Page 86 of Accidental Mile High Daddy
“What? Zach’s already half-fucked from all your trauma bonding — why not give him siblings to match?”
The world wentred.
I didn’t think, didn’t speak.
My fist cracked across his jaw so hard I felt the bones shift beneath my knuckles, heard the tell-talecrunchof something in my hand breaking.
He stumbled back into the doorframe, swearing, a hint of blood on his teeth, clutching the side of his face like he hadn’t thought I’d actually do it, like he didn’t realize I’d wanted to foryears.
“You talk about her again, you evenbreathesomething like that about my fuckingkid, and I swear to God, Ryan, I will end you,” I said, my voice eerily calm despite the words slipping through my teeth. “We’re done. You’re cut off. You can have what’s left in your trust and survive on that, but I’m not funding you anymore.”
He laughed, but the sound was thin. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”
I turned my back on him without another word.
Sienna hadn’t moved — she was still standing there frozen on the walkway, her eyes wide, one hand covering her mouth and the other resting on her stomach. “Matt,” she breathed. “You just—youhit him.”
“Yeah,” I swallowed, shaking my hand and wincing when I felt something insiderubthe wrong way. “Felt good until the?—”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
A sharp gasp.
A strangled sound that didn’t belong in her throat.
Both hands clutched at her stomach.
My fucking heart stopped.
“Sienna?”
She bent forward slightly, eyes squeezed shut, pain etched across her face, and no, no, no,no. She was only just overfive months.“Ow—Matt—Matt, shit?—”
Every last ounce of anger vanished. Fear took over.
Chapter 29
Sienna
Hospitals had a way of feeling silent even when machines beeped and nurses moved briskly down fluorescent, chemical-scented halls. Everything felt too clean, too bright, toomuch. I was lying in a private room that was far too large for what I needed—Matt made sure of that—wearing one of those thin gowns that barely covered anything, especially with my still-sticky stomach in the way, the ultrasound tech having just left. My legs ached. My arms felt heavy. My brain wouldn’t stop spinning.
It felt like my blood had been replaced with pure panic.
The pain had passed, mostly. It had come on so fast that it had stolen the breath from my lungs, sharp and searing and enough to make my vision haze at the edges. Matt had rushed to me, terror in his eyes, and ushered me into the car as fast as he could manage. But it wasn’t labor, wasn’t anything disastrous, per what the doctor said — instead, it was a particularly nasty episode of round ligament pain. Common. Scary, yes, but not dangerous.
That part was fine. Manageable. But it was the ultrasound that struck us both down.
Matt squeezed my hand like his life depended on it as we stared at the grainy black and white screen, the tech pointing out movement between them. Two tiny heartbeats beat away like they didn’t know how much they’d scared me. They were perfect, still.Healthy.
And both girls.
Matt had choked when the tech told us, his eyes going glassy with relief and excitement and the crash of too much fear ebbing away. But I didn’t cry. I didn’t even smile, not at first — I just looked and desperately tried not to fall apart entirely.
“That’s the cervix,” the doctor said. “Unfortunately, Sienna, it’s already started to shorten. It’s early, way too early.”
My pulse picked back up again. I could hear it on the monitor.
“What does that mean?” Matt asked for me, our entwined knuckles on hisnotbroken hand pressed to his lips.
