If he'd used all my features to describe her, I would've had a harder time believing him. But the mention of a cowlick and dark hair—so unlike me—made me envision the child he described until she became a living, breathing creature again. She was alive, and she'd stay that way.
This time, instead of blocking the pain, I embraced it. Still clutching Pick's shirt with one hand, I gripped my belly with the other. "I'm not going to lose her," I promised him.
"No, you're not," he said. "You're going to fight for this little girl, and she's going to make it. You both are."
Chapter 13
PICK
As a frantic E.R. staff wheeled Eva away on a stretcher, I collapsed onto the nearest bench I saw and pressed my back to the wall, closing my eyes. Unable to hold her any longer, my hands began to shake, so I gripped the edge of the bench for dear life.
Reese paced by me as she chattered on her phone, talking a million miles a minute to a dozen different people. Noel, who'd driven us to the hospital, was lingering nearby, and Mason, who'd stayed back at the apartment to take care of the guy I'd damn-near killed for touching my Tinker Bell, was still absent.
All the while, I couldn't stop feeling the wetness of Eva's blood soak through my shirt.
What the fuck had I been thinking?
I'd stood outside that garage, listened in on her conversation with her ex, and I'd done nothing. Nothing!
It didn't matter that Noel had kept telling me not to intervene; it was none of my business. I'd felt the violence oozing off him. I'd known he was a hair trigger away from unleashing it on her.
Why the hell hadn't I just walked into the garage, made my presence known, and diffused some of the anger? She could've still gotten her big, closure conversation with him while I was standing right there, openly listening to everything.
But shit, I'd let Gamble talk me into thinking it was best to let her have this moment on her own. And that bastard had gotten in way too many punches before I'd been able to reach him.
Pinning him to the wall by the throat, jacking him in the face with a wrench, and kicking him in the balls hadn't been nearly enough before Gamble had managed to pull me off him. I still regretted inviting that bastard to come with me tonight. He might be all torn up over losing his woman, but his helping to convince me to stay back might've just lost me mine.
I gulped and tried not to freak out.
No, we weren't going to lose Eva tonight. She was going to be okay. The baby was going to be okay. Everyone was going to be okay, except maybe her baby daddy. I kind of hoped he died.
But there'd been so much blood coming from her. I choked out a sound and surged to my feet to pace.
"Hey, man." Gamble grabbed my shoulder as I passed him, but I shrugged him off and sent him a death glare.
He obligingly lifted his hands away from me, but kept talking. "You okay? Let me see your hands."
"They're fine." I'd barely gotten two punches into Alec Worthington. Everything on my body was perfectly fine. He should be worried about Eva.
Fuming, I stepped closer to him, needing to unload some of my anger and fear. "Why the fuck did you keep pulling me back? Why—?" When I realized accusing him would solve nothing and only make me regret my words later, I whirled away and stalked off.
Feeling lost, I roamed the halls, staring blindly at framed pictures of stupid pink flowers on the walls. I didn't stop walking until I found myself in the opening of the hospital chapel.
It was eerily quiet inside, the lights were dimmed, and a creepy-looking Madonna statue tipped her head to the side and clasped her hands to her bosom as she sent me a sympathetic stare. I'd never stepped foot inside a church before, but I did now, needing something. Anything.
I sat down in the last pew in the back and stared at the statue, who kept staring back.
I knew I shouldn't feel so shredded about this. I'd known Eva for what, two weeks? She wasn't the girl I'd been dreaming about for ten years. She was a perfect stranger, and if she or her child didn't make it through the night, it wouldn't be the end of my life. But convincing myself of that was impossible.
I didn't want her to die. I didn't want that little baby who'd kicked my hand through her belly to die. I wanted to look into her eyes again and let her fix me up with another Mohawk. I just wanted more time with her.
Glancing up at the worried Madonna, I sent her a respectful nod. "Thanks," I said, and slipped out of the chapel. It wasn't until I was walking by the closed gift shop and saw the stuffed pig Skylar had been holding in my glimpse that I really calmed down. It was like a sign, telling me she was going to be okay. She still had a pig waiting for her love.
My cell phone rang as I headed back toward the waiting room.
With a sigh, I answered, "Tristy, I can't talk right now."
"He won't stop crying," sh