Page 111 of Fight for Me
“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He tracked down a nurse who retrieved a glass of water for him. He helped Anne sit up to take a drink. She winced as the muscles in her stomach contracted.
A nurse came in to take her vitals and give her a gown to wear. Blane briefly explained that Anne had been mugged, taken blows to her abdomen, that she was pregnant, and bleeding.
“Is that what happened?” she asked Anne, giving Blane a bit of a side eye.
“Yes, it is.” Anne’s confirmation seemed to reassure the nurse that Blane wasn’t to blame for her injuries.
“What’s your pain level, dear? Zero to ten with ten being the worst pain you ever felt.”
Anne considered. “Probably about a six.”
“How much are you bleeding? Is it a steady flow? How long have you been bleeding?”
“I don’t know,” Anne answered. “Kind of like a period, I guess.”
Blane took Anne’s hand in his, his other hand tightening into a fist. He wanted to touch her, reassure himself that she was okay. He was beyond thankful that Kade had been able to track Anne so quickly. He’d left the guy alive. Barely. But Kade would take care of that.
“The doctor will be in shortly. Just try to get comfortable.” The nurse smiled, pulling the curtain to hide them as she left the room.
“I’m so sorry,” Blane began, guilt gnawing at his insides. Anne had endured this because of him. Because of Linda’s bizarre obsession. Even now he wracked his brain, trying to remember if there had been any indicators that he’d missed.
“Don’t.” Anne met his gaze, her eyes serious. “It’s not your fault. She was nuts.”
Blane didn’t disagree. “You’re not leaving my side from now on.”
Anne didn’t argue, just clutched his hand tighter. She looked up at him. “I knew you’d come for me.”
“I shouldn’t have let you get taken in the first place.” His voice was stiff.
“Let’s not dwell on it.”
“He could’ve killed you.” Blane’s blood ran cold at the thought.
“But he didn’t. You rescued me.” She managed a wan smile. “My hero.”
Blane snorted.
The doctor stepped inside their little room and they had to repeat the story and where Anne was hurting and about the bleeding.
“I brought in a fetal heart monitor,” he said, brandishing the device. “So we’ll hear the little one.” He pressed in against Anne’s stomach and gradually moved it around.
Blane didn’t breathe. Anne’s nails dug into his hand.
Suddenly a rapid beat filled the room, coming from the monitor. The doctor smiled.
“There’s the little guy. Or gal.”
Anne burst into tears. Blane pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her.
The doctor turned away and busied himself with Anne’s chart while she composed herself.
“Bleeding doesn’t always mean the pregnancy is in jeopardy. Spotting can be normal for some women, so don’t let it upset you. Stress is bad for you and the baby.” He smiled gently. “Now let’s take care of you,” he said. He inspected the bruises on Anne’s face and pressed on her abdomen. After a few minutes, his diagnosis was simple.
“Contusions on your face and more on your abdomen. You’re going to be sore for a while. Take over-the-counter pain medication and bed rest for at least a solid week. Let’s give you and the baby a break.” He looked at Blane. “Be sure she stays off her feet.”
“Will do.”
They signed paperwork to be able to leave, got the discharge papers, and got back into the SUV. This time Anne sat in the front with Blane.