Out of all medicine-related things Alec taught me in Indonesia, two stuck with me — don't waste time and don't jump to conclusions.

It's hard to remember that when the patient is someone you love. That's why I'm uselessly staring at the blood on Leah's panties. 

Blood.

Physiology.

Not all blood is the same, and the color tells you a lot. Bright red is new. Dark red, almost brown, is older. Less dangerous.

The stains I see are bright red. 

"We have to get you to the ER," I say, cupping Leah's wet cheeks. "Don't move."

Leah nods. I rush to the living room, where I dropped my phone and call the cab. Back in the bathroom, I rummage in the vanity drawer for a pad. A relieved sigh leaves my mouth when I locate it.

"Let's put this on your underwear," I say and do just that with Leah staring at me. She's in shock. So am I, but one of us has to move.

I dress Kitten and grab her purse and the phone. We leave the apartment building and get into the cab that's already waiting for us.

The drive is short. I pay the driver and lead Leah to the ER. That's one of the benefits of volunteering I underestimated — I know where everything is, and I know people. One guy, in particular, is more than familiar. 

"Brian." Ava's dad's eyes widen and move between Leah and me. "What's wrong?"

"Leah's pregnant, and she's bleeding," I say, pressing my girl to my side. 

Doctor Morris nods. "Harper is here. You've met Dr. Lincoln, haven't you?"

"Yeah." I give Leah a small smile to put her at ease and refocus on Ava's father. 

He nods toward an elevator. "Come with me."

After a brief ascent, we step out and follow Dr. Morris to an office. He knocks on the door, and it opens, revealing Alec's friend.

"Brian." She smiles. "What's going on?"

"Leah is pregnant, and she's bleeding," I repeat the words I'd already said.

"Does anyone treat you?" Harper asks Leah.

Leah shakes her head. "We just found out today. I don't have a gyn."

"Come on in, then, both of you." Harper smiles. "I'm going to do an ultrasound."

We enter the room. I rub Leah's cold arms and kiss her cheek.

"Do you know how far along you are?" Harper asks when Leah lies on the examination table.

"Around eight weeks," I answer instead.

Harper's face is impassive as she gets the equipment ready. I'm staring at her, afraid to miss even the slightest reaction despite knowing she won't give anything away. That's what doctors do. That's what I'll have to do one day.

Harper squeezes some gel on Leah's belly and moves the probe over it. The screen faces away from us. I shift on my feet and rake my fingers through my hair. 

The probe hovers over one spot in particular. Harper's fingers press some buttons, and a whooshing sound fills the room, getting replaced by a quick succession of taps.

Except they're not taps. 

They're beats — the frenzied beats of a tiny heart. 

"Here it is." Harper smiles, turning the screen around. She points to a small circle, more like an oval, and my heart squeezes at the same time as tears spring to my eyes and spill onto my cheeks, burning my skin.

"Look at that," I whisper to Leah, clutching her hand. 

She shakes with sobs, and I lean down and kiss her. My wet cheek presses to her temple as we stare at our baby for the first time.

"So tiny," Kitten says. Her voice trembles and more salty drops fall off her long lashes.

I breathe and stare. Stare and breathe. The heartbeat's there, but there was blood.

"Is the baby okay?" I ask Harper.

Her eyes shift from me to my crying girl. "Yes."

I swallow. "But? I'm a future doctor. We need to know the truth. There was blood."

"See this?" Harper points to the screen. "This black area here is what we call subchorionic hematoma, a blood clot between the amniotic membrane and uterine wall. It happens when the placenta partially detaches from where it was implanted."

"Is it because of something I did?"

My eyes dart to Leah, then to our doctor.

"It just happens," Harper says. "And it's nobody's fault. Not everything can be predicted and prevented. What we can do now is try to save the pregnancy."

"Try to. So we can lose the baby?" I ask, my pulse speeding up.

