Chapter 2

"Placental abruption!" Betty's voice cut through the chaos. "Get her into the OR now!"

Hands grabbed my stretcher. The ceiling lights blurred above me. I tried to focus on Betty's face, but everything was moving too fast.

The pain was getting worse. Sharper. Deeper.

And the blood. I could feel it. Warm. Spreading.

"Betty," I managed to say. "The baby—"

"We're going to take care of both of you." She squeezed my hand. "Just hold on, honey."

But we were in the hallway. Not the OR. The OR was occupied.

By my husband. And Sienna.

"We need Dr. Colton," one of the younger nurses said. Her voice was shaking.

Betty pulled out her phone. Hit a number. Put it on speaker.

It rang three times.

"Betty, I'm in the middle of—" Colton's voice. Distracted. Annoyed.

"Your wife is bleeding," Betty said. Flat. Cold. "Placental abruption. We need you. Now."

Silence on the other end.

Then: "I'm at the pharmacy. Sienna needed some postpartum supplies. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes.

I was bleeding out and he was shopping.

Betty's face went red. "Colton, she doesn't have twenty—"

Click.

He hung up.

Betty stared at the phone. Then at me. Then at the waiting room full of people who'd just heard everything.

Mrs. Henderson stood up first. Her face was white. "Did he just—"

"He's at the pharmacy," someone else said. "His wife is dying and he's at the pharmacy?"

The murmurs started. Angry. Shocked.

Betty turned to face them. "Listen up. I need O-negative blood. Who's O-negative?"

Five hands went up.

"O-positive?"

Ten more hands.

"Everyone else, spread the word. We need donors. Now."

Mrs. Henderson already had her phone out. I watched her fingers fly across the screen. Facebook. She was posting to the town group.

"Done," she said. "I'm O-negative. Where do you need me?"

Betty pointed to the small lab room. "In there. We'll start with you."

Mrs. Henderson went. Then Mr. Patterson. Then Jake.

Jake stopped by my stretcher. His eyes were red. "You saved my dog last month. Remember? He got hit by that truck."

I nodded. Barely.

"Guess it's my turn to return the favor."

More people were arriving. The news was spreading fast. Through the waiting room. Through text messages. Through that damn Facebook group.

Sarah Mitchell appeared. Sarah. Who'd made my high school life hell. Who'd followed Sienna around like a puppy. Who'd laughed when I asked Colton to prom senior year.

She stood there, looking at me. Looking away.

"I'm O-positive," she said quietly. "If you need it."

Betty nodded. "Get in line."

I wanted to say thank you. Wanted to say something. But another wave of pain hit and all I could do was gasp.

"Blood pressure's dropping," a nurse called out.

"Where the hell is the backup doctor?" Betty snapped.

"Dr. Ashford's on his way," someone answered. "ETA five minutes."

Dr. Ashford. The specialist from Denver. The one who'd come to evaluate the clinic last month. The one who'd told me my equipment was outdated.

I'd thought he was rude.

Right now, I didn't care.

He arrived exactly five minutes later. Tall. Dark hair. Those gray-green eyes that never quite met anyone's gaze. He took one look at me and started rattling off orders.

"Type and cross. Get me four units to start. Prep for emergency C-section. Someone page anesthesia."

"We only have—" a nurse started.

"Then use what you have and call every hospital in the county. This is a code red." He looked down at me. "I'm Dr. Quinn Ashford. I'm going to help you. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"Good." He looked at Betty. "Where's the attending?"

Betty's jaw tightened. "Unavailable."

Something flickered in his eyes. "Then I'm taking over. Let's move."

They wheeled me into the second OR. The backup room. The one that wasn't quite ready.

I didn't care.

The last thing I saw before they put the mask over my face was Quinn's expression. Focused. Determined.

And then everything went dark.

Time became strange. I floated in and out.

Voices reached me through the fog.

"Fifteen units." Betty's voice.

"Keep going." Quinn's voice. Steady.

"Twenty."

"Her pressure's still dropping."

"Get me more blood. Now."

More voices. Footsteps. The sound of machines beeping.

"She saved my dog." Jake. I heard Jake. "Least I can do."

"I'm O-positive. Use mine." Sarah. That was Sarah.

"Where's Dr. Colton?" Mrs. Henderson. Loud. Angry. "Where the hell is her husband?"

"I heard he's at the pharmacy." Someone else. Whispered.

"The pharmacy?" Mrs. Henderson again. "His wife is bleeding out and he's shopping?"

Silence. The kind that felt heavy.

Then Quinn's voice cut through. "I don't care where anyone else is. I care about keeping this patient alive. Next unit. Now."

Time stretched. Compressed. I couldn't tell if minutes or hours were passing.

"Thirty units."

"Pressure's stabilizing."

"Keep monitoring. We're not out of the woods yet."

"The baby?"

"Alive. NICU's ready."

The baby. My baby.

I wanted to ask. Wanted to see. But I couldn't open my eyes. Couldn't move.

"Forty units."

"Jesus," someone breathed. "Who donated that much?"

"Half the town's in the hallway," Betty said. Her voice sounded thick. "Forty-two people so far."

Forty-two.

Forty-two people.

But not the one that mattered.

"I won't let her die." Quinn's voice. Close. "Do you hear me? I won't."

Who was he talking to?

Me?

Himself?

The world faded again.

When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the ceiling. White tiles. Fluorescent lights.

I was alive.

My hand went to my stomach. Flat. Empty.

The baby.

"Maren?" Betty's voice. She appeared in my vision. Her eyes were red. "Oh thank god. You're awake."

"The baby—"

"He's okay. He's in NICU but he's okay. You've been out for almost a day."

A day.

I tried to sit up. Couldn't. Everything hurt.

"Easy," Betty said. "You lost a lot of blood. We had to—" She stopped. Swallowed. "It was close, honey. Really close."

I looked at her. At the tears in her eyes.

"Forty-two people donated," she said. "Can you believe that? Forty-two. Jake, Sarah, Mrs. Henderson. Even people from the next town over when they heard."

Forty-two people.

"Where's Colton?" The words came out before I could stop them.

Betty's face changed. Hardened.

"Maren," she said carefully. "There's something you need to know."

"Betty," I said. "Just tell me."

She sat down in the chair next to my bed. Took a breath.

"After Colton hung up, Mrs. Henderson posted about what happened on the town Facebook group." She pulled out her phone. "It went viral. In Millbrook terms, anyway."

She handed me the phone.

The post was simple. Just facts. The time. The accident. Two pregnant women. One doctor. One choice.

And then: Dr. Colton Whitmore chose to help Sienna Hartley first. His wife Maren was left bleeding in the hallway. He said he'd be back in twenty minutes. He was at the pharmacy buying supplies for Sienna.

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