There were footsteps. Then Becca screamed as well. She yelled out to Malcolm. Her hand gripped mine, and I rested my head against her chest, closing my eyes.
We sat in the hall while I heard Malcolm call an ambulance. I mumbled something about ruining their carpet. Becca just held me until the paramedics arrived, shushing me. Rocking me back and forth. Whispering words of comfort. But they did little to quell the feelings inside that something was horribly wrong. This was way more than the spotting the obstetrician said I may have.
As I was loaded onto a stretcher, I recalled seeing Becca in that same position almost a year ago after our collaring ceremony. We'd thought she'd had a heart attack. It had just been anxiety. I tried to convince myself that my situation wasn't as bad as it seemed.
Becca climbed up to sit beside me in the ambulance. Malcolm was standing with one of the EMTs. I overheard him talking with someone, presumably Drake.
"You need to get back here. Now. I think Daphne had a miscarriage."
His words made me cry harder. I wasn't overreacting. This wasn't a panic attack.
When he ended his call, Malcolm reached into the ambulance and gently squeezed my foot. "You're going to be okay, Daphne. Drake is on his way. Just hang in there."
The sounds of the sirens as we took off helped drown out the little voice in my head. I knew it must be wrong. But I couldn't help thinking I may have just lost the one thing that was preventing Drake from leaving me forever.
