The Lover's Surrender (No Exceptions) (7 page)

“I’m afraid
I don’t understand.”

A bitter
smile crept to my face, and my heart began to hammer at the memories of that
one fateful night—the night Gina died. Taking a deep breath, I struggled
to find the right words.

“The night
when you picked me up from the club and drove me home, I was high as a kite,” I
began. “I had hallucinations, and I wasn’t even really drunk.”

“I still
don’t understand,” Jett said.

“I only had
like half a glass. When I told Sylvie about that night, she insisted that I
take a test. We found out that my drink had been spiked.”

For a few
moments, the words hung heavy in the air. When the silence began to feel
oppressive, I looked up to Jett to scan his face.

He looked
at me like he had seen a ghost. And then his expression changed into something
fierce, destructive even. His fingers curled around my shoulders, as though he
was about to shake me to see if I was real.

“What do
you mean spiked? Who bought the drink?”

“Gina, the
girl who died,” I whispered, the nausea inside me growing.

“So you’re
saying you were high.” He sounded incredulous, and I nodded.

“Fuck.” He
shook his head in disbelief. He looked so worried my heart plummeted.

“At least I
didn’t drink all of it,” I mumbled. He pressed his lips into a thin line, and I
continued, “It’s possible that the test results were wrong.” It was a
halfhearted attempt at easing the tension.

“I’m taking
you to the hospital.”

Before I
could stop him, Jett stood and heaved me up.

“Jett.” I
stood my ground. “What about Gina’s things and the cops?”

“What’s
about them?”

I stared at
him. “You’re being framed, Jett. If the cops were at your place, chances are
they searched it, too. They could be looking for you right now.”

“That’s not
my priority right now, Brooke,” he mumbled. “First, I need to see that you’re
safe and well. And then we’ll figure out the rest.”

He tugged
at my hand, but I made no attempt to follow his silent command to move.

“What?” he
asked.

“At least
take another car,” I pleaded. “If they’re looking for your car, they’ll find
you.”

He stared
at me for a few seconds, processing my words.

“Okay. I
can do that.” He pulled at my hand impatiently. “Come on, Brooke. We have to
pay Dr. Barn a visit.”

Jett didn’t
bother asking Kenny for his car. He grabbed the spare keys on our way out and
dangled them from his fingers, shooting me a sideways glance that was supposed
to say, “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t
okay, obviously, but I had long learned not to argue with him when it came to
what was acceptable behavior with his friends.

As far as
Jett’s friends went, they couldn’t be more different from mine. The fact that
we were leaving a gang’s headquarters was a good indication of that.

As soon as
we entered the yellow car, Jett motioned me to buckle up and phoned his
physician friend Sam to request his immediate presence. Luckily for us, Dr.
Barn was available and agreed to meeting with us in half an hour.

The drive
to the hospital was shorter than expected. Maybe because Jett hit the
accelerator more often than not, overtaking cars and not stopping at a single
stop sign. Several times, my fingers itched to grab hold of the armrest, and I
bit my tongue to keep from yelling at him to slow down, but my mouth remained
shut.

For one,
reasoning with Jett was not only impossible, it was fruitless. And second, his
distant, rigid expression showed Jett wasn’t in the mood for talking. I could
see that he was worried, and in turn, his anxiety rubbed off on me. Shivering,
I wrapped my jacket around my body, then folded my hands in my lap, fingers
intercrossed so tightly that the white of my knuckles showed beneath the skin.
Turning my head to the side window, I closed my eyes to suppress the increasing
nausea in the pit of my stomach.

It had been
my decision to go clubbing, and as such I carried the responsibility. Whatever
happened to my baby would be no one’s fault but mine. If only I hadn’t gone.

My anxiety
reached a new peak the moment Jett pulled the car into the hospital parking
area and the tires screeched to a halt. We entered through the main entrance
and rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, where Dr. Barn’s office was
situated.

“I’m
scared,” I whispered to Jett as we crossed the long corridor and came to a halt
in front of a white door.

For the
past few minutes, I had tried to stop the shaking. My stomach was already a
hard lump of icy stones, the shaking intensifying the freezing sensation inside
me.

“What if
something’s wrong? I could never forgive myself if the baby—” A tear rolled
down my cheek. I couldn’t speak the words, the thought too horrible to utter
out loud.

