End Game: A Dawson Family Series, #2

1

Quinn

Idon’t know what hurts worse: my wrist or my stomach. The pain there is more concerning, and my wrist could be broken in two and my mind would still be on my baby. I know it takes a lot to hurt a baby this early in the pregnancy, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying. I flatten my hand over my stomach, looking at the spot where the guy was just standing. I’m shocked, scared, and unable to figure out why he looked so familiar .

Sam takes off after the guy, and I stand there, rooted to the spot for a moment before I shake myself and get my phone from the floor. The screen has blacked out, and I hold it up, unlocking it with facial recognition, and

call

911

.

911. What is the location of your emergency? the

dispatcher

asks

.

I, uh, I don’t know, I breathe, heart still racing. Am I imagining it, or is the pain in my stomach turning into dull cramps? I’m at my boyfriend’s house, I rush out, realizing that’s not helping my case. And I don’t know his address. I’m visiting from out of town. Sorry.

It’s all right, we can attempt to track your location. What is your emergency?

Some guy was pounding on the door and then burst in, I say and pull the phone away from my ear, putting it on speaker, and go to Maps so I can see where I am. He hit me with the door and I think he’s on drugs.

"Is he there with

you

now

?"

No. He left. I drop a pin at my location and give the dispatcher the address.

"Keep your door locked. An officer is on

his

way

."

"

Thank

you

."

I hang up, still shaken, and completely ignore the dispatcher’s advice. Sam is out there, and I need to make sure he’s okay. Almost tripping over the entry rug again, I step over it and into the hall. Sam rounds the corner, jogging back toward me. He’s not black and blue or bleeding at least.

"Fucker ran out into the street. I

lost

him

."

Nodding, I step back inside and lock the door as soon as Sam is inside. "I called the cops. Someone will be

here

soon

."

Good. Are you okay? He plows a hand through his

blonde

hair

.

I bring my hands to my stomach and look down. Getting hit with the knob hurt, and the base of the door also whacked my feet. I just didn’t realize it until now when I see a broken and bleeding toenail. My left wrist aches something terrible, and it’s a little hard

to

move

.

"I’m

not

sure

."

"How far along

are

you

?"

Eight weeks.

Sam lets out a sigh of relief. Your uterus is still low in your pelvis. You should be okay. But your wrist… He gently takes my arm and I wince. It’s starting to swell.

"It hurts. I have carpal tunnel in

that

one

."

It wouldn’t make it suddenly swell like this. Can you move your fingers?

I carefully bend all five fingers in toward

my

palm

.

What about move your wrist?

Oww, I say when I try to bend my

wrist

up

.

It’s either a sprain of a fracture.

Great, I mumble.

"Sit and try to relax. I’ll get

you

ice

."

Moving to the couch, I bring my right hand to the spot where the doorknob hit. It’s right below my belly button, and even though I know the baby is nestled deep inside my uterus, it’s hard to imagine it not being right there, feeling the shock wave of getting hit so hard I

fell

over

.

Are you okay in there? I whisper, tears filling my eyes. This baby wasn’t planned. Archer and I weren’t even dating at the time of conception. Knowing I’m having a baby has turned my life upside down. But not having this baby would catapult my life into darkness.

Sam comes back into the living room carrying an

ice

pack

.

Archer got called in for surgery, I say as he sits on the couch next

to

me

.

"I know. He called on his way to make sure I’d look out for you. I’m doing a bang-

up

job

."

"It’s not your fault. Do you have any idea who

that

was

?"

Not at all. Sam puts pillows under my arm, elevating my wrist and then carefully arranging the ice pack. If the swelling gets worse, you should go in for an X-ray. Sometimes scaphoid fractures can be confused for sprains.

My right hand is still on my stomach. "I can’t get an

X

-

ray

."

You’ll be well protected, and it’s just your wrist. Not your abdomen.

I’m still being exposed to unnecessary radiation, which makes me feel guilty even though I didn’t do anything wrong. I fell. More than just fell, actually. I got

knocked

over

.

