She was pregnant, and living with his brother. It was more than obvious that his brother was head over heels in love with Alyssa. What smart man wouldn’t fall for the woman? She was beautiful, talented, witty, and charming. She was a keeper. If Camden had felt even half a spark of passion for Alyssa, he would have chased after her—okay, he would have if she hadn’t already belonged to his brother.
Cam was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Hawk’s voice asking him if he was okay.
“I’m sorry, Hawk. I can’t think right now. I really need to get to the hospital.”
“Then go,” Hawk said.
“Thanks.” Cam turned to leave.
“You were thinking on your feet, Cam. Both Alyssa and the baby have a real chance,” Hawk said before Cam had taken more than a few steps.
“Thanks. I’ll try to remember that when I call Jackson.” Cam rushed to his truck and started it, his window down.
“She’ll make it,” Hawk said. “There’s no way fate can be so cruel to Jackson again.”
“I agree, Hawk. Jackson has been through enough.” Cam took off, already too far behind, afraid something bad had happened. He knew the hospital wouldn’t give him information, but as he made his way there, he picked up his phone, first calling Alyssa’s parents and letting them know where they could find their daughter, then . . . then calling his brother.
“Jackson, I have bad news . . .”
Her eyes now open, Alyssa tried to process the sounds around her as she was wheeled directly into an emergency room. She heard phrases such as early labor, uncontrollable bleeding, baby trauma.
No! It was way too early. The baby couldn’t come yet. They had to do something, had to stop whatever was happening.
“Alyssa, don’t panic. We’re going to do everything we can to save your baby,” someone assured her.
“It’s too early,” she cried, her voice gurgling.
“There’s blood in her mouth.”
“No . . .”
Alyssa felt the mask slip over her face, felt the lights begin to dim. It’s too early. It’s too early. Those were her last thoughts before she went under.
JACKSON RAN FROM the jet to his brother’s truck. “How is she?”
“She’s still in surgery,” Michael said. “I’m sorry, Jackson. We don’t have any answers yet.” He threw the truck into drive and peeled off down the road.
“Are her parents there?”
“Yes. The doctors have come out a few times to keep them informed, but so far her condition is the same. She’s still alive. The baby’s still alive. The last time the doctors came out, they were looking grim, though.”
“It’s been four hours. How freaking long can surgery last?” Jackson shouted, knowing it wasn’t in any way Michael’s fault, but feeling the need to take his outrage out on someone—anyone. He should have been home.
“It’s not your fault,” Michael said as if reading his mind.
“I shouldn’t have taken off.”
“Jackson, women are pregnant every day and they go about their lives. She was driving home. She hit a deer. There was nothing you could have done to stop it.”
Michael had always been the most sensible of all of them. That didn’t make Jackson any happier.
“If she would just drive the damn truck I bought her, she wouldn’t be in this mess,” Jackson thundered.
Last week he’d shown up at the house with a brand-new one-ton Ford pickup. It had good safety ratings, could easily handle any weather, and would have taken a hit from the deer without flying off into a ditch.
Had she been happy about the truck? Hardly. She’d ranted at him for an hour about his wasting money on ridiculously expensive gifts for her, and about how she wasn’t going to be bought by a spoiled billionaire.
He’d come back at her, telling her that she needed to learn how to say thank you and accept things when he gave them to her because he cared. The conversation had gone back and forth several more times before she’d stormed off. By the end of the “conversation,” he’d felt as if a few layers of his skin had been taken off. The makeup sex had been well worth the lecture, though.
Afterward, he’d thought the matter had been solved, but she’d stubbornly refused to drive the truck. He’d been close to driving her other car off a cliff so she’d have no choice, but he’d been trying not to be so controlling. Look where easing off her had gotten them now.
The doctors had warned her family that there was a chance neither she nor the baby would make it through the surgery. They had said not to give up hope, told them that Alyssa was fighting for her life, but there was internal bleeding.
Jackson wasn’t a praying man, but his head had been bent in prayer the entire flight home. There was no way he could lose this woman. Love wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d find again, but he was smart enough to realize how he felt about her was bordering on love. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he needed her, and he missed her when she wasn’t there.
When Michael pulled up to the ER, Jackson sprang from the truck and dashed inside. It wasn’t hard to find Alyssa’s parents; they were surrounded by members of his own family.
“You made it home quickly, son,” Martin said as he rushed up and threw his arm around Jackson’s shoulders.
“Is there any further news?”
Jackson didn’t want to sit and chat, didn’t want to hear sympathetic noises from anyone. He wanted just the facts, wanted to know what was happening in surgery.
“No one from the medical team has been out for about an hour. We’re still waiting. Your brother just got here.”
“Spence?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Why do they need a heart surgeon?” Jackson’s chest clenched at the news. His brother was one of the leading cardiothoracic surgeons in the country, quite a feat for a man so young. If he was here, something was definitely wrong.
“They’re trying to keep the baby inside her womb. It’s far too early for delivery. But even if they manage to stop the labor today, she will deliver before the baby’s ready. It appears there’s a problem with the baby’s heart.”
“Oh, my . . .” Jackson slumped into the seat behind him. Alyssa would be devastated if she lost her baby.
Jackson realized that he’d be devastated, too. Though the child wasn’t his, it was a part of Alyssa and she was now a part of his life. He couldn’t lose either of them.