don’t have to stay,” I tell him, my voice cracking. “I’m going to be here a while.”

  His concern melts away as he forces himself to smile at me, his firm, full lips curving in that way I like so much. “I don’t care. I’ll be here until they force me out.”

  Moving the bag out of the way, Jackson drags his chair closer and reaches out to touch the side of my face. “You look kinda cute in that hospital gown.”

  I chuckle and swipe at a rogue tear I didn’t feel fall until it rolled down my cheek. “You think so?”

  “I do.”

  “I should get some for home then.”

  Jackson laughs, and the sound is so sweet and soothing. I bet it could cure any affliction if only they knew how to bottle it. I’m glad he’s here with me. As much as I want to push him away because I feel like I’ve failed him, I can’t. He’s going through this too and we need to be here for each other. No matter what.

  “I think we’ll be okay,” I utter, reaching out to touch his bicep. “We can get through anything, right?”

  He leans in close, so close his forehead touches mine.

  “There isn’t a single doubt in my mind.”

  Maybe what’s happening is a good thing. Maybe this is what we need to finally bring us closer as a couple. After this, we can start fresh. No secrets. We can try again together and prepare well in advance, so these sorts of things don’t happen. Jackson reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny black box. My heart skips a beat. “Jacks—”

  “I don’t want to do it here,” he tells me, “but I can’t wait any longer. Marry me, Selena? Let me make you happy, please?”

  He opens the box, and inside is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. It’s simple. A gold band with a single green stone in the center. “Oh, my…”

  “I know it’s not huge, but once I win this fight, I can replace it.”

  I take the velvet box from his hand and inspect it closer. “I don’t want another one. I don’t want a bigger, shinier, more expensive ring. I want this one.”

  Forever.

  Jackson plucks the ring from between the white, velvet sponge and takes my hand in his. I’m crying again.

  Out of fear.

  Out of grief and unease.

  Out of love.

  I let him slide the ring onto my finger and it fits so beautifully. I know I told him last night that I didn’t want a bad memory to taint the moment he proposes to me, but this could not have come at a better time. Somehow, it’s revived me. It’s like I’m no longer staring at the brick wall that blocks me from the rest of my life. This ring has chipped away at the stone and the cement and I can see that perhaps this hiccup isn’t the end of the road for us.

  “Take a nap with me?” I ask, shuffling backwards on the bed.

  He glances around our space. “I don’t think I’m allowed on the bed…”

  I pat the mattress beside me and he can’t resist. With a heavy exhale, Jackson climbs onto the bed with me and wraps me up in his strong arms, pulling me close to his body. I close my eyes and imagine us in a different place. It’s not that hard.

  Due to my mental and physical exhaustion, it doesn’t take me long to drift off into a peaceful slumber, my body surrounded by the only man I’ve ever loved…

  …and the only man I will ever love.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jackson

  It doesn’t take a nurse long to come and disturb Selena’s sleep. She doesn’t say anything when she pulls the curtain back and sees me on the bed with her, cuddling. I expect her to throw the hospital rule book at me, but she offers me a sad smile instead. Unfortunately, we can’t stay like this forever. Sighing, I drag myself off of the bed as quietly as I can and straighten up. I turn to the nurse. Samantha, her name badge says, and she regards me with fear, almost…like I make her uncomfortable. Wouldn’t be the first time, I suppose. No one looks at my tattoos and assumes I’m friendly.

  “Do you mind waking her?” Samantha whispers, pushing a wheelchair up beside the bed. “We need to do that X-ray now. Afterwards, we’ll take her to the Women’s Health wing and she can sleep some more.”

  “Sure.”

  I lean over and plant a soft kiss on Selena’s face. Groaning, she curves her back and stretches her arms. “Hm?”

  “Time for your X-ray,” I mutter, pushing the blankets down to her hips.

  Her eyelids flutter open and she regards me curiously with her glowing eyes. “Now?”

  I nod. “Yep. Nurse is here.”

  Selena straightens her arms and pushes herself into a sitting position. I chuckle under my breath as Selena swipes at her hair and rubs her face with her hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “That’s okay,” Samantha says, gripping the handles of the wheelchair in her small hands. “It’s a good way to pass the time.”

  Selena slips off the bed. She’s much taller than the tiny nurse. “Do I have to sit in the wheelchair?”

