Page 25 of Bruise Me Tenderly

Night falls before I know it, and Polly makes me eat dinner before she sends me off with a container full of cupcakes.

I feel better on the drive back to McKenzie’s place, and I’m sure she liked the break from me moping around all day.

When I step into her house, I put the container of cupcakes on the entryway table and call her name.

There’s no response, which is weird since her car’s still in the driveway.

“McKenzie?” I call again, checking the kitchen and dining room before starting upstairs. “Where are you?”

I hear a noise from the nursery and turn in that direction, my heart starting to pound. She sounds like she’s in pain.

“Kenz?” I push open the door to find her on her knees on the carpet, her face white.

“Something’s wrong, Judson. I need to get to the hospital.”

Fourteen

River

For the first time since Judson came back to Portland, I’m not excited about my day off. The ugly words we had during our fight are still ringing in my ears even four days later. I wish I hadn’t said anything.

As soon as that thought enters my head, I get angrier. I needed to say something. Not only did it upset me, but what he’s doing isn’t healthy. I have no right to tell him what to do, but I can set a limit about what I’ll enable.

My phone buzzes with a text on my nightstand, but I ignore it for now. I have a different tone set for the hospital so I’ll never miss something from them, and that wasn’t the sound.

I want to see if it’s Judson, but I also just want a little bit of distance right now. But I also feel bad because I don’t think Judson even realizes what he’s doing.

With a sigh, I throw my blankets off and pad into the bathroom to take a shower. With the whole day ahead of me, I’ll grab some breakfast and drive down to see my parents. I haven’t been around in a while because I’ve been really busy. We talk on the phone all the time, but it’s not the same as getting a hug from them in person.

So after my shower, I throw some old jeans and a T-shirt on, pour myself a travel mug of coffee, then swipe my phone from the nightstand.

I take a breath and open my messages, determined to scroll past anything new and just get in touch with Mom. But all the texts are from one person, and it’s not Judson.

They’re all from Paul.

Your friend McKenzie is here. Went into labor early.

There are complications, but I don’t know what they are yet. I’ll keep you updated, but you might want to get here.

It’s umbilical cord prolapse.

The last message stops my heartbeat. I may not work in the L&D ward, but even I know how dangerous that is. To both McKenzie and her baby.

My hands shake as I try to call Paul, but it goes straight to voicemail.

I swear and shove my feet into my shoes before running out the door. I barely pause to lock it after me.

The drive to the hospital seems to take forever, and I hit every single red light on the way. How could this happen? She was perfectly fine at her last check-up. Did they miss something? Is it just random bad luck?

I pull into the parking garage and kill the engine to my car before climbing out of it. I jog inside the building and take the elevator up to the fourth floor.

As soon as the doors open with a ding, I see Judson in one of the waiting room chairs with his head in his hands.

“Judson.”

He looks up, his eyes swollen and rimmed with red. Without a word, he stands, and I close the gap between us. I hug him as tight as I can, and he returns my embrace without hesitation.

“How is she?” I ask.