A Gorgeous Villain (St. Mary's Rebels 2)

From Conrad, Pest. Even Ledger.

And then for the second time in twenty-four hours, a panic like no other grips me. It chokes the life out of me, keeling me over.

But I don’t have the time for that. I don’t have the time to panic or to breathe even because she needs me. My Fae and Halo. And I have to get to them.

I break all speed limits and lights as I race toward the hospital. It’s in the town of St. Mary’s, miles away from Bardstown and my father. Something that would’ve made me happy. To have Fae and the baby away from the clutches of my father.

Not so much now.

Now I’m panicking. I’m angry and frustrated and helpless.

So goddamn helpless.

By the time I reach the hospital, I’m shaking. My body is cold. My bones can’t be contained within it.

I’m not sure where I’m going or who even helps me get there but thank fucking God, I end up at the right place. Because I see the tall form of Conrad, standing, his eyes immediately falling on me as I enter the space.

“Where is she?” I ask, pushing through the panic. “Where the fuck is she?”

Conrad stares at me with grave eyes. “She fell down the stairs at school. It was an accident. We brought her in—”

I don’t think.

I get up in his face and grab his collar. “What do you mean she fell down the stairs at school? Where the fuck were you? Why weren’t you keeping an eye on her?”

“Reed —”

“She’s pregnant, for God’s sake,” I shout. “She can be slow and clumsy and does no one…” Suddenly, the winter in my body becomes even chillier. “Halo. What… Is she…”

“Callie’s in surgery right now. The fall induced labor and…” He swallows and I see the same terror reflected in his blue eyes. “And we won’t know for a few hours if Halo… We won’t know until they come out of surgery.”

We won’t know.

We won’t know if Halo is fine. If my Fae…

My fingers come loose from Conrad’s collar.

My hands fall limp as I take a silent step back.

As the initial adrenaline of panic and terror is overtaken by the heaviness of them. The weight of fear.

The gravity that we’re here. In this stark white waiting room with doctors and nurses and patients bustling around, something that I’d blocked up until now.

But it’s rushing back, along with the vivid realization that my Fae fell down the stairs at school and now she’s in surgery with Halo.

And they both might not… be okay.

“We’ve been trying to reach you all morning,” Conrad says. “Where were you? Why couldn’t you drop her off this morning?”

I texted him early this morning that I wouldn’t be able to drop her off at school today because I had something to take care of. Something that I know he doesn’t care about and I never wanted him to.

Because it was my responsibility, my father.

So I tell him, my chest burning, every bone in my body hurting. “It’s over. With my father.”

Even though his gaze is dipped in the same gravity and fear as mine, I can see a tiny bit of approval in his eyes as well. “Good.”

And then, I can’t help but say, “I love her.”

“I know. I could see. It’s good that you can see it now too.”

“I’ve been an asshole.”

“Yes. But I was wrong about you. I don’t like to be wrong but I’m glad I was.” Then the look in his eyes get shuttered. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there. To save her when she…”

Fell.

***

Halo Jackson comes into the world at exactly 3:27 PM on a Monday.

She shouldn’t have though.

She’s approximately six weeks early. All the books say that a normal pregnancy lasts up to forty weeks. Any babies born between thirty-seven and forty-two weeks are considered full term. Any born before are premature.

Halo is premature at thirty-one weeks.

She weighs 4.6 pounds and she has a ninety-five chance of survival with no ill effects.

But we need to keep her in the NICU. In an incubator because premature babies don’t know how to regulate their body temperature. They might have excessive weight loss. Their vital signs may be unstable.

Not that these things might happen to Halo because she comes under the mild category of premature, as the doctor who performed the surgery told me. Which went smoothly. They were afraid that the fall might have caused some internal bleeding of sorts but it didn’t.

My Fae and Halo were lucky.

But they’re not taking any chances. Hence the incubator.

I know all this because they told me.

But I know some other things too.

I know that she has dark hair like me. And blue eyes like her.

And I know that she’s small. She’s so very, very, dangerously small. I don’t know how I’ll keep her safe. I don’t know how anyone can keep a baby safe when they’re so small and fragile.