Page 149 of This Woman Forever

“I’m fine,” she reiterates, taking in her mangled Mini. The Mini she shouldn’t have been driving.

“Ava, don’t defy me on this, please,” I say, taking on a begging tactic rather than a full force demand. She’s delicate. Still in shock. “I have no problem pinning you down in the ambulance so they can confirm you’re okay.” I tilt my head and see her flick a nervous smile at the officer. “Are you going the easy way, or the hard way?” I ask.

“I’ll go,” she breathes, and that’s the only reason I release her. “My bag.”

I check she’s stable on two feet before I let go of her. “I’ll get it.”

“My phone’s on the floor,” she calls after me. The closer I get to her Mini, the colder I feel. How differently this could have played out. It’s chilling. I thought an attempt to drug her was low enough. This? I need to get us out of town for a while. Make a few calls, and maybe now actually get the police involved.

I retrieve Ava’s bag and phone and hurry back to her, holding her hand as we’re led through the crowds to the ambulance. I help her into the back.

“Sir,” the copper says, armed with a notepad and pen. “While she’s being taken care of, do you mind answering a few questions?”

Now? “Yes, I do.” I snort, eyes on Ava as she looks down at me and the paramedic fiddling with a machine beyond. Blood pressure? Heart rate? “You’ll have to wait.” They should know she’s expecting. I need to tell?—

“Sir, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

I turn a death stare his way. Yeah, I’m sure. Problem is, answering his questions isn’t a priority right now. Not to mention the fact that I have no fucking clue what to tell him. “My wife and child are in the back of that ambulance,” I say, pointing blindly to Ava, seething. I expect I’ll get told he has a job to do. Well, so do I. “The only way you’re going to stop me from seeing to them is if I’m dead.” There’s a fucking time and a place for questions, and now isn’t it. “So fucking shoot me.”

He backs off, and I return my attention to my wife. She’s standing just inside the ambulance doors while the paramedic continues to fart-arse around behind her. What, there’s no rush because she’s walking? What the hell does someone need to do to get a little urgency around here? I shake my head in despair, drop my eyes, take a breath, and have a quiet word with myself before I upset the medics as well as the?—

I frown when a see a trickle of blood appear from beneath Ava’s dress, and my eyes follow its path over her smooth skin down her leg. “Baby, you’re cut,” I whisper, running my fingertip through the trail.

She fists the material of her dress and shifts it up, looking down at her legs. “Where?” Her dress gets higher. Higher. No cut. I step back, looking at my finger covered in blood, understanding creeping up on me. I gaze up at Ava with worried eyes, hoping she’ll diminish my fears.

Her face is blank.

No.

I act without thought, moving back into her, taking her dress and lifting it higher, trying to find the cut. There has to be a cut.

I lose my breath when I see the blood-stained lace of her knickers, my body locked tight.

“No,” Ava yells distraught.

Her distress realigns me. “Oh, Jesus.” I pull her dress into place and get into the back of the ambulance, hauling her into my body, feeling her vibrate against me. “Fucking hell, no.” Surely God can’t be this cruel. I clench my eyes closed, because I know He can be. And the familiar surge of grief hijacks me as I hold my wife, squeeze her, try to protect her from this injustice.

“Sir?” The paramedic looks at me with concern.

“Hospital,” I demand, my vision hazy. “Now.”

I sit Ava on the stretcher and put myself next to her, gritting my teeth when she retreats into my chest, her tears soaking through my T-shirt. “I’m sorry,” she croaks.

“Shut up, Ava,” I snap, angry, not with her, but with the fucking world. I pull her out of my T-shirt and find her eyes. I’m fucking crushed, even though I probably deserve this endless serving of grief. But Ava? She does not. And I have to ask myself now, when she’s losing like I have lost before, if I can stay. My punishments are my own. Ava shouldn’t have to face them. Knowing she will always be hunted by my horrid fate. Knowing she’ll always suffer loss if I remain in her life.

Can I stay?

“Please,” I beg her, as she sobs and shakes, apologizes over and over. “Just shut up.” I try to wipe her tears away, but they’re coming too fast. “I love you,” I whisper, pushing my finger into her lip, trying to stop it wobbling. She swallows and curls into my side, making herself so small.

“Pregnant?” the paramedic asks.

“Yes,” I answer, even if that’s not the case now.

She nods and gives me a sympathetic smile, and I cuddle Ava that little bit closer, hearing her mumbled apologies. I can only hold her. Until the paramedic explains we can’t leave until Ava’s lying down on the bed. So I release her, watching as they ease her to her back. Watching her silently crying, her chest jumping.

How much more do I have to sacrifice before my dues are paid?

25

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