"I know I screwed up last night, and I screwed up the night of the wedding... and times before that. But baby, I swear, I'll do better. Please don't do this. I love you so much."

I know he loves me. But sometimes...

"Love just isn't enough, Drew. You go to her every time she calls, and most of the time it's at my expense. I can't do it anymore—especially not with a baby on the way. Especially now, when Becca is going to need you more than ever... with her being pregnant and all."

Drew freezes.

"...How did you know Becca was pregnant?"

"Is the baby yours?"

"Claire, I love you so much, and I want this family—with you and our baby. But I need to be there for Becca. She's all alone..."

____________

Claire

I couldn't drive away fast enough. I was about to break—I could feel it coming. For years, I put up with him and his family. For years, they treated me like absolute none. Then throw in Becca, and I just couldn't do it anymore.

My phone has been ringing nonstop since I ran out of that party. Andrew has called at least thirty times in the last ten minutes, and I guess it's finally time I hear him out.

"Baby, you have to slow down. You're going way too fast, and I'm scared you're going to get into an accident. I know you think you know what you saw, but trust me—it wasn't what you're thinking. For the love of God, please slow down."

I should have known he'd be following me. That's how it always goes: he hurts me, I try to communicate, he apologizes, he does it again, I leave... then he chases. It's been an ongoing cycle, and I just can't do it anymore.

"Andrew, please go away. I can't do this with you right now. I just need space."

I know he can hear me starting to wheeze. My asthma's been a bimbo lately with all this stress, and I can feel a full-blown attack coming on.

"Claire, baby, please slow down and use your inhaler. You've got to calm down, baby, please. I put your inhaler in your purse this morning before I left for the wedding."

By now, I'm wheezing and coughing, so I reach for my purse—which makes me swerve the car.

"Baby, pull over now! You're going to get hurt or hurt someone else, and I need you to get to your inhaler!"

My purse had dropped during my fast exit from the reception, and I picked up what I could... clearly, my inhaler didn't make the cut in that moment.

"Oh," I whisper, realizing it's not here. Well, I guess wheezing to death is the less painful option when your other one is having your heart crushed into a thousand tiny pieces over and over again.

"What, Claire? Is your inhaler not in there?"

I don't answer. Between trying to breathe and trying to get farther away from him, I've got my hands full.

"Claire, answer me! Pull over! I have an extra inhaler in my car for you!"

Death by a thousand cuts it is.

I begin to slow down—until I hear her.

"Andrew," I huff, struggling to suck in air, "is Becca in the car with you?"

"Hey Claire," Becca says, in that little innocent voice she loves to use whenever "Drewy"—as she calls him—is around. "I jumped in the car when I saw him going after you. I wanted to be able to explain. Drewy was just comforting me—I wasn't feeling well, so we walked to that back room, and I felt a little dizzy..."

"Stop, Becca. Just stop. You can have him. I'm done," I say.

I floor it. If I can just get to a hospital, I'll be fine and on my way.

"Claire, baby, please—I love you, baby, plea—"

That's all I heard before I felt the impact, and the car began to flip.

I guess I wasn't the only one running away from something today.

But I'm probably the only one who won't make it out alive.

---

Andrew

I watched it all happen in slow motion. She was going too fast, and the truck ran the stop sign. Becca began screaming almost immediately, grabbing onto me for comfort—but I already had my door open and was running. I had to get to her. I can't lose her like this. Not like this.

When I reach her car, it's upside down, and she's hanging by her seatbelt. There's blood and broken glass everywhere. Her phone is still lit up—our call still connected.

I start pulling on her door. I have to get her out, but it won't budge.

The driver from the truck stumbles over, yelling, "I'm so sorry—I looked down for a minute and didn't see the stop sign was so close. Is she okay? Let me help get her out!"

I see red. I don't answer him. Right now, all I need is for the love of my life to be alive and in my arms.

I run around to the passenger side. The door opens, and I crawl in. There is glass everywhere, and I'm sure I'm getting cut up—but all I can see is my Claire.

I reach for her face. I can't breathe.

