Page 65 of Breakaway Daddies

The baby.

The responsibility.

The weight of what’s at stake.

I inhale deeply, pushing aside the sharp sting of tears threatening to spill, and fumble for my phone, the device feeling slippery and unfamiliar in my trembling hands.

My fingers tremble as I type out the message. I fell. Nothing major, but… maybe someone should take me to the ER. Just to be safe.

The words hang there, stark and unchangeable, and I hesitate before pressing send. It’s done. No take-backs.

The screen hasn’t even dimmed when my phone buzzes urgently in my hand.

It’s Rowan calling.

I answer, cradling the phone against my ear with my good hand, the other resting awkwardly by my side.

“Jinx? What happened? Are you okay? Where are you hurt? Is the baby—?” His voice is a rapid-fire mix of concern and questions.

“I’m fine,” I whisper, and it’s barely audible over the thudding in my head. “I just… I think I should get checked out.”

“We’re coming right now,” he insists, his tone firm and reassuring.

“I—thank you.” My voice wavers, cracking on the last word as I struggle to hold back tears.

He continues, his voice a stream of inquiries, listing off items they’ll bring and asking if I need anything specific. The noise is overwhelming, a relentless wave crashing against my already frazzled nerves.

I end the call abruptly.

It’s rude, I know, but my head pounds like a relentless drum, and my stomach churns with anxiety. I can’t handle the clamor right now.

I just need to find stillness, to breathe deeply, and hope they arrive soon.

It feels like an eternity, just me and the relentless thud of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears, until the front door slams open with a bang loud enough to make me flinch.

The guys burst in like a frantic rescue squad—Rowan’s voice slices through the air first, low and sharp with panic as he calls out my name.

Thomas crashes into the room next, skidding to his knees beside me, his face a mask of worry that looks like he’s about to cry.

“Oh god—Jinx, babe, are you okay? Are you—did you hit your head? Are you dizzy?” His hands hover in mid-air, fluttering like nervous birds, unsure where to land without causing me more pain.

Bruno barrels in right behind him, his questions firing off like a machine gun. “Did you lose consciousness? Can you move your fingers? Do you have vision changes? Nausea—wait, you already had that. Did you?—”

“Bruno,” Rowan snaps, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip crack. “Stop, the woman just fell, why are you rattling off questions like a cop?!”

I groan, pressing the heel of my palm firmly to my forehead, hoping to quiet the throbbing. “Can you all just… be quiet for a sec?”

They all instantly freeze, their eyes widening as they look at me like I’m a delicate glass sculpture, not a woman who just had the bad luck to trip off a step ladder.

My head’s pounding, and the dizziness lingers, but with them here, the fear ebbs away, replaced by a heavy weariness. And… weirdly, a feeling of safety wraps around me like a warm blanket.

Thomas and Bruno each slip an arm under mine with the utmost care, as if I’m a fragile porcelain doll that could shatter at the slightest mishap. Their eyes are fixated on my face, scrutinizing every expression, every wince, looking for any hint that I’m downplaying my condition.

I can read their fear in the clenched set of their jaws and the rigid tension in their shoulders—they’re terrified of what might happen next.

Rowan follows closely behind, poised to catch me at the first sign of instability, ready to spring into action if I waver.

“Okay, okay,” I mumble, my voice unsteady as I stand, trying to breathe through the sharp pain. “Let’s go, but—wait.”

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