“How bad is that hurting?” he asked her.
“Doesn’t feel great,” she gasped, taking a deep breath.
He felt her stomach while it was happening. My heart pounded in my chest. She sighed when it was over, then drew in another deep breath.
“How often are these happening?”
She chewed on her bottom lip.
“She has about two to three of them an hour,” I answered for her, not wanting to play her game. If something was wrong, we needed to get it under control.
Her gaze snapped to mine, both surprise and irritation on display. The doc just said, “Hmm,” again.
“They aren’t super painful every time,” she argued.
“I’m still going to order more rest,” he told her, glancing over his tablet at her. I almost fist-pumped. “Not full bed rest, but you should be lying down an extra four to five hours a day. You need to be drinking more water—like over a gallon a day.” He looked at his charts. I watched her cracking her knuckles again. She hated this, not having control of this one thing in her life. But she was going to have to deal. “You didn’t lose any weight this last week, which is a good thing. How’s your appetite been?”
“I’ve been eating a bit more. When the mood strikes.” She shrugged.
“Okay. If your appetite is there and the Zofran is helping, I want you eating as much as you can, but healthy choices as often as possible.” He gave her another sharp look. “If those babies decide to come early, we want them as healthy as possible, yeah?”
She nodded, eyes brimming with tears. My blood boiled through me. Maybe it had been a bad idea to reenlist. Now she would be home alone with the risk of going into preterm labor and there would be no one around to make sure she took it easy and shit. I had to arrange something. There had to be someone who could stay with her while I was gone.
“Are you still working?” he asked her, raising his graying eyebrows.
“Only one night a week. One of our slower nights.”
His lips became a thin line, and he tapped on the tablet some more. “I’m going to ask that you take a leave for now. I know it’s a bit early, but you shouldn’t be on your feet that long. Serving is hard on people as it is, and you’re pregnant with twins. Okay?”
Now the tears rolled down her cheeks. I reached over to take her hand, but she leaned away from me. That stung pretty bad, making my guts knot up.
He gave her a few more instructions to take it easy and stay in tune with her body. If she kept up with it, everything would be okay. He was trying to encourage her, but the grim face she wore showed it wasn’t working.
When we were back in my truck, heading back to her apartment, she stared out the window with her arms wrapped around her stomach. She hadn’t said a word since we left the doctor’s, and I didn’t really know what to say. She’d already gone through so much I was sure most women didn’t in their entire pregnancy, and there was nothing I could do to help. To top it off, I would be leaving in a little over a week. She would have to take care of herself, which she was used to doing, but what if it got to the point of her not being able to?
“Will you talk to me, please?” I prompted her when we were parked in front of her apartment.
“There’s nothing to say,” she muttered.
I reached over, grasping her leg because she wouldn’t let me hold her hand still. “I know it’s rough. And I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time of it. There isn’t really anything I can do to change that. But I can help… if you’ll let me.”
“I don’t want any more help.” Her voice was thick with tears, her words ripping through my chest. “I just want my life to go back to how it was. I have absolutely no control over any of this, and it’s just… it’s too hard.”
“Then that’s why you do need help, Kate. It’s okay to need help every once in a while. We’ve been over this.” She finally looked at me, tears rolling down her cheeks again. My heart was in a mushed-up pile on the floor. “Needing help, needing to lean on someone right now, does not make you weak. It makes you smart. I know how fucking smart you are. It’s just going to keep being different than you’re used to. Because even when those babies are here, there’s going to be even more you can’t control. But if you let me in, if you lean on me, we can keep getting through this shit together.”
It felt as if we were having this conversation every few days, and it was getting pretty fucking old having to convince her over and over. I cared a shit ton about her and those babies, but I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to keep it together when I was gone. When I could no longer tell her to her face that she needed to just give in.
She brushed the tears away and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, making a smile tug at my lips. She was the sexiest woman I’d ever met, even with snot on the back of her hand. “I’m sorry.” She sniffled. “I’m sorry I keep doing this. It’s just… it’s really fucking hard. And he just told me I can’t work, which I’ve never not done. I don’t know how to get through this without freaking the fuck out.”
“That’s why we’ll figure it out together.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Together.”
A knot loosened in my chest, making it a bit easier to breathe. We could get through this. We could make it work.
When she got out of the
