Page 98 of Dissonance

I’m speechless, stunned into silence. It’s the same instinct, I know that, the same pull to make sure I’m protected, but the shape of it is different this time. He’s not asking me to step back into his shadow. He’s offering to stand beside it.

“Okay,” I say eventually. “That I can work with.”

Another wave hits, stronger this time, and I don’t quite manage to hide it. A low groan slips from my lips, fingers digging into the arm of my chair. I exhale slowly, focusing on the floor until it releases. When I look back, his eyes are already on my stomach.

“What was that? Are you—”

I shake my head too quickly. “Nothing.”

“Thea—”

“I’m fine,” I breathe as it fades. “It’s probably just Braxton Hicks. I read about them. They’re apparently very normal.”

“How long has this been happening?”

I glance at my watch. “Earlier this morning. On and off.”

“And you didn’t think to get it checked out?”

“It wasn’t this persistent then,” I admit.

The next one hits before I’m ready. This wasn’t in the literature. The intensity and frequency aren’t supposed to increase, but this has me stopping in my tracks. No arm to grip, no focal point, just a stillness that takes over my whole body as something radiates low and wide in a way that feels completely different to the others. Wrong. Just wrong.

“That’s it,” Dad says, already beside me, hands looping under my arms, calm and certain in a way he never usually is with me. “We’re taking you to the hospital.”

“It’s probably nothing—”

“Just to be safe.” His hand closes around mine, guiding me toward the door. “I’ve got you, honey.”

Honey. Hot tears prick the backs of my eyes because I didn’t think I needed anyone to have me. And right now, I’m not so sure.

We move out of my office, and Mae’s on her feet the second she sees me, face pale, reading the situation before I’ve said a word. If she tries to talk to me, I don’t hear it. I barely hear a thing. The pain is fading, replaced with a cold and clawing sensation, my hands trembling in my father’s hold.

Lockie. He should be here. He’d know what to do. He’d handle it; he always does. But he’s not, and that thought splits me open in a way I don’t have the strength to contain.

“I need—” My voice shakes, my fingers fisting the lapels of my dad’s jacket. “I need to call Lockie.”

“I’m on it,” Mae calls out, rushing back into the office and returning with my bag, phone already out and against her ear.

The elevator doors open, and Dad ushers me through, his hand solid at my back. In the distance, I can hear Mae’s voice, her words rushed before—

“—Mae, what—” His voice cuts through everything like a frequency only my body knows how to find. “—hospital, okay. I’ll meet you there.”

A small, fractured sound escapes me as I fold slightly forward, some of the panic loosening its grip. I take my phone from Mae with shaking hands, nodding even though he can’t see me. “Okay. Okay.”

“I’m here, baby,” he says, and I can hear what he’s keeping out of his voice, the effort of it. “Keep talking to me. Everything’s going to be alright.”

A tear rolls down my cheek, and I don’t bother stopping it. For the first time since this started, I stop trying to stay in control. I just don’t want to be alone.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Thea

I don’t remember the drive. I know Dad was talking, sounding deceptively calm when I knew he wasn’t. Lockie’s voice came through the phone distorted, everything blurring somewhere between the second and third waves of whatever’s happening to my baby.

I stopped tracking any of it. My hand hasn’t left my stomach the entire ride, all my attention fixed on feeling her move. Just once. Just once would be enough, and then I’d know she’s okay. But this damn tightening keeps pulling my focus back before I can find her.

Dad’s hand comes to the middle of my back as we reach the reception desk. The nurse asks questions, and I manage thirty-one weeks before my brain stops cooperating, the answers coming from somewhere behind me—my father’s voice filling in the rest.