The guy knew Archer.

Maybe he was an old patient or something? Sam gets up and goes to the window, looking down at the street that runs along the building.

Are there cameras on the traffic lights? I ask, moving the ice pack a bit. It’s getting cold already.

"I’m

not

sure

."

If there are, I can hack in and see if I can find anything.

Sam turns, eyebrow raised. "Hack in? You can

do

that

?"

"I can. But I won’t. I sigh. I just need something to do to calm my nerves."

And hacking into the city’s traffic cams will calm your nerves?

Most definitely, I say and then laugh. Sam laughs too, shaking his head. Archer said you are good with computers.

It’s my thing.

Sam goes to the door and looks through the peephole before moving back to the couch. Have you really hacked into things?

Nothing that could get me arrested. Well, I did once, but I was helping the police catch a guy who’d racked up thousands on stolen credit cards. My brother is a cop in a small town, I explain. "Their tech department isn’t

the

best

."

That’s pretty damn cool. He turns away from the door and comes back to the couch. He’s on edge, and not being able to catch and beat up this Bobby guy is

bothering

him

.

Should I try calling Archer?

Sam checks the time. "He’s still in the OR. I’ll call the hospital and have him notified as soon as

he’s

out

."

"

Thanks

,

Sam

."

A minute later, the cops arrive, and we give our statements. As much as I try to root for the law, the two officers who showed up don’t seem too concerned. They don’t seem to really care at all, actually. The guy just opened the door hard. He didn’t break and enter. He didn’t actually touch me. They say they’ll keep an eye out, and leave.

Locking the door after them, I debate on calling Weston and asking for advice on the subject. The guy creeped me out because of the way he looked at me, and the way he saw me in this shirt and knew it had something to do with Archer. I guess that’s not technically illegal, but I still feel like something more should

be

done

.

Walking back to the couch, I bend over to pick my phone up from the coffee table. A sharp, stabbing pain hits me right in the stomach, and I freeze, waiting for it to

go

away

.

But it doesn’t, and the sharp pain turns into a deep cramp.

2

Archer

"Y ou’re needed in

the

ER

."

I give the medical assistant a quizzical look. "The ER? Are

you

sure

?"

She’s sitting behind a desk in the PACU and just got off the phone. Her eyes dart to it and she nods. That’s what they said. I asked twice since it’s not your area, but you’re being requested by Dr. Harris.

Sam is in the ER asking for me? He’s off today and he’s never in the emergency room. Why would he—

oh

shit

.

Quinn.

My phone battery was low, so I plugged it in and left it with my clothes when I changed into surgical scrubs. I rush through the recovery area to get it and see I have missed texts from both Quinn and Sam. The most recent one is from Sam, and I have to read it twice because my brain refuses to believe what I’m seeing.

Someone tried to break in and Quinn got hurt. We’re at the ER. I’ll have you paged.

I scroll up, reading as I run down the hall, stopping only to get into an elevator. None of his other texts give me information, and neither do Quinn’s. I get into the elevator and call Quinn, but I don’t have service

in

here

.

My heart starts to race. Sweat breaks out along my back. Someone tried to break in? Quinn must have been fucking terrified. I curl my fingers into a fist, rage surging through me. Quinn got hurt. Bad enough to come to the ER. If anything happened to the baby…nope. I can’t think

like

that

.

The baby is fine. Quinn

is

fine

.

They have

to

be

.

They’re my life. My family. I knew I wanted the baby from the moment I saw those bold, black words on the pregnancy test, but the thought of having it taken away from me makes my heart ache, making me realize just how bad I want this. The timing might be all wrong, and we might be doing things a bit out of order, but I’m ready.

I want Quinn to have my baby and for us to be together, living happily ever after for the rest of our lives. I want to marry her when the time is right and add another baby or two, hell, maybe even three, to our family. We’ll be loud and crazy, and things will be hectic and chaotic, but it’ll be perfect.

The elevator stops one floor down and an elderly couple takes their sweet ass time getting in with their walkers. I do my best not to glower at them and repeatedly push the button taking me to the main floor.

