Chapter 155

Chapter 155
Izzy woke with a sharp inhale, the kind that came from instinct rather than dream. Her hand moved before her thoughts did, sliding beneath the thin motel blanket, palm resting over the soft curve of her stomach. Something about the stillness of the room, the faint hum of the heater, the early morning gray filtering through the curtains—it all pressed down on her with a sudden, unbearable weight.
I need to know the baby is okay.
The realization rocked through her so hard she had to steady herself on the mattress. Beside her, Beck stirred. Sleep softened the hard lines of his face, but the moment he really looked at her, he jolted upright.
“You okay?” His voice was rough from sleep, warm and deeply worried.
Izzy tried to answer, but her breath hitched in her throat. She swallowed, forced the words out.
“I… I need to see a doctor.”
He blinked once. Then again. Not with hesitation—just absorbing her fear.
And then he nodded.
“Then we’ll go.”
No lecture. No panic. No argument. Just unwavering support wrapped in quiet resolve. It made her chest tighten almost painfully.
They dressed in silence, Beck helping her into her coat like she might break. Outside, the cold morning air smelled like pine and melting frost. They drove to a small walk-in clinic tucked between a hardware store and an abandoned diner—a place so simple, so unremarkable, it felt almost safe.
Izzy gave a false name at the desk. Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Beck sat beside her, elbows resting on his knees, gripping his hat like a lifeline. Every time she shifted even slightly, he glanced at her, a frown tugging his brows together.
The nurse finally called her back. Izzy stood—but Beck stood too.
“Want me to come with you?”
A part of her screamed yes, but fear of being recognized, fear of dragging him deeper into danger, made her whisper, “I’ll be okay.”
But when she walked away, she regretted it instantly.
The exam room was small, dimly lit. The doctor—a soft-spoken older man with kind eyes—worked gently, asking routine questions, never pushing when she hesitated.
Then he rolled over the ultrasound cart.
“Let’s check on the heartbeat,” he said. “You should be far enough along to hear it clearly.”
Izzy’s breath stopped. Her pulse hammered as he spread cool gel across her skin and pressed the Doppler down.
Silence.
She stared up at the ceiling, vision blurring.
And then—
Thump… thump… thump…
Soft, steady, pure.
Izzy’s entire world tilted.
Her lips parted, but her voice didn’t come. Tears spilled anyway—quiet, uncontrollable. Relief hit her like a tidal wave, almost painful in its intensity.
“Perfect heartbeat,” the doctor said gently. “Strong. Healthy. Everything looks good.”
Izzy nodded, unable to speak, wiping her cheeks with shaking fingers.
She had done something right. Something good. Something that mattered.
The moment she stepped into the waiting room, Beck stood so fast his chair screeched.
“How’d it go?”
She couldn’t answer. Not inside. Not with people watching. She walked straight outside, out into the cloudy light.
The second the door closed behind them, she broke.
Not sobbing—just a release, tears spilling hot and soundless. Beck cupped the back of her head instantly, pulling her against his chest, his voice rough.
“I’m here. I’m right here.”
She pressed her face to his shoulder, breathing him in, shaking with exhaustion and fear and relief tangled into one chaotic mess.
“I’m scared,” she whispered. “So scared someone’s going to take everything from me.”
Beck’s arms tightened.
“No one’s taking anything. Not while I’m alive.”
They walked back toward the truck, slower this time.
Until Beck stopped.
Izzy followed his gaze—and froze.
An envelope was tucked beneath the windshield wiper. Plain. White.
Unlabeled.
Beck snatched it, his fingers trembling at the edges. He ripped it open.
One sentence.
Written in her handwriting.
Except she had never written it.
You can’t raise my child on lies. —D
Izzy’s stomach dropped.
Beck went still, deadly still.
“He was here,” Beck said in a low, shaking voice. “He was fucking here.”
Izzy didn’t breathe. Couldn’t.
Beck’s eyes scanned the parking lot, wild and sharp.
“Get in the truck. Now.”
She obeyed. He climbed in, slammed the letter into the glovebox so hard the latch rattled, and peeled out of the lot.
Izzy pressed trembling hands over her stomach. The heartbeat she’d heard minutes ago seemed to pound inside her chest now.
“What if this was a mistake?” she whispered. “What if running was stupid? What if he’s been watching us—”
“Stop.” Beck reached over and grabbed her knee, grounding her. “You’re doing the right thing.”
Izzy shook her head, tears burning.
“He knows where we are.”
Beck’s voice softened.
“He doesn’t get to have you. Or the baby.”
“That’s what terrifies me,” she whispered. “Not me. Them.”
Her hand circled protectively over her stomach.
Beck’s jaw clenched. His eyes glistened—just barely.
“I’ll protect both of you,” he said fiercely. “I’ll die before I let anything happen.”
Izzy turned toward the window, breath fogging the glass.
For the first time, she wondered if running would ever be enough—
or if Dick Dane was already two steps behind them, closing in.
And ahead, the road stretched long and gray, disappearing into the unknown.
Everything felt fragile.
Everything felt borrowed.
And through it all, the memory of that tiny, steady heartbeat echoed inside her—
reminding her she had someone else to fight for now.