"It's a possibility. I can't lie to you and tell you it can't happen. As you can see, the black area is quite large. Way larger than the yolk sac where the baby is."

"What can we do?" Leah grips my hand tighter, and I cover her fingers with the other hand of mine.

"Strict bed rest and intravaginal progesterone. It proved to be effective in reducing the risk of miscarriage. You'll stay here overnight, and we'll do another ultrasound in the morning. If everything remains the same, you'll go home and return for regular controls."

"Does she have to take supplements or other meds?" I ask.

"I'll give you a list and tell you what to do. Another important thing is zero stress. You need to be calm and patient. In the best-case scenario, the clot will dissolve without causing damage, but we're looking at several weeks, maybe a month. I can't promise much at this point."

In Harper's office, I sit next to Leah while Dr. Lincoln explains how to take folic acid and progesterone. 

They give Kitten a room, and once she's freshened up in the bathroom, I tuck her in and perch on the bed by her side.

"I'm sorry," I say, staring into the darkness. 

Leah's fingers wrap around mine. "Lie next to me."

"Sure?"

"Brian."

I kick off my shoes and climb onto the bed, putting an arm around Leah. I want to kiss her, but doubts anchor me to the spot. Will she forgive me for the way I left and the jealous shit I said? 

"I was also shocked," Leah whispers. "I've been tired for weeks, and pregnancy didn't cross my mind. I knew we didn't use protection that night. It's not your fault, Bri. And we made something beautiful together even if we're not ready. Because I'm not ready. I'm terrified of losing someone I haven't even met yet, but I love him or her because it's yours. And mine."

"I'm scared too," I say, looking into Leah's tired eyes. "And I reacted like an idiot out of shock. I want him or her, baby. I want everything with you. When I saw blood, I fucking prayed for us not to lose it. I'm just...I'm so afraid of not measuring up. Look at me. All my issues and my fuckups. I'll be raising a kid without having an idea."

Leah's fingers slide into my hair. She caresses my scalp, the movements so soothing I struggle not to close my eyes. "I wish you saw yourself the way I see you and loved yourself the way I love you," she says. "I see someone smart. Someone who's always fought for what's fair. Someone who can love unconditionally. Our baby is lucky to have a dad like you."

I bury my face in her neck and sob. 

"Bri...don't…" Leah kisses my hair and smoothes a hand over my shoulders and back. 

I hear her and nod, but I can't stop. Maybe because she said the words I didn't know I needed to hear. Maybe because she forgave me once more. Or perhaps because of the damn hope she gives me each time I lose it.

"I love you so fucking much." I lift my head and seek Leah's lips with mine. She kisses me softly, and I caress her hair and her cheek, feeling calm for the first time in hours.

We break apart after a while and lie on our sides, looking at each other. "Do you think it's gonna be alright?" she asks.

"I'll do everything I can for it to be even though it doesn't depend on us. You'll have to rest and take care of the baby. That's our priority. We'll figure out the rest later."

"He means nothing to me, Brian."

My brows bunch up. "Who? The racer dick? I know."

"Racer dick." Leah lets out a tired chuckle. "Yeah, him. I just needed a confidence boost because I have my doubts too. I don't want to be bitter like my mom was when I was little. I'm scared of screwing it up with our child because I'm  young and inexperienced."

"Then let's be scared together." I trace the contours of her face with my fingertips. "Let's learn as we go. We've been through so much already; maybe it's just another challenge to add to the list."

"The list." Leah mumbles, resting her head on my chest. "And the stupid fortune ball."

I press a kiss on her forehead. "And the worm. And the fireworks."

"We can't tell the baby that." Leah frowns at me. 

"It felt so good, babe."

Kitten slaps my chest. And grins. And I lift her shirt and kiss her stomach—every inch of it.

"I love you," I whisper against her warm skin and glance up. "Both of you. So much."

Why did this wreck me more than the previous chapter?

Waiting for your thoughts. More soon.