Page 116 of Anchor
Claire nodded. “I’ll tell them tonight, when they come on rounds.”
Tuck gave her shoulder a final squeeze and moved toward the bed. He lowered himself into the chair beside Reid and took a long breath. “Well, you little bastard—heard you twitched on her.”
No response.
Tuck chuckled under his breath. “Should’ve figured you’d pick now to do things backward.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Listen. You don’t have to barrel through this like a damn freight train. But you can’t tap out either. You hear me?”
Stillness.
Tuck glanced at Claire then back to Reid. He shifted and softened his voice, the way he used to when Reid was a boy. “There’s someone else in this now.” He reached for Reid’s wrist, pressing his pointer finger gently over the pulse. “You’re gonna be a dad.”
Claire sucked in a breath but stayed silent. And then Reid’s fingers curled.
Deliberately.
Tuck didn’t react big, just watched and waited. There was another movement. Reid’s hand twitched.
Tuck exhaled slowly. “That’s what I thought.”
IN THE DARK
There it was again. The sound that wasn’t a sound. The vibrationof meaning crashing through the murk like thunder underwater. “You’re gonna be a dad.”
The words didn’t register at first. But thenpregnant.The concept lit up something buried in his brain like a detonation. Not just sound now and not just touch—there was urgency.
He wasn’t just trying to wake up anymore. He was trying to get back. Back to the woman with the voice. Back to the hand that held his. Back to the word “dad,” which burned through his chest like a command. He pulled harder than before. The fog cracked, and he pushed again. He saw light.
1810 HOURS
Tuck stepped back as Claire moved in slowly, lowering herself to Reid’s bedside. She gripped his hand, firm and certain. “I didn’t want to tell you like this. Not when you couldn’t look at me.”
Reid didn’t move. But she knew better now. Stillness didn’t mean silence.
“I thought we had time,” she whispered. “But I pretended it didn’t matter because you were dying.” Her voice caught, but she didn’t look away. “It matters.”
She placed his hand gently against her belly—she wasn’t showing yet. “You have something else to fight for now.” She leaned in. “And if you don’t open your damn eyes soon, I swear to God, I will tell our kid you were impossible from day one.”
His lashes flickered.
Claire froze. The room seemed to stop breathing.
Reid’s eyelids twitched again. They tugged upward, failed, then tried again.
Claire tightened her grip. “Come on,” she whispered. “I’m right here.”
IN THE DARK
The wordpregnantechoed inside him like a bell struck hard against bone. Her voice came through clearer than ever.You have something else to fight for now.
The fog thinned. The pulse in his skull flared once—a flare of pain, not bad, but real. Then he felt light. It was not a metaphor. He clawed toward it.
His eyelids fought their own gravity, heavy, stuck, but something inside him surged. He forced one eye to lift, just a crack. And through the brightness, he saw a shape.Claire.
Tears slipped down her cheek, just one or two, but she was smiling like she couldn’t stop it. “You’re back,” she whispered.
And for the first time, without confusion, without fog, he knew who he was.
1816 HOURS