My heart beats faster with each passing second. Sometimes you don’t realize how much something means to you until it’s taken away. Nothing’s been taken—not really—but the thoughts of what if are bad enough.

I move to the front of the elevator and ask what floor the old folks are going to. Thankfully, it’s the same one, and we start the descent down. It only takes thirty seconds, but it feels like an eternity. I run down the hall, and when people see doctors running, they usually get out of the way, assuming I’m responding to an emergency.

I push through the swinging ER doors and look around for a nurse or attendant to tell me which room Quinn is in. They’ll be able to tell me faster than I could look it up myself. Then I see Sam standing near the nurses’ station, talking with a pretty redhead. He doesn’t look overly concerned, which has to be a

good

sign

.

Where’s Quinn? I ask as soon as he sees me. "Is

she

okay

?"

"She’s fine, I’ll take

you

back

."

"If she’s fine, why is

she

here

?"

We start walking through the hall. "I was able to get an ultrasound faster in

the

ER

."

I stop dead in my tracks. If she’s okay, why does she need an ultrasound?

To give her peace of mind, he says and keeps walking.

That’s not giving me peace of mind. What happened?

He slows when we get to the room Quinn is in and lowers his voice. Some guy was banging on the door asking for you. Quinn unlocked it to let him in, and the guy shoved the door open. The knob got her right in the stomach, but she’s so early in the pregnancy you know she’s most likely fine. She’s bruised and scared, so I made a call and got her in to get an ultrasound, and Dr. Taylor is coming down from delivery when she gets a moment.

Thanks, man. I let out a breath.

"Of course. It’s the least I could do. Quinn’s pretty freaked out. And she hurt her wrist. It’s swelling up, and I told her it might be fractured, but she refused an

X

-

ray

."

I blink, taking all that in. "Someone was asking

for

me

?"

Yeah. He looked fucked up on something.

My phone is still in my hand, and I look down to unlock it. I go to my pictures only to remember I don’t have a single photo of Bobby. Logging onto Facebook instead, I madly scroll through my mom’s profile until I find a picture

of

him

.

"Is that

the

guy

?"

Sam narrows his eyes, inspecting the photo. Bobby isn’t tweaked out in it, and the filter my mom used makes him look almost healthy.

Yeah. Why do you—oh fuck. Is that your brother?

It is. I bring my hand to the back of my neck. Bobby was at the apartment. Looking for me. I haven’t even seen him in years, and I didn’t know he had my address. "Why the fuck is he—it doesn’t matter. She’s

in

here

?"

Sam nods and I go in without knocking or seeing if another physician is in there. I need to get to Quinn. As soon as her eyes meet mine, I know she needs

me

too

.

Archer. She pushes up off the bed, reaching for me. She’s wearing pajama shorts and my Duke University shirt. Her hair is messy, and her eyes are watery.

I’m so sorry, babe. I sit on the bed next to her and take her in my arms. She’s shaking.

The nurse was just in here, she squeaks out, voice tightening. "She tried to find the heartbeat with a doppler and couldn’t. I wasn’t really worried before. Sam thought it’d be reassuring to come in and see that everything is okay. But now I’m freaking

out

more

."

Her words send a jolt of panic through me. All I hear is there was no heartbeat, and I have to force myself to think about things objectively in order to remember dopplers don’t always pick up heartbeats this early.

"That doesn’t mean something happened to

the

baby

."

"But what if

it

did

?"

This early on, the baby is well protected in the womb. It takes a lot of force to cause damage. Keeping my cool and not getting overwhelmed with emotions is part of what makes me a good surgeon. I feel for every one of my patients, I really do. But I don’t let it get in the way of taking the best possible care of them. I have to do the same for Quinn.

She nods and lays back. Goosebumps break out over her flesh, and I get up, going to the cabinet above the sink, and pulling out a white sheet. Shaking it out, I drape it over Quinn and sit back down next to her, squeezing in as much as I can on the small

hospital

bed

.

Sam said you hurt your wrist.