Jett turned
around to face me, his gaze as dark as I felt inside.

“Don’t even
think like that.” He grabbed my shoulders softly and rubbed my arms in a
soothing motion. “You’ll be okay. You’ll both be. We have to believe that.”

“But what
if it isn’t the truth? I don’t want to lose the baby.”

He captured
my face between his hands, and our eyes met once again. “You won’t, because
everything will be okay. I know it. If anything had happened, you would already
have noticed it.”

I nodded
and buried my face against his hard chest. But the relentless questions in my
mind kept racing through my head.

What if my
baby died? Where would that leave us?

My stomach
twisted into painful knots.

For the
first time in my life, apart from that one moment before I was rescued from my
kidnappers, I was truly afraid. It wasn’t just about the baby; I was scared
that I couldn’t take any more worries.

For a few
minutes, Jett and I stood there, my body pressed against his, his arms wrapped
around me in a tight embrace, while I fought hard to forget reality.

It was only
when someone cleared his throat that I stepped back and lifted my head,
realizing that, at some point, Sam must have approached and I didn’t hear him
coming.

The first
time Sam Barn and I met, it was after I was rescued by Jett and his gang. Back
then, Jett explained that Sam was the only physician he trusted. I could only
assume that Sam had played some part in Jett’s former life.

“Hi guys,”
Sam said with a warm, infectious smile. He hadn’t changed much in the weeks I
hadn’t seen him. His blond curls still made him look like an Australian surfer.
His black glasses gave him a nerdy look.

“Hey,” I
murmured.

“She
knows,” Jett explained as a means of hello.

“You told
her about her condition?” Sam’s gaze jumped from Jett to me, and then back to
him.

Jett
nodded. “About an hour ago.”

Actually, I
knew nothing about my condition except that I had a rare form of preeclampsia
that had kicked in too early and was potentially fatal. The first time I read
about preeclampsia at all was in a book about pregnancy a few weeks ago, and I
thought it was some sort of sexually transmitted diseases.

Come on.

Pre-eclampsia?

It kind of
sounded like chlamydia. Whoever stumbled upon it, they couldn’t have come up
with an uglier word, even if they wanted to.

“It’s about
time.” Sam opened the door and motioned us into his office. “Please follow me.”

“How many
people know about my condition?” I whispered to Jett as we followed Sam through
his office to a back door, which was his private examination room.

“Everyone
but Sylvie,” Jett said.

I frowned.
“Why not Sylvie?”

“You think
she can keep a secret from you?” Jett’s sarcasm was evident.

I rolled my
eyes, then gave a forced shrug. “You’d be surprised.”

The truth
was Sylvie couldn’t keep a secret for the life of her.

Especially
not from me.

And
particularly not one about me.

***

The
examination took over an hour. Jett sat next to me, holding my hand, throughout
the entire session. As soon as we were finished, Sam retrieved a chart to go
over the results.

“Brooke.”
As he addressed me, his eyes became two dark pools of worry. “First and
foremost, your baby’s healthy. Underdeveloped but healthy. That’s the good
news.”

I gave a
loud sigh of relief, until I caught Jett’s nervous gaze and the serious
expression on his face.

“What do
you mean ‘underdeveloped’?” Jett asked. He looked anything but pleased. Didn’t
he hear that the baby was healthy?

“The blood
flow through the placenta is diminished, meaning the growth is slower than it
should be,” Sam explained, unfazed.

Jett
frowned—a sure sign that Sam’s answer wasn’t satisfactory to him.

“It means
that the baby might weigh less at delivery,” Sam elaborated further. “However,
I can assure you it won’t be a problem later on. It’ll still grow to be a very
tall adult.”

Sam’s lips
twitched, and I found myself smiling. Jett barely blinked.

“What about
Brooke?” he asked. “You said that was the good news, so I gather you have some
bad news for us too.”

Sam let out
a short, nervous laugh, seemingly used to Jett’s inability to lighten the
tension. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll get to that in a minute.” He turned to me.
“How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I
guess.” I shrugged, slightly caught off guard. “Worried but okay.”

“Have you
had any changes in vision?”

“Changes in
vision?”

