He made a beeline for the kitchen, then the hallway. “Leila! Where are you?”
When she didn’t answer, he started searching bedrooms, and then, finally, he pushed the door to the bathroom open. She lay flat against the cold floor, her eyes closed.
No.
Not Leila. Not now.
He screamed. His vocal cords ripped as he fell to the floor, pulling Leila’s head in his lap. Her face was stark white, yet her cheeks beamed scarlet. He screamed again, or maybe he never stopped. His fingers greedily searched for a pulse, and he finally breathed again when he found it, the steady but slow rhythmic beat under his shaky touch.
Drew appeared in the doorway, his face falling as he took in the scene. “Oh my God, what happened?”
“I don’t know. I found her like this,” he said in a rush. “Call an ambulance. Now!”
Drew disappeared as Henrik’s instincts started to take over. He grabbed the medication bottle off the floor and started reading frantically. “Take once daily—” his eyes scanned the information “—for blood pressure.”
Why was she taking blood pressure medicine?
He laid her head on the floor and hurried to the sink, finding a washcloth and soaking it in cold water. He brought it back and placed it on her head before lifting her up into his arms. He had to get to the hospital.
Drew met him in the hallway. “They’re on their way.”
“Good. I’m taking her to meet them outside.”
“Is she going to be okay?” he questioned, his voice tight. “Please, Henrik, tell me she is going to be all right.”
“I don’t know, Drew. I think her blood pressure is too high, but I don’t know why.”
He rushed out the front door, stepping over Derek, who was now conscious enough to groan. The elevator sounded down the hallway, and he ran for it. Carl stepped off as he ran past him. “Make sure that idiot is out of here by the time I get back,” he yelled, “or I seriously might kill him for this.”
Carl nodded. It took the paramedics fifteen minutes to get there, and as the doors closed, tears started to stream down his face. “I’m going to the hospital with her,” he told Drew. “Go find Austin, and make sure he gets there.”
“I want to go too,” Drew pleaded.
“I know, but one of us needs to find Austin. He deserves to know.”
Drew took one long look at him, and then nodded. “I’ll call him. We can meet somewhere along the way.”
Henrik started to move, but Drew grabbed him again. “If you get to talk to her, tell her I’m on my way, okay?”
“I will.”
“I have to be there for her.”
Drew was breaking down. He held on to him. “I know, Drew. You will be. We all will. I promise.”
He nodded, stepping back. “Go. Hurry.”
***
The drive to the hospital was a blur. When Henrik shut off the engine, he couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten there. Two ambulances were out front, one unloading a frail old man, while the other closed its doors and started to pull away with its lights on. He rushed through the sliding doors in front of the paramedics, headed straight for the information desk. “Leila Blakely,” he half yelled, his urgency thick in his voice. “Young, red hair. She was unconscious.”
The lady eyed him for a moment, which only grated his nerves.
What the hell was she waiting on?
“Are you her brother?” she inquired, scrutinizing his appearance. “The paramedics mentioned a brother would be following them.”
“That’s me, I’m Austin Blakely,” he lied, praying she wasn’t a hockey fan. “Where is she?”
“Third floor. East wing.”
“Why would they take her upstairs? Isn’t this the E.R?”
Again the lady eyed him suspiciously. “Special circumstances,” she retorted, but he wasn’t listening. He was halfway down the hallway, attempting to decipher the signs to figure out the quickest way to the east wing.
He cursed two different elevators for their lost sense of urgency, and almost barreled over three different patients in wheelchairs. He came to the east wing entrance, only to find the double doors locked. He shook them angrily before he started beating on one, yelling to anyone on the other side who might hear him. A speaker directly to his right beeped, and a soft voice spoke. “How may I help you?”
“I’m here to see Leila Blakely.”
Another beep followed, and the doors stirred to life, both opening as if granting him entrance into some special, restricted haven. He immediately found the information desk and the owner of the voice on the intercom. “What room is she in?”
“Three twenty-two, but you can’t go in yet,” she insisted, standing. “The doctor is still with her.”
“The hell I can’t,” he hissed, whirling around to find the room. He located the door and pushed, but was met with resistance. Stepping out from behind it was a lady. She was older, her brown hair graying. “Hello,” she greeted, seeming surprised to find him there. “May I help you?”
“I’m here to see Leila,” he said shakily.
She nodded. “I understand. I’m Dr. Anderson. You’re Austin, correct?”
She wouldn’t be smiling if she was actually sick, right?
“Yes,” he told her hesitantly. “Is she okay?”
“For now.” She tucked her clipboard under her arm and led him down the hallway. “Her condition is quite serious. She needs to be more careful. I put her in the CHIPS trial study because I truly believe she is an excellent candidate. However, the medication can’t help if she continues to trigger episodes with increased stress. She is to be on complete bed rest for the foreseeable future.”
“Condition? What condition?”
“Preeclampsia. She assured me her brother understood the seriousness of the situation when I admitted her into my study group.”
“Remind me,” he urged.
“If we can’t keep her blood pressure down, it may mean early delivery, and even then I can’t guarantee the safety of her or the baby.”
“B-b-b—what?”
“The child won’t survive if she delivers this soon.”
“Deliver.” He was going to puke…or pass out. Maybe both. “As in, deliver a baby.”
“Yes. Your sister is only fourteen weeks along.”
“Fourteen weeks.” His brain moved sluggishly. “You’re telling me Leila is fourteen weeks pregnant. With a baby.”
“Yes,” Dr. Anderson said, looking at him oddly. “She told me at her appointment last week that you knew about her condition.”
His limbs went numb, and he skidded down the wall to the floor.
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, concern crowding her face as she bent down to look at him. “You’re starting to turn a little pale.”
“Leila’s pregnant. Fourteen weeks,” he said, more to himself than Dr. Anderson. Despite millions of images and thoughts running rapidly through his mind, he was able to deduce what that meant.
Leila had only ever been with him, and he had a sneaking suspicion it was probably fourteen weeks ago.
“Dr. Anderson,” the receptionist announced from the down the all, “there seems to be more family on their way up to see Miss Blakely. More brothers.”
He looked up in time to see Austin and Drew barreling through the double doors with the same reckless determination in their eyes. “Where is she?” Austin demanded. “Why the hell is she in the labor and delivery ward?”
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Anderson told him, looking around, confused. “Who are you, exactly?”
“I’m Austin Blakely. I’m Leila’s brother.”
The doctor shot Henrik a glare, to which he merely nodded. “He’s telling the truth,” he admitted. “I’m—”
The father?
Before he could figure out what he was supposed to say, Austin demanded information again. “Why did you bring her to labor and delivery for blood pressure issues?”
“Preeclampsia is a serious condition,” Dr. Anderson said curtly.
“Wait a second,” Drew intervened. “Leila doesn’t have preeclampsia. Don’t you have to be pregnant to have preeclampsia? She told Austin she was having problems with her blood pressure.”