Page 101 of Mended Hearts

Dry-heaving.

With Oliver Hart holding my hair. Perfect.

Fuck. My life.

When the spasms eased, I collapsed back on my heels, trembling. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” He flushed for me, then helped me lean against the wall.

“I just—you made breakfast—what the fuck?”

“You good for a second?”

I nodded, mortified. He returned with water, crouching as I swished and spit.

“You okay?”

“I think so. Must be the tail end of that bug. Have you heard from Emma—are the kids alright?”

“They’re at the zoo,” he said, some unreadable warmth in his eyes. “Nobody’s sick, baby.”

He cocked his head, studying me. “Leigh, it’s almost Christmas.”

“Hey, left field called—they want their ball back.”

He chuckled, then sat, peeling off his T-shirt in one smooth move before tugging it over my head. The humiliation eased the second the cotton fell to mid-thigh.

But my brain buzzed through worst-case scenarios.

Fatigue. Light-headedness. Now puking and shaking? The old fear of my heart condition slithered free.Not again.My pulse felt steady, but dread wound up my spine.God, not again.

“Leigh, did you hear me?”

I blinked up at him; the crease between his brows had deepened.

“It’s late December. You haven’t been down for the count once. You’ve never called in sick for cramps. When was your last cycle, baby?”

“What?”

“You said your cycles vary but never go longer than ninety days. When was your last period?”

October. The beginning of October. The answer crashed through me, silent and horrifying.

“Impossible,” I whispered.

“Condoms break. We went through, what, six?”

“I can’t get pregnant, Ollie.”

Terror iced his features. “What do you mean, Trouble? Unsafe for your heart?” He glanced at the scars he’d worshipped but never questioned. “I know the best doctors in the city—say the word.”

“Ollie, they told me I was sterile. PCOS, no ovulation, ‘inhospitable environment.’”

Agony flickered across his face, but his hand cupped my arm. “Just to be safe, let me order a test.”

I shook my head, finding my feet as the bridge of my nose burned. Terror turned my breaths shallow, and I fought to control them as every shaking muscle in my body begged me torun—to go anywhere but here.AnywhereI could actually let the tears roll without the world’s most amazing man watching me crumble like a poorly-constructed house of cards.

Fuck, I needed my mom.Great. Twenty-three, and I needed my fucking mommy.Pathetic.

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