  “Hospital policy, I’m afraid.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” Selena sits in the wheelchair, placing her bare feet on the foot holders.

  The nurse turns her ocean blue eyes on me. “You won’t be able to come with us, I’m sorry, but if you follow the signs in the hall, you should find yourself in the reception area of the Women’s Health wing, where you can wait for Selena to return.”

  The urge to contest her bubbles in my chest and I slide my teeth together. Why can’t I go? I doubt anyone would be able to stop me.

  “Jackson, I’ll be okay.”

  I look at Selena and I want to protest, but I can’t. Not when she has her head tilted like that and her eyes so calm and pleading. Exhaling, I bend down and grab the bag I packed for her. “I’ll see you when you’re finished with the X-ray.”

  She nods, and Samantha pulls back the curtains and rolls Selena away. I leave the space and re-enter the main reception. Above me, navy signs hang from the ceiling with the sole purpose of guiding people in all sorts of directions. They make absolutely no sense to me, and not one sign mentions anything about a Women’s Health wing, so I just walk. I stroll down one wide hall, and then another and another until, finally, ‘Women’s Health’ is labeled at the top with an arrow to the left. Instead of following it, I duck out of the doors in front of me for a moment of fresh air.

  Outside, people in robes smoke cigarettes and drink coffee. Funny. I walk as far to the right as I can, to avoid the stench of nicotine. I used to smoke, but I can’t stand it anymore.

  I lean against a concrete column and pull my phone from my pocket. I’ve got twelve missed calls from Olivia, four from Seth, and a single missed call from Amelia. I clear the log, removing all the information from my screen. In my hand, my phone buzzes again, Olivia’s name big and bold on the screen. I can’t ignore her, can I? She’s Selena’s best friend after all.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, Jackson. Thank God!” She takes a moment to breath. “Are you and Selena at the hospital?”

  “Yeah. They’re x-raying her now and then she’s going to go in for surgery.”

  “I am so, so sorry—”

  “It’s fine,” I cut in, not wanting to talk this out right now. Not with Olivia, anyway.

  “What time are visiting hours, do you know?”

  “I’m not sure and…” I lick my lips. “I don’t think Selena wants visitors at the moment.”

  The line goes silent and I cringe. “Oh, okay.”

  “She just needs a little space. That’s all.”

  “Of course. Of course. Can you please let her know I calle
d? And that she can call me any time?”

  I grimace at the heavy note of disappointment in her tone. Upsetting Olivia has always been equivalent to disappointing a puppy. She gets this confused glint in her eyes that makes you feel like a terrible human being. Seth can’t stand it because once she pulls it out, it’s end game for him.

  “Sure thing.”

  “Bye, Jackson.”

  The second she hangs up my phone vibrates in my palm and the name that flashes across my screen is one I feel less inclined to answer. Amelia. What does she want? I let it ring out and then clear the missed call from my screen. The next time—and hopefully, the last time—I see her will be at the fight in a few days’ time.

  I slip my phone into my pocket and look out into the parking lot. I should be training. I should be keeping my body nice and loose for this upcoming fight, but here I am, standing around a hospital waiting for tissue to be sucked out of my fiancée’s womb instead. I don’t mean that insensitively. There’s no place I’d rather be than by Selena’s side as support, but I need to win this fight…now more than ever. When I do, I’m going to take Selena away somewhere and we’re going to have fun and create new memories—memories that make all the bad ones feel like they were meant to be in order for us to find ourselves. A fresh start in the Caribbean somewhere or in a city bigger and better than the one we live in, I don’t care where.

  Maybe I can convince her to have the wedding ceremony in another country, just the two of us.

  That would be nice.

  Selena

  I get through the X-ray fairly quickly, to my surprise, and the tumor hasn’t breached my uterus yet, thank God. The whole time I was in the room I kept thinking about Jackson and how I wish he was holding my hand through the whole thing. I took solace in the fact that he wasn’t too far away and that soon I was going to see him again. I wonder if Seth told Olivia yet. I left my phone at home on purpose so I don’t have to listen to any pity calls. It’s not that I don’t—or won’t—appreciate it. I just want to do this with Jackson and not feel like I should keep myself in semi-high spirits in fear of making someone else uncomfortable.