CHAPTER 70: HATTIE
The week Preston was gone felt different this time. He still called every night, but something in his voice had changed. The warmth that used to be there—the teasing, the easy laughter—was gone. His words were careful, distant, like he was talking to a coworker instead of me. I tried not to overthink it. Told myself he was just tired, busy, distracted. But deep down, I knew something was shifting. Before we found out about the baby, everything had felt simple. We were figuring things out, falling into something that felt real.
Now, it was like he was building walls I couldn’t see over. When he finally came back into town, I wanted to believe things would feel normal again. He showed up at my door with coffee and that same tired smile. “Ready for today?” I nodded, clutching my jacket. “Yeah. I think so.” The drive to the clinic was quiet. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his knee, and I kept glancing at him, searching for something familiar in his expression. At the ultrasound, the nurse dimmed the lights and spread the cool gel across my stomach. The screen flickered to life, and there it was—a tiny shape, a heartbeat fluttering like a whisper. “That’s your baby,” she said softly. I looked at Preston. His eyes were fixed on the screen, his jaw tight. For a moment, I thought I saw something break through—wonder, maybe, or fear—but then it was gone. “It’s still too early to tell the gender,” the nurse said, printing out a few pictures. “But everything looks good.” I smiled, clutching the black-and-white images like they were the most precious thing in the world.
Preston smiled too, but it didn’t reach his eyes. That night, we cooked dinner together—pasta and garlic bread, something simple. We talked about nothing important, just to fill the silence. When we finally went to bed, I curled up beside him, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing until I drifted off. Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke with a sharp pain low in my stomach. At first, I thought it was a cramp, but then I felt it—the warmth, the wetness. I threw back the covers and saw the blood. My heart stopped. I stumbled to the bathroom, my hands shaking, the world spinning around me. The pain came in waves, sharp and deep. I sank to the floor, gasping, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of what was happening.
“Preston!” I screamed. He was there in seconds, his face pale, eyes wide. “Hattie—oh my God.” I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head, sobbing, my hands covered in red. He dropped to his knees beside me, his voice breaking. “It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re going to the hospital.” He wrapped a towel around me, lifted me into his arms, and carried me to the truck. The drive was a blur of headlights and tears. I could hear him whispering, over and over, “Hold on, baby. Please hold on.” At the ER, everything moved too fast—nurses, questions, bright lights. They took me back, Preston’s hand gripping mine until they made him wait outside. When the doctor came in later, her face said everything before she even spoke. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “You’ve had a miscarriage.” The words didn’t make sense. They didn’t sound real. I stared at her, waiting for her to take it back, to say she was wrong. But she didn’t.
When Preston came back into the room, I couldn’t even look at him. I just stared at the wall, the sound of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears. He sat beside me, his hand trembling as he reached for mine. “Hattie…” I shook my head, tears spilling down my cheeks. “The baby is gone.” He pulled me into his arms, and I broke. The sobs came hard and fast, shaking through me until there was nothing left. We stayed like that for a long time, the world outside fading away. When they finally let us go home, the sky was just starting to lighten. The pictures from the ultrasound were still hanging on the fridge. I couldn’t bring myself to look at them. The house was silent when we walked in. Preston helped me to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the emptiness settle in. Everything had changed again. Only this time, it wasn’t the beginning of something new. It was the end.
When I finally opened my eyes, the room was dim and quiet. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The air smelled faintly of lavender and rain, and the ache in my chest came rushing back before I could even take a full breath. Then I felt it—an arm draped gently over my waist, a soft, steady rhythm of breathing beside me. I turned my head and saw Maisie. She was curled up next to me on top of the covers, still in her jeans and sweater, her hair a tangled mess. Her eyes fluttered open when I moved, and she gave me a small, sleepy smile. “Hey,” she whispered. That one word undid me. The tears came before I could stop them, hot and heavy, spilling down my cheeks.