Chapter 5
Esme woke up to a sharp, stabbing pain.
Blinking her eyes open, she realized she was in a hospital room. When she turned her head just a little, she saw Liam sitting right beside her bed, exhaustion painted under his
eyes,
“Esme, you’re awake.” He leaned in, sounding like he could finally breathe again. “Are you okay? Anywhere hurting?”
She tried to answer, but her throat was so dry nothing came out.
The last thing she remembered was Liam hurrying away with Joy in his arms, his back to her, and the sound of pounding hooves rushing right at her.
“Joy’s hurt,” Liam said suddenly, his voice tight and urgent. “She has a bleeding disorder–the doctors can’t stop the bleeding. The hospital’s low on blood…”
Esme felt her heart sink.
“You’re the only one with a matching blood type.” Liam took her hand, holding on like he couldn’t let go. “Esme, please, can you give her some blood?”
She almost laughed. It was unbelievable.
She yanked her hand away, the movement sending a bolt of pain through her ribs and stealing her breath.
He let her get trampled by a horse and didn’t even bother explaining. Now the first thing he wanted from her was to risk her battered body to save Joy?
“I’m not doing it.” Her voice was rough and raw, every word scraping her throat.
Liam’s expression tightened. “Esme, for the baby’s sake, can you just bear with it? Once the baby’s born, this will all be over.”
A chill ran through her.
She searched his eyes for a trace of guilt, maybe even a little regret, but all she saw in those familiar eyes she’d loved for twenty years was anxiety and pressure.
“Mr. Mitchell, Ms. Harris isn’t doing well…” A nurse poked her head in, voice low.
Liam sprang up and almost forced Esme to sit up. “Esme, please, I’m begging you.”
She was half–dragged to the blood draw room.
The needle went into her vein, and the pain nearly took her breath away.
“Does it hurt?” the nurse asked, surprised. “I was being really gentle.”
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Esme shook her head, but her tears wouldn’t stop.
She’d always hated needles. Every time she had to do this before, Liam would cover her eyes and whisper, “It’s okay, Esme. It’ll be over in a second.”
Now, he stood outside, checking his watch again and again, not even glancing her way.
By the time they’d taken 400cc, Esme’s vision was swimming.
The nurse helped her sit and rest, but she watched Liam rush off to Joy’s room without even looking back.
Esme stumbled after him, stopping at the half–open door.
Inside, Joy lay pale on the bed, her wrist wrapped in thick bandages.
Liam was right there, holding her hand, his eyes so gentle it almost hurt to see.
“Don’t be scared, it’s all okay now,” he murmured. “The baby’s fine too.”
Esme’s gaze dropped to Joy’s wrist.
There was a familiar string of prayer beads.
Three years ago, Esme had brought those beads back for Liam. He’d slipped them on, promising, “I’ll never take these off as long as I live.’
Now, they were on another girl’s wrist.
He’d given the beads she’d prayed so hard for to Joy.
Esme’s chest tightened until it hurt to breathe. She couldn’t take it anymore and turned away, fleeing down the hallway.
Back in her room, she curled up on the bed, letting her tears soak the pillow.
So this was what it felt like–when your heart breaks so deeply it’s hard to even breathe.
The next morning, a nurse came by to check on her.
“Mrs. Mitchell, could you fill out this medical form for us?” The nurse handed her a clipboard.
Esme filled it out on autopilot, but when she got to the marital status section, she paused. Then she pressed her pen down and wrote, “Single.”
“Mrs. Mitchell, did you make a mistake?” the nurse asked, surprised. “You marked ‘single‘–isn’t Mr. Mitchell your husband?”
“He’s not.” Esme’s voice was steady. “He won’t be my husband much longer.”
“Esme, what did you just say?”
The door burst open. Liam stood there, staring at her like he couldn’t believe what he’d
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just heard.
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