Chapter 80

ASHER

I’ve never been a fan of hospitals. I just want to get that out there before I share anything else. The last time I willingly walked into one, my oldest sister was on the brink of death, and before that, it was my dad when I was just a kid.

These places, all of them, seem to bring nothing but heartache to my family. My mom is sitting next to me, her hand resting on my thigh as if to reassure me that Maddison will be okay. Do I need reassurance? Not really… Maddison isn’t my girlfriend or anything.

Maddison’s been examined by the best doctors money can buy, thanks to my fathers, but they seem to take just as long as any other doctor. Mom thinks Maddison has an infection, that she’s dehydrated and all the other stuff that goes along with that. But who really knows?

I get so bored that I pull out my phone and download that old snake game my parents used to play on their ancient cell phones. It’s mind-numbingly dull, and by the third time I’ve grown a snake too long for the screen, I’m ready to throw my phone.

Just in time, the doctors walk in and head straight for us.

“Good evening,” the female doctor says, glancing between Mom and me. “Shall we sit?” she suggests.

She and her colleague pull up chairs across from Mom and me, sitting with straight backs, their paperwork resting on the woman’s lap. Is it that serious?

“We’ve run some tests on Maddison, and we’ve found the issue. This might be hard to hear, but we’d like your permission to proceed with treatment,” she continues.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Unfortunately, Maddison has an ectopic pregnancy. The fetus has implanted outside of the uterus, in her right fallopian tube. The tube has ruptured, and she’s been bleeding into her abdomen. There’s a significant amount of fluid there,” she explains.

“Okay…so why do you need my permission?” I ask, confused about why they’re asking me.

Mom nudges my leg, giving me a look that says, ~Play along~, but I’m not getting it.

“We can proceed with the treatment without your permission. But as the presumed father and boyfriend, we feel it’s our duty to ask,” she explains.

“Ah.” It finally clicks. Mom’s been up to her old tricks, it seems.

“Do what’s best for Maddison,” I tell her without thinking about the implications.

With that, they leave, and that’s how my evening begins. I sit there, mulling over the decision I just made without giving it any real thought. I didn’t consider the consequences, didn’t weigh the pros and cons.

“Mom?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“What are they going to do?” I ask her.

She looks at me, frowning, then turns in her chair. I follow suit, turning to face her.

“Asher,” she begins, blinking rapidly before squaring her shoulders. “The pregnancy isn’t viable. With a ruptured tube, it may have already ended. But if not, they need to remove the fetus and the tube and drain the blood from her abdomen.”

“Okay,” I say, glancing at the clock then back at Mom. “And what does that mean for her future, if she wants to have another baby?”

“It could affect her fertility. But losing one tube isn’t as devastating as it used to be. The other can compensate for the loss.”

“And if I go out there and tell them not to do it?”

“That would be harmful to her health, Asher. There’s no other option; they have to remove the fetus and the tube…”

“But? What aren’t you telling me, Mom?”

“There’s nothing else, sweetheart. That’s all there is.”

I nod. Mom wouldn’t lie to me. I turn back around and ponder the information she’s given me.

It’s a shame that this is happening to Maddison. A shame that they have to remove her baby and her tube, but it’s for her own good. Especially since I doubt the baby is from a man she chose to sleep with.

I think about the clause in my own contract with Addison and Ebony. I wonder if the men sleeping with Maddison have the same rules. And that leads me to wonder how she got pregnant and whether she wanted this baby.

Maybe it’s Jonathon’s. A wanted child from a strange and messed-up relationship between the two of them. The idea of it makes me queasy, but it’s Maddison’s life, and she seems determined to stick with him.

It bothers me that she wants Jonathon, despite everything he’s done and will continue to do to her. That night she showed up, bruised and swollen… I can’t help but shudder. What had he done to her?

The room falls into silence again. Mama turns back to me, placing her hand on my knee as my leg bounces nervously. I try to swallow my anxiety about the situation, forcing myself to sit still.

I hope they’ll return soon with the news that they’ve done what needed to be done and that Maddison is okay. But as time ticks by, my anxiety grows.

~Have they finished yet?~

~Is Maddison okay?~

~Is she awake?~

~Talking?~

~Will they tell her it was my decision?~

~If not, should I tell her I allowed them to take her child?~

“If they don’t stop the bleeding, she will die,” Mama blurts out, her eyes closed and her grip on my leg tightening.

I swallow hard; the word die is just another reminder of the sorrow hospitals bring. Suddenly, I’m angry. Angry that I had been second-guessing my decision. Furious that this place and others like it pose a threat to the people I care about.

“You lied…” I say, shocked. Could Maddison die? The thought of the beautiful brunette lying in a bed somewhere, life slipping away, fills me with rage.

The pain that shoots through my chest is confusing.

~Why?~

~Why do I feel like this?~

~Why am I so…so…~

~Why do I care?~

“I didn’t want to scare you, but that’s a possibility, sweetheart. Especially since she’s already lost so much blood,” Mama says.

“She’ll be okay, right? Once they’ve fixed the problem, she’ll be back to normal, right?” I ask.

“It doesn’t work that way; we have to wait and see what the surgeons say after the operation. And then wait for her blood test results. It’s a waiting game,” she replies.

I hate that Mama knows all this, that her job gives her this insight. I think I might have been better off not knowing. But now it’s there, lodged in my mind. The harsh reality that Maddison might die.

It shouldn’t upset me; I barely know her. She’s not an important person in my life, but the thought of the doctors coming in to tell us they couldn’t save her is heartbreaking.

I shudder, standing up because I can’t sit still any longer. I pace the small room, waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting impatiently.

Every tick of the clock is a reminder of the anxious wait for news about Maddison’s condition.

And it doesn’t come for over an hour. I spend the whole time pacing, sitting, standing.

I drink cold water from the vending machine, sipping from a paper cup. I fold the cup into a bird, like Grandad used to do.

I’m terrible at this; I hate not knowing. I hate having to wait.

Patience has never been my strong suit.

Just when I’m about to lose it, the door opens. Dad, Tyler, is with a female doctor.

She walks in, still in her surgical scrubs, her hair covered, a mask in her hand.

“We’ve successfully removed the tube and fetus and drained the blood. Maddison is in recovery; you’ll be able to see her soon,” she tells me.

I nod, the worry still gnawing at me.

As she leaves, I let out a sigh.

“She was pregnant?” Dad asks.

“A tubal pregnancy,” Mama explains, moving to hug him.

He nods, swallowing hard.