Rejected and Pregnant I Fled The Pack novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63

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Chapter 63

Damon pov

The clinic staff redirected me down a different hallway than the one I’d left my mother in hours earlier, and I felt my confusion mounting with every step until I pushed through the door they indicated and found her standing near the window, pacing slowly, a small bundle held carefully against her chest.

“Mom?” I stopped short in the doorway, staring at the unmistakable shape of a newborn cradled in her arms. What-”

“She went into labor,” my mother said, turning toward me, exhaustion and something like wonder both visible in her expression. “Not long after they admitted her for the psychiatric evaluation. The stress, the doctor said, can sometimes trigger early labor. She’s four weeks early, but healthy. Small, but healthy.”

I stared at the baby, taking in her tiny, scrunched face, dark wisps of hair just visible beneath the thin hospital blanket, and felt something complicated move through my chest-not quite the overwhelming, immediate love I’d felt holding Willow for the first time, but something adjacent to it, some instinctive tenderness toward this small, entirely innocent life that had arrived into all of this chaos with absolutely no say in any of it.

“Is she alright,” I asked. “Marissa, I mean.”

“They sedated her, after the birth,” my mother said quietly. “She was still spiraling, even through labor, saying things that didn’t make sense, terrified something was going to happen to the baby. The doctor thought it was safest to help her rest, let her body and mind both settle before continuing the psychiatric evaluation.”

“Can I see her?”

My mother nodded toward a door at the end of the small room, and I made my way over carefully, pushing it open to find Marissa lying in the hospital bed, pale and exhausted, an IV taped to one arm, her eyes closed in what looked like genuine, deep rest for the first time in what I imagined had been days.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, uncertain whether to disturb her, when her eyes fluttered open slowly, unfocused at first, before finding me across the room.

Something shifted in her expression immediately-relief, unmistakable and raw, breaking through the sedation’s heavy fog.

“Damon,” she said, her voice slurred slightly, thick with exhaustion and medication both. “You came.”

“Of course I came.” I moved closer, pulling a chair up beside the bed, watching her carefully. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” Her eyes drifted briefly toward the door, toward where my mother still stood with the baby. “Is she okay? I keep asking, but nobody will” Her voice caught, tears welling despite the obvious sedation working through her system. “I need to know she’s okay.”

“She’s fine, Marissa. Small, since she came early, but healthy. My mother’s got her right now, and the doctors say she’s doing well.”

Something in Marissa’s shoulders finally eased at that, a long, shaky breath escaping her. “I thought-during everything, I kept thinking something terrible was going to happen to her. That I couldn’t protect her, that everyone was going to-” She stopped, pressing a trembling hand against her face. “I don’t even know what I was thinking, honestly. None of it made sense, even while it was happening.”

“The doctor thinks it might be something related to the stress of everything,” I said gently. “Everything that’s

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Chapter 63

+15 Bgnus

happened these past months-the isolation, the pregnancy, my father’s threats. It sounds like it built up until your mind couldn’t handle carrying it anymore.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted quietly, her voice small and vulnerable in a way I’d rarely heard from her, even back before everything fell apart between us. “Scared of what happens now. Scared I won’t be able to take care of her properly if this happens again.”

“You’re not doing this alone,” I said, surprising myself slightly with how readily the reassurance came. Whatever you need-actual treatment, ongoing support, time to heal properly-we’ll make sure you have it. Your baby deserves a mother who’s actually well, and you deserve the chance to get there.”

Tears slipped down her face now, exhaustion and relief and lingering fear all tangled together. “I don’t deserve your help. Not after everything I did to Evelyn, to you.”

“This isn’t about what you deserve,” I said carefully. “It’s about making sure a newborn has parents capable of actually taking care of her. Whatever happened between us, whatever damage you caused, none of that changes what you need right now.”

She was quiet for a moment, processing that, her eyes drifting closed briefly before opening again, still hazy with sedation. “Have you told Evelyn?”

“Not yet. I will.”

“She’s going to hate that you’re helping me.”

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