Chapter 79

Nathan

I was asleep, deep within the grip of dreams, when the shrill ring of the phone jerked me awake.

My heart hammered in my chest as I fumbled for the device, half-blinded by sleep and a sudden burst of adrenaline.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice gravelly from sleep. “Who is this?”

“Nathan, it’s Angela.”

Angela's voice echoed from the other end, a note of urgency lacing her words that somehow sent chills down my spine without any knowledge of why she was calling me.

“Angela?” I murmured. I sat up in bed and ran a hand through my hair. “Why are you calling me?

She was silent for a moment, but when she finally spoke, her words were urgent. “It's Olivia. She's in the hospital. There's… there's a lot of pain, and blood.”

The words shot through me like an electric shock, cold and terrifying. My heart dropped into my stomach like a frozen ball of fear.

I didn’t even bother to answer Angela before the phone was out of my hand, my body lurching into overdrive.

I was up and out of bed in seconds, my mind reeling, my heart sinking.

“Olivia!” I shouted, sprinting down the hall as the irrational part of my brain tried to convince me that it was a sick prank, and that she would be there in her bed, sleeping peacefully — but she wasn’t.

I peered out the window, practically ripping the curtains off of the hook in the process. The delicate lace of the curtain crumpled in my hand as I realized that the driveway was missing a car — her car.

My mind spun in a tornado of terror as I hastily pulled on my clothes and raced out to my car. Olivia. The baby. Why hadn't she woken me up? Did she drive herself to the hospital?

The drive to the hospital was a blur, a cacophony of traffic lights and the dull roar of my own thoughts. I was terrified, my mind conjuring the worst-case scenarios, but there was an undercurrent of anger too.

I was furious that she hadn't told me. Furious that I wasn't there with her, and she decided to do this on her own for some reason.

The hospital, bathed in the harsh glow of artificial lights, seemed like a bastion of dread as I burst through the doors.

The sight that greeted me when Angela hurriedly led me to Olivia’s room was one I would never forget: Olivia, lying pale and fragile on a hospital bed, her face etched with pain.

“Nathan…” Olivia craned her neck to look at me. Her eyes were clouded and full of tears and pain. She said no words, but held her hands out for me, beckoning for me.

“Olivia,” I choked out, rushing to her side. The gesture of her arms outstretched for me was so raw, so vulnerable, it pierced through my anger and fear. I gathered her into my arms, mindful of her pain, and a wave of protectiveness washed over me.

I wanted to scold her, to tell her that she was a downright idiot for not waking me up, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was just relieved to discover that she was alright.

“I’ve got you,” I murmured into her hair, even as I concentrated on pushing my Alpha abilities into her. I felt her body relax in my arms, the waves of soothing energy reducing her pain, even if it was just a bit.

Minutes passed, hours maybe. Time felt suspended in that cold, sterile room, only measured by the gradual smoothing-out of the lines of pain on Olivia’s face as I continued to channel my energy into her, not caring if it left me feeling like an empty husk.

At last, the door creaked open and a doctor walked in.

“I have good news and bad news,” the doctor said, a hint of relief in his voice.”The baby is alright; it wasn’t a miscarriage.” My heart nearly burst with relief, but that relief was quickly quelled. “But Olivia needs to be careful.”

“What is it?” I asked, standing.

The doctor sighed. “We think the bleeding was caused by cervical polyps,” he replied. “It’s not usually very serious, but it is something that we should keep an eye on. That amount of bleeding would indicate several very large polyps.”

“Cervical polyps?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

The doctor nodded. “Benign growths on the cervix. If they pop, which happened tonight, it can cause a lot of pain and bleeding. They’re not uncommon, but with Olivia’s history so far in the pregnancy, we’d like her to be careful.”

Careful. The word hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. Olivia's eyes met mine, and there was a silent understanding.

As the doctor left us alone, I looked down at Olivia, her face now peaceful.

“Polyps,” she repeated, as though tasting the words on her tongue. “I thought my baby was dying.”

My jaw instinctively clenched shut at her words, like that would somehow keep what I wanted to say from coming out.

I knew that it would be no use scolding her right then and there when she was recovering from such a harrowing experience, but at the same time, I couldn’t contain myself.

I felt a surge of emotions all at once finally bubble to the surface, begging to be set free — relief, frustration, anger.

“If you ever leave me out of our baby's life again, I'll have to lock you up,”I said. The words tumbled out of me, harsher than I intended, but the threat hung heavily in the air over our heads like a hot iron.

But even as I said it, relief was washing over me in waves, drowning the anger and fear that had gripped me.

“Promise to me that you won’t do something like this ever again,” I murmured.

Olivia nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to kiss her; I knew that I couldn’t. I had to quell my desires with a gentle kiss on her forehead, a meager representation of the feelings that I had for her.

She didn’t recoil. I looked down at her, noticing how her eyelids fluttered shut as exhaustion took over her. It seemed as though she didn’t even notice my kiss, or maybe it was my kiss that finally lulled her to sleep.

With a sigh, I sank down into the chair beside her bed, half cursing her in my mind and half jumping for joy that she and the baby were both okay.

Instinctively, as she slept, I couldn’t help myself from reaching out and taking her hand.

I looked at Olivia, our fingers intertwined, and knew I would do whatever it took to protect her, to protect her child.

During those moments, I thought back to our conversation in the diner; she didn't see herself as a true Luna. And it was true — she wasn’t a real Luna.

At least, that was what I initially told myself. Her title was only a theory, a facade to keep our narrative running. But now, as I looked at her, I started to feel entirely different.

To me, Olivia was my Luna. I didn’t know how I would make her realize it, but I knew that I had to show her how I really felt.