"Claire? Wake up for me. It's Drew, baby, please open those beautiful hazel eyes for me, baby."

She doesn't move. I can't breathe. I reach for her seatbelt to free her—and realize it's jammed.

Claire always said, "If I ever get into a bad accident, use this cool seatbelt cutter thing I ordered off TikTok." I search around, and sure enough, taped to her dashboard is that belt cutter. I had made fun of her for ordering random things from that app, but I've never been happier that her over-preparedness paid off.

I cut the seatbelt just as the fire department and ambulance arrive. The firefighters begin getting her out from her side, and I crawl out the passenger side.

I run to where they're pulling her out as the EMTs step in. She's breathing—shallow, but she's alive. Tears begin running down my face as I reach for her bloody hand.

"Do you know her?" one of the EMTs asks.

"Yes, I do. She's my fiancée," I reply.

Claire and I have been together for four years, and tonight I had planned to ask her to marry me. I had it all set up—and now I might have to plan her funeral.

I should've stayed with her. She asked me not to leave her side tonight, and I promised her I wouldn't. It was my sister's wedding. I wasn't in the wedding party, so there was no reason for me not to be attached to her hip—or at least close by.

But once again, Becca called... and I went running. And now, that might cost me the love of my life. Even if she survives this, I'm terrified I'll lose her anyway.

"Sir, we're taking her to Mont. Are you coming in here, or will you be following in your car?"

He looks over to my car. Becca's still sitting there, crying.

I forgot she was even there.

"I'll follow behind you. Sir, she's the love of my life. Please... keep her alive. I need her."

He nods and climbs into the ambulance. As I watch his partner shut the doors and run to the driver's seat, I let the tears fall. I hear the sirens begin to wail and I watch them drive away—with my heart.

I run back to my car and begin to follow—when Becca speaks.

"Drewy... I think I'm pregnant."

And just like that.

---

Claire

Beep... beep... beep...

Everything hurts. I must still be alive—because if this is what the afterlife feels like. I want out. Let's see what the after-afterlife has to offer, because this is not it.

My left arm is in a cast, and my right hand is warm—it feels like someone's been holding it. As my mind begins to focus, I hear him.

"Becca, you have got to stop calling me. We'll have to talk about this later—now is not a good time. We still have a few months before you begin to show... No, I didn't say I want you to keep it a secret. A baby is a hard thing to keep a secret, Becca."

I gasp, and Drew's head whips my way.

"Becca, Claire's awake—I have to go," he says, hanging up and crossing the room in seconds.

"Claire, don't you ever do that again." His voice breaks. "I've never been that scared in my life—not until I saw that truck hit you. I thought I lost you, baby. I can't... I can't lose you. You're my life. I love you so much, C."

The room door opens, and the doctor steps in.

"Ms. Lambert, you're a sight for sore eyes! We're so glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

Honestly, I know he's asking about how I feel physically, but right now I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of water mixed with shards of glass...

"I'm in pain," I rasp dryly. "My throat hurts, it feels like my legs don't work, and I just feel... achy. I also need to pee."

The doctor looks at me with sympathy in his eyes.

"I know this is a lot, and we'll give you something for the pain. But there does seem to be some nerve damage to your legs from the accident..."

I close my eyes. When it rains, it pours.

"Now—I'm not saying you're paralyzed, Ms. Lambert. I am saying you may struggle to walk for a while and feel intermittent pain until the nerves heal."

"And how long will that take?" I ask as tears begin to trickle down my face.

"We aren't sure. There's more, though. I'm assuming, since Mr. St. Claire is your fiancé, we're free to speak in front of him?"

"Drew, can you leave the room for a minute?"

Drew takes a deep, stabilizing breath and says, "No."

His face is stone, fists clenched, his body tense and ready for a fight.

"Mr. St. Claire, if Ms. Lambert doesn't want you here, I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to leave. I'll call security if I have to, though I'd rather not," the doctor says.

I'm impressed. Usually, people give Andrew whatever he wants. The St. Claires practically own the town. And Andrew—corporate as he looks—is a black belt in mixed martial arts. He spends a couple of hours a week in the gym, not to mention the organized fights they sign him up for. He's the reigning state champion. This doctor either has a death wish or is new to town.