She winces as she lifts it up. The swelling isn’t as bad as I anticipated, but she’s

obviously

hurt

.

"It twisted when

I

fell

."

I close my eyes, gently taking her wrist in my hand, and feel a seething hatred for Bobby rise from deep inside of me. Over the years, there have been many times I’ve wanted to beat the shit out of him. I’ve held back for various reasons: not wanting to upset my mother, risk getting charged with assault, or damage my hands when I need them for surgery.

But now I don’t care. The next time I see him, I’m hitting him as hard as I

fucking

can

.

Do you think it’s broken? she asks. "I really don’t want to do an X-ray. The baby is so little and developing major organs

right

now

."

I carefully examine her wrist, hating seeing her in pain. No. I think it’s sprained.

Thank God. Wait. Sprains take longer to heal, right?

"Unfortunately, that’s the case many times. And you’re more likely to have issues with it

later

on

."

Great, she mumbles. I already have wrist pain. Her eyes fall shut and her jaw tenses. I move a pillow under her arm, propping up her injured wrist. She rests her other hand on her stomach and lets out a

deep

sigh

.

When she opens her eyes, she reaches over and takes

my

hand

.

It’s going to be okay, isn’t it? she asks, tears filling her green eyes again.

The words die in my throat, but I force a smile and squeeze her hand. As a doctor, I never promise false hope, never give an overly optimistic answer when I don’t know what the fate will be. But for Quinn, I know I have

to

lie

.

Yes.

Thanks, Arch. She squeezes my hand back. Did they pull you out of surgery?

No. I just haven’t changed yet. I smile and playfully nudge her, hoping to make her laugh. "Why, are you getting turned on from my ‘doctor clothes’ as you

call

them

?"

She doesn’t laugh, but her lips do curve up into a smile. A little. You can play doctor for me tonight.

I don’t have to play, baby. I lean down, putting my lips to hers. Just then, the curtain is pulled back. Thinking it’s Sam, I don’t move away from Quinn

just

yet

.

Ms. Dawson? the nurse says, clearing her throat. I move back and see Elena, the nurse I hooked up with a few times, standing at the foot of the bed. Her eyes widen when she sees me. We ended things on good terms, or at least I thought so. Our relationship was never serious, and we were both clear about keeping things casual from the start.

Dr. Jones, she stammers, eyes flitting from me to Quinn.

He’s the father, Quinn says quickly as if she’s afraid I’ll get in trouble for canoodling a patient or something.

Elena smiles. "I assumed so. Congratulations, Dr. Jones. I didn’t know you were having

a

baby

."

Thank you, I say and put my hand over Quinn’s belly. Quinn tenses and I know exactly what’s she’s thinking: congrats might not be in order if things…nope. I’m not letting myself finish that thought.

Do you want him to come with you for the ultrasound?

Elena

asks

.

Yes, Quinn says right away and gets up. Holding her left wrist against her body, we follow Elena into another room, and the ultrasound tech is already waiting for us. Quinn gets onto the bed, folds the waist of her shorts down, and raises her shirt a bit, exposing her belly. She has some bruising under her belly button, and I swear to God I’m going to kill Bobby.

I bruise easily, Quinn tells me when she sees the concern on my face. "I

always

have

."

I can only nod, too upset to open my mouth. Taking Quinn’s hand, I move aside, anxiously looking at the screen next to Quinn. Unlike the OB’s office, this room isn’t set up with a big TV for us to look at. This is the ER, and ultrasounds done in here have an entirely different story most of

the

time

.

The tech goes over Quinn’s information with her and then dims the lights. How far along are you? she asks and puts the jelly on Quinn’s stomach.

Eight weeks. Quinn’s hand shakes. I grip it tighter. Using my free hand, I smooth her hair back, not taking my eyes off the screen.

And you were hit in the stomach?

Yes. By a doorknob.

"Are you having

any

pain

?"

I felt some really sharp shooting pains and then felt crampy. It went away though.