“Like
blurred vision or sensitivity to light. Often accompanied by severe headaches,”
Sam explained, his hand gesturing slightly as he talked.

“Yeah, I’ve
had those recently. But I’ve read that migraines often come with pregnancies,
so a little nausea and exhaustion is to be expected.”

Sam didn’t
return my “don’t worry” smile. Instead, he asked, “Do you feel any pain?”

“Sometimes.”
I pointed to the area below my ribs. “It comes and goes. Nothing major.”

He nodded,
as if that confirmed his thoughts. “It’s part of your condition. The results
have shown that your protein levels are excessively high. Your blood pressure
is also too high. I’m afraid you won’t have a normal delivery.”

“What’s
that supposed to mean?” Jett asked. His face looked angrier than I thought was
humanly possible. Something sparkled in his beautiful green eyes—a dark
hint of danger.

“It means
that if it gets worse—and I won’t lie, it’s very much to be expected—a
premature delivery will be the only safe option.” Sam’s eyes stayed locked on
me, avoiding Jett’s gaze. “Because your condition is severe and your form of
preeclampsia is very rare, I’m afraid we’ll have to induce the birth much
earlier than planned. Otherwise, it’ll progress to eclampsia, resulting in
seizures and a coma. We want to avoid that, so I recommend more regular
prenatal care check-ups until we can determine the best timing for the
delivery.”

He paused,
hesitating, as though he wanted to say more, but decided against it. “I’m
sorry, Brooke. I know this is not what you wanted to hear, but there’s nothing
we can do. You’re lucky that there was no damage to the fetus.”

“I
understand,” I whispered, clutching Jett’s hand tighter. “When will I have to
deliver?”

“If it
progresses like this, I’d say no later than in four months.” He smiled
sympathetically. “But other than that, the baby’s fine, Brooke. As are you.
Don’t worry too much. I’m going to prescribe you some medication, and recommend
that you reduce any form of stress as much as possible. If your condition gets
worse, bed rest will be necessary, but it shouldn’t come to that. As long as
you attend your regular check-ups and don’t take part in extreme sports
activities, such as car racing”—he pointed to Jett who still didn’t crack
a smile—“everything will be all right.”

My lips
twitched. “I think I can do that.”

Sam looked
at the chart again, and the easy-going smile from before spread across his
lips. “Now that this has been cleared up, let’s proceed to the next bit of good
news. I’d like to use the opportunity to say that we’ve just received new,
top-notch equipment, and I’ve taken the liberty to screen your blood. Based on
the results of the medical procedure, which I cannot stress enough is top-notch
and the best in the world, I’m happy to announce that we’ve found no
chromosomal conditions.”

Jett opened
his mouth, but Sam held up a hand to stop him.

“And we’ve
also found out the gender of your baby.” He let the words sink in as he
continued to smile at us, clearly enjoying every moment. “Now the question is:
do the happy parents want to know now or would they prefer to discover at
birth?”

There was a
short, stunned silence. “I…” Lost for words, I turned my head to Jett and found
him staring at me, as speechless as I was.

Seconds
passed with none of us talking. Sam stood.

“If you
don’t mind, I have to check on one of my other patients. But I’ll be back in
five. That should give you enough time to come to a decision.”

The door
closed silently, leaving us alone.

“So, what
do you think?” Jett asked.

“I think
I’m ready.” I tried to hide my smile, with little success. “Do you want to
know?” I couldn’t help the hint of anxiety creeping into my voice.

“More than
anything. It would be great to confirm what I’ve known all along.”

I frowned.
“Confirm? Is there something you’re not telling me, Jett?”

“I know
it’s going to be a girl,” he said. “I can feel it. I felt it the moment you
told me you were pregnant.”

I shot him
a lazy grin. “Strange to hear it from someone who’s not pregnant.”

“Are you
ready for a bet?”

I gritted
my teeth. “A bet on our child’s gender? Are you serious?”

Seeing my
mortified expression, his smile disappeared. “If you’re no longer into our
games, we can surprise ourselves at birth.”

He sounded
hurt—a little reminder of our fight and all the horrible things I had
said.

I grabbed
his hand and squeezed it. “Jett, I wasn’t criticizing our relationship. I’m
sorry I called our little games stupid. That’s not the way I truly feel about
them.”