I’m lying in a hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling trying to figure everything out and coming up very empty.

Dragon’s alive. How can two words flood you with such joy and fill you with white-hot anger all at the same time? He’s alive. He lied all this time, and let me think he was dead. He let me grieve for him. He let me hurt. How do I forgive that? I don’t even know why he did it, but I know it was for the club. It’s just another example of him putting the club before me. I was hating myself because I put Dani first. Why? Apparently, it is completely okay to do that. There are no lines you can’t cross.

“Mrs. West?” The doctor comes in and Bull stands up. I don’t have the heart to correct the doctor with my real last name. I’m too damn tired. I had told the doctor I would be Mrs. West last time we talked. I was wrong—about so many things.

Bull’s hand goes to mine. He came back as soon as they dressed me in a hospital gown and got me settled into a labor room. Which is really just a private room in the hospital, equipped for delivery of the baby. I didn’t complain, and given that I’m scared to death. It’s good having him here with me.

The nurses placed these large bands around my stomach and are monitoring my contractions. They gave me some medicine through a drip to try and stop them. They aren’t as frequent, but they haven’t stopped. The only reassurance I have is the sound of the fetal heartbeat echoing from one of the machines. I like they are keeping track of the baby’s heartbeat. I need that, and Bull’s hand wrapped securely around mine right now. It’s all I have. I squeeze him tighter as the doctor looks at me, his face is solemn, so I know the news can’t be good.

“I’m afraid we’ve been unsuccessful in stopping the labor.”

Bull caps his free hand over our already joined ones.

“What does that mean?” he asks and I’m glad, because I can’t seem to find my voice.

“Realistically, we’d like for your wife to be at least another month along…”

“She’s my damned wife, not his.”

Dragon is standing at the door shooting angry glares at me and Bull. It’s okay, because I can give them back; I just have too much to worry about right now. The doctor looks startled. Someone should prepare him, because I have a feeling it’s only going to get worse.

“Coming back from the dead must have given you amnesia, because I left your ass at the altar. Please, continue doctor.” It would appear that with Dragon around, I find my voice relatively easily. It also helps that my anger at him gives me something to focus on, rather than the fear I have for my baby.

The doctor clears his throat, looks back between Dragon, me, and Bull nervously, but continues.

“As I was saying, ideally, we would prefer you to be another month along, but healthy babies are delivered every day at 28 weeks and above.”

My hand goes to my stomach, and I rub it gently. I’m terrified. That’s probably the only reason I let Dragon come over and place his hand on top of mine, blanketing our child together. Now is not the time for our fight. We need to concentrate on the baby.

With that decision made, I look at the doctor.

“We chose this hospital based solely on the abilities of your NICU and reputation. So, I have to trust you. Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“Will my baby survive?”

“I can’t give you surety Mrs. We…Nicole. Based on the ultrasound and records you’re at twenty-seven weeks. This means the baby’s lungs are developing. He’s started producing a substance called surfactant. This will help keep the lungs inflated when he’s born. That increases his chances tremendously.”

I can’t stop the tears that come. It feels like all I’ve been doing lately is crying, but none have been more terrifying than these. I can’t lose my baby. I can’t. Up until this point, I thought they would be able to stop it. I know that’s naïve, I should have known when my water broke, but I was still functioning with hope—you would think after the last two weeks, hope would have fled.

“Nicole, babies are amazing in their resilience. Today, a preemie that was born at twenty-eight weeks is having this G.I. tube removed and eating completely on his own.”

His words should bring me comfort, and they do in a way. Still, I picture this tiny baby with tubes and wires and the tears fall again.

“We’re going to prepare a surgical room for a cesarean. I know you wanted a natural child birth, but we want the delivery to be as comfortable and stress free as possible for the baby.”

“O…okay.” I’m doing my best to hold the tears back, but I can’t. One hand is grasping Bull’s and the other is still allowing Dragon to hold it. I’m weak.

The doctor gives me a kind smile and then leaves. My eyes close; the tears still falling, and I try to breathe slowly. I don’t want Little Dragon to know I’m upset. I’m sure he’s had enough of that lately. Dragon kisses my tears. I want to melt into him and trust him to make it all better, but I can’t. I can’t trust him. He betrayed me. I turn my face away to look at Bull. He squeezes my hand.

I need someone to tell me it will be okay. No one can. So, I pray.

I just pray.