I didn’t know Quinn was feeling any pain at all. Getting hit in the stomach in the first trimester isn’t usually a cause for concern…unless it’s followed by pain or bleeding.

A few seconds tick by and black and white shapes come in and out of focus. And then I see it, a second before the tech stops moving the transducer around. The outline of what looks like a tiny gummy bear, with a fast-beating heart.

Baby looks good and has a strong heartbeat, the tech says, and turns her screen so we can see better. She points to each little body part and lets us watch that beautiful tiny heart beating for another few seconds. Then she turns the sound on, and Quinn finally relaxes.

The tech prints out some pictures and gives Quinn paper towels to wipe the jelly from her skin. She leaves, saying the doctor will be in shortly. Annoyed no one has done anything for Quinn’s injured wrist yet, I leave for a few moments and come back with supplies to ice and

splint

it

.

I never realized how handy it’d be to date a doctor, she says with a small smile as I finish wrapping her wrist. I sit in the bed with her, wrapping my arms around her slender waist.

The guy who tried to break in, I start, working hard to keep my voice steady. Quinn turns to me, eyes meeting mine. And then Dr. Taylor knocks on the door, coming in a second later. She goes over the ultrasound—everything is normal.

Are you still feeling pain? she asks Quinn, looking at her chart on the computer screen.

Not right now. I felt it most when I was moving.

Did it feel like period cramps?

Quinn shakes her head. "Not at first. It was more sharp, like something was being pulled. Then it cramped and went away after a minute. I felt it again when I was getting in the car to

come

here

."

Are you bleeding or spotting?

No.

"The first trimester is full of aches, pains, and cramps. Everything looks good, so I feel confident saying those cramps are normal and you’re currently just more aware of them. And the sharp, pulling pain sounds like round ligament pain

to

me

."

Isn’t it early for that? I interject.

Textbook-wise, yes, she tells me. But I’ve had enough patients experience it I know some unlucky women start feeling the aches and pains from the start. She looks back at Quinn’s chart. Do you normally have high blood pressure?

I almost get up to peer over Dr. Taylor’s shoulder. Quinn doesn’t have high blood pressure. If anything, she’s on the low side, and I should—I need to stop. I’m not here as Quinn’s doctor, but as her boyfriend and the father of her child.

No, Quinn answers. I think it’s from the stress.

Me too, Dr. Taylor says and turns to the computer, putting in an order. I’m going to get you a dose of Benadryl. She flicks her eyes to me. Sounds weird, I know, but I’ve been giving this to my pregnant patients for years. It’ll lower your blood pressure and will help you sleep when you get home. Rest will help you feel better. Being stressed and tense will make you all the more aware of those aches and pains.

Thanks, Quinn says with a nod and finally relaxes

a

bit

.

"Take it easy, and follow up with your regular OB at home. And congratulations, both

of

you

."

Thank you, I say, getting up to shake her hand. Elena comes in right after Dr. Taylor leaves, with water and medication

in

hand

.

Are you sure this is okay for our baby? Quinn asks me quietly before she pops the pill in her mouth.

Yes, I assure her and she takes the Benadryl.

This makes me loopy, she says after taking a drink of water.

I remember, I say with a chuckle. I think you were like sixteen or seventeen when you got poison oak all over your arms. Your mom gave you Benadryl and it was like you were drunk. Dean and I might have used you for our entertainment, and for that, I’m sorry.

Oh my God! I almost forgot about that. Quinn shakes her head, laughing. "It was terrible. My goat got out hours before I had to load him up to take to the county fair. He was a muddy mess and I was covered in

a

rash

."

Elena looks away from the computer for a second, eyeing us both. "Sounds like you two have known each other a

long

time

?"

She’s a good nurse and a decent human being. She’s not going to say anything or cause a scene, but I can sense the jealousy. Quinn turns her head to me, eyes sparkling. It makes my heart

speed

up

.

I’ve known Archer since I was fourteen, she says. He was my brother’s college roommate.

Aww, that’s so sweet, Elena says with a fake smile. "Okay…you’re almost ready for discharge. You can return back to normal activities. If you