Drew takes a step toward him, and I decide it's time to step in.

"It's fine, Doc. He can stay. I'm sure he'd find out anyway—we might as well save someone else the pain of his interrogations," I say with a broken smile.

The doctor gives Drew a stern look, and Drew glares right back, arms crossed and feet planted.

"If you're sure, Ms. Lambert."

"I am," I sigh.

The doctor relaxes a little. "Well, it's probably good he's here anyway, since this will affect you both. You're pregnant. About twelve weeks. The baby doesn't appear to have been harmed in the accident."

I begin to wheeze. Breathing becomes harder. They're both speaking to me, but I can't hear anything except—You're pregnant.

I slowly begin to come back into my body when I feel Drew shove my inhaler into my mouth, begging me to inhale. When I turn my head, he looks panicked—absolutely distraught. I can't tell if it's because he doesn't want this baby with me, or because the idea of two women being pregnant with his children at the same time is not the way he saw his life going.

"Breathe, Claire. Please, baby. Take a breath—for me. For our baby. Please," he says.

Our baby. Does that mean he's okay with this?

I should probably focus on using my inhaler instead of debating that right now.

"Breathe, Claire!"

That snaps me out of it.

I nod at him, and he presses the inhaler. I take a deep breath and hold it. We do it again. And again.

Drew has my face sandwiched between his hands, his forehead pressed to mine. His green eyes are staring into my soul as he says:

"I love you, Claire Lambert. But if you keep trying to die on me, I swear to all that is good and holy—I will I will revive you no matter what to do. Do you understand me, woman?"

I smile.

The doctor clears his throat, and Drew quickly peckes my lips, then steps back but keeps hold of my right hand. It's as if he thinks if he stops touching me, I'll disappear. The doctor begins explaining my injuries: multiple fractures—my left arm, two ribs—bruising everywhere, and the nerve damage in my legs. He lets us know he plans to discharge me tomorrow, but only if I have a safe place to stay, someone to help me, and that I get as much rest as possible.

I'm a first-grade teacher, and since summer just started, I can get as much rest as he needs me to... outside of my very strenuous hobbies: reading my glorious smut, listening to Aiden Snow (via Audible, of course—I don't know him like that personally, though in my head, I do. He's just unaware of my existence), and my gardening. I can spend hours in my garden; it feeds my soul.

As I'm having this personal monologue in my head, Drew's phone starts ringing. Both the doctor and I pause and turn to him. He's reading a text, and I see the call is coming from Becca—because of course it is.

Drew sends the call to voicemail, apologizes to the doctor, and looks at me pleadingly. When the doctor resumes talking, Drew's phone starts ringing again. He sighs and excuses himself, asking the doctor to wait a minute so he doesn't miss anything. Has he lost his ever-loving mind? He thinks we're going to pause my medical discussion so he can talk to his... his baby mama? Wait—doesn't that make me his baby mama too?! Ugh, what a mess.

I look at Drew and then speak to the doctor.

"No, Doctor. Please continue. This is important too."

Drew has the nerve to crease his eyebrows like he's the one upset and hurt. He leaves, and the doctor continues to go over my discharge plan.

It's been about an hour. The doctor left, a couple of nurses have been in and out, but Drew hasn't come back. I call my best friend Joy and fill her in on everything that's happened.

"What, Claire?! How am I just now finding out about this?" Joy yells into the phone. "I'm coming to the hospital right now. That fucktard you call a boyfriend better not show his face or I'm going to beat him to a pulp. Aiden is with me—he's coming too."

I smile and ask her to bring me some food and a change of clothes. I'm tired of these hospital clothes, and my lady bits could use a fresh environment.

Twenty minutes later, Joy and Aiden come bustling through the door. Joy sees me and tears immediately fill her eyes. I must look like complete prick. Next thing I know, I'm in her arms, and Aiden is running his hands through my hair, giving me a gentle head rub.

After everything that's happened in the last 24 hours, these two are exactly what I need. I feel safe. Incomplete, but safe. Drew didn't come back that night, but lucky for me, the pain meds made me drowsy, and soon my world faded to black.

