“Oh dear,” she murmurs, hurrying over. “Are you okay, Haisley?”
I shake my head, fresh tears falling down my cold cheeks.
“This young lady told me that she’s pregnant,” the dog walker says in a hushed whisper. “What should we do?”
“We better call for help,” she turns to her husband, who has stepped outside in his slippers. “Honey, get an ambulance on the line! Tell them that a pregnant woman in her early thirties has fallen and needs a medical check.”
I barely register what happens around me, my only thought is to call Rasmus. I need to hear his deep, calming voice. I need to hear him tell me our baby will be fine.
My hand shakes as I fumble for my phone in my pocket. The corner of the screen is cracked, but I don’t care. I tap his name with trembling fingers.
The call connects on the second ring. “Haisley?” His familiar voice is my lifeline.
A broken sob escapes me. “I fell.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line and his voice drops lower, rough with urgency. “Where? What happened?”
“My steps,” I choke out, sucking in a sharp breath. “Ras, I—I’m hurt. I don’t know what to?—”
“Fuck this,” he mutters, and in the background, there’s an unmistakable sound of something crashing. “Listen, Haisley. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Okay?”
“I—I don’t know if our baby is okay. I’m so sorry, I?—”
“Is someone helping you?” he asks, his voice now softer. “I need you to take deep breaths.”
I nod. “Someone’s called the ambulance.”
“Good. Now take a deep breath in and out.” I fill my lungs, exhaling slowly. “And again.”
His steady instructions soothe me, if only a little, before he mutters. “Fuck. I better find your dad. I can’t be here if you’re hurting.”
My stomach clenches with a new type of fear. “He doesn’t know.”
He swears under his breath. “I gotta go, sweetness. Just hold on. I’m coming. It’ll be okay.”
The line goes dead. I clutch the phone to my chest, my pulse beating frantically. The pain in my ankle is unbearable, but I cling to the only thing keeping me steady.
Rasmus is on his way.
27
I’M GLAD SHE PICKED YOU
RASMUS
Jogging down the hotel hallway, my pulse pounds in time with my steps.Room 13005, where the fuck is it?I double back, scanning the plaques until I spot the sign directing me to rooms 13001-13005.
Once I reach the door, I rap my knuckles against the wood, my knocks urgent. It swings open, revealing Coach MacBride, his brows lifting in surprise.
“Rasmus?” He eyes me up and down. “What’s going on?”
“Is Mr. Lavigne here?”
“He’s in the other room.”
I brush past him before he can question me further, stepping into the makeshift team management office for the night. Haisley’s dad, my GM, sits at the desk, scrolling through his tablet, oblivious to the storm heading his way.
“Mr. Lavigne, I need to speak with you,” I say, my voice tight and controlled.
