Page 82 of Forsaken Trail (Runaway 4)

I needed work. So I stormed out of the office to find Marty alone in the shop, a look of worry etched on his face.

“Are you—”

“I’m fine.” I marched to one of the pots that we’d ordered a few weeks ago. I’d left it empty because it would need the right plant. Well, that snake plant was it.

There was no use taking it to Brody’s home. There was no use making myself comfortable there when I couldn’t possibly stay. Not now. I’d let myself get swept away with the idea of what if.

This baby didn’t need a mother with her head stuck in romance novels. It was time for a reality check.

I wouldn’t stay with a man who refused to listen to me. I wouldn’t live with a man who didn’t respect why I needed to control my own destiny.

After all I’d confided in him, all the pain I’d dredged up so he could understand. He still hadn’t told me the truth.

That hurt the worst. In all the nights he’d held me in his arms, he hadn’t found the courage to admit he’d lied.

The tears threatened to return but I blinked them away. Then I crouched, ready to haul the pot to the back room, when a sharp zing raced through my abdomen.

“Ow!” I cried, letting go of the pot as I clung to my belly.

“What?” Marty was at my side in a flash.

“I don’t know.” I gripped his arm, using him for balance. “It hurts. Just . . . give me a second.”

“What are you doing lifting that?”

“It’s not heavy.” It wasn’t heavy. Maybe ten pounds. I’d put it in this very spot just three days ago. “It’s not heavy.”

“Breathe.” He clutched my arm, just as another pang raced through my side. The pain was so sharp, it was like someone had hold of my stomach and was ripping it in two.

“Ah!” I gasped, dragging in some air. Please, let the baby be okay. Please. Please. Please.

“Aria, what do I do?”

I met his worried gaze. “Take me to the hospital.”

Chapter Fifteen

Brody

“Aria Saint-James.” I braced my hands on the counter as the nurse behind it looked over the rim of her clear-framed glasses.

“She’s my sister,” Clara blurted from beside me. “We’re family.”

The nurse opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Marty rushed to my side.

“Brody.” His face

was pale. A sheen of sweat clung to his bald head. “She’s down here.”

Clara and I followed him, the three of us jogging down the hospital hallway, dodging carts pushed against the walls and a wheelchair outside of an open door.

When Marty reached Aria’s room, he stood aside and let us rush in first.

Aria was in the narrow bed, her hair draped over her shoulders. Her hands rubbed circles on her belly, and when she spotted Clara, the worry lines on her forehead relaxed. She spared me a brief glance.

She was pissed. She had a right to be. But I didn’t care.

I rushed to her side and took her hand.