The doctor comes in bright and early and tells me I'm good to go. He asks where Drew is—apparently, the plan was for Drew to take care of me? That must've been a conversation they had together, because I sure it wasn't part of it.

Joy speaks up.

"She'll be coming to stay with me. I'm able to care for her, and when I can't be there, Aiden will be."

I look at them, and tears start rolling down my face. I appreciate them so much. They're here, and in this moment, nothing is more important to them than me and my health.

They completely freak out when I tell them I'm pregnant. I've never seen two people more excited to become an uncle and an aunt. They're the closest thing to family I have, and this baby... my baby... will be the most loved little kid out there.

Aiden is pushing my wheelchair out just as Drew comes bounding through the hospital doors. When he spots us, he jogs over. Joy and Aiden keep walking like they don't see or hear him.

"Claire!" Drew calls out.

We keep going.

We're out front at the pickup spot when Aiden goes to get the car, giving Drew the chance to squat in front of my wheelchair and reach for my hand. I quickly pull it back. He looks down, sucking in a deep breath.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. Becca was having car trouble and no one was picking up her calls. It was getting dark, and I didn't want her stranded alone. But when I got there, it took forever for a tow truck to come, and then she begged me to grab something to eat with her—she hadn't had a meal all day—and by the time I looked at the clock, it was so late I didn't want to interrupt your rest."

He spits that out so fast Joy doesn't even get a chance to stop his word vomit.

"Joy and Aiden stayed with me last night. I was fine," I reply. "Thank you for stopping by this morning, but as you can see, I'm discharged and heading out."

He stands.

"I'm glad it worked out. I'm here now—I'll take you home, get you comfortable, fed..."

He grabs the handles of the wheelchair, but Joy doesn't move. She took over the spot after Aiden left to get the car, fully expecting Drew to try and take me. Aiden's car pulls up, and Joy starts to push me toward it—but Drew stops her.

"What are you guys doing? C is coming home with me. I'm here now. You can come with us or go home, but I'm taking her home."

Aiden gets out of the car, opens the passenger door, and starts transferring me. It's not easy—broken arm, busted ribs, nerve damage—but he's gentle. Drew tries to reach for me, but Aiden blocks him with his body.

Drew doesn't want to hurt me, so he holds onto the passenger door, starting to panic.

"Baby, what is going on? Aiden, come on, man—I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you don't let me get to my woman."

We don't respond. Joy speaks instead.

"I'm sure Becca could use you for something this morning, Drew. We've got Claire covered. She's staying with me, and when I can't be there, Aiden will. The doctor gave us all the care instructions and follow-up appointments. We've got it handled. Aiden will come by your place later this week to pack up her things and move her in with me—if that's what she wants."

Drew clenches his jaw, voice tight and furious.

"No way. You're not taking her away from me. She's mine. I've loved her for four years. I'll love her the rest of my life. YOU. WILL. NOT. TAKE. HER. FROM. ME."

This isn't going to end well. Drew's about to lose it. If I don't step in, someone's going to get hurt—or arrested. Or both.

"Drew," I say calmly. "I'm in a lot of pain. The longer you do this, the longer I'm hurting. Is that what you want?"

His whole body deflates.

"Baby, no. Of course not. I want you at home with me—where I can hold you, take care of you and our baby."

I want to say, What about your other baby? I'm sure they could use some taking care of, too. But I don't.

"C, please don't do this. I know I screwed up last night, and I screwed up the night of the wedding... and times before that. But baby, I swear, I'll do better. I want this family—I want it more than the air in my lungs. Please don't do this. I love you so much, C."

I know he loves me. But sometimes...

"Love just isn't enough, Drew. You go to her every time she calls, and most of the time it's at my expense. I can't do it anymore—especially not with a baby on the way. Especially now, when Becca is going to need you more than ever... with her being pregnant and all."

Drew freezes.

"...How did you know Becca was pregnant?"

I give him a sweet, saccharine smile.

"I heard you talking to her. In my hospital room, Drew. Is the baby yours?"