Page 44 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

It broke her.

“I’m sorry, Emmy,” she heard him say.

Disoriented wasn’t a good enough word for how Emmafelt. It was almost as if her body had shut down the moment she was rolled intothe back of an ambulance, like her mind didn’t want to deal with what washappening and it simply turned off.

She was shuffled from a stretcher to a wheelchair, andthen asked to move to another bed. She was poked and prodded by gloved hands,and sweet, concerned faces shadowed her vision every so often, asking questionsand getting no answers.

Emma barely felt the needle for the IV.

There was bustle in the room, but she didn’t care tofind out who.

The tears still fell. She had started to bite on herpalm to hold back the sobs.

Another hand grazed her cheek, but it was ungloved andfelt familiar.

“Oh, dolcezza,” she heard whispered.

Calisto.

“I have to check,” came a lighter, feminine voice.

Emma tried to blink away the tears and haziness. Shefound her body was draped with white, scratchy blankets. The thin hospitalkind. The room had a sterile smell and appearance with its white walls, brightlights up above, and clean floors.

She took another look around.

“Sweetheart, can you open your legs for me?” thedoctor asked.

Emma ignored her.

What hospital room was she in?

Why was there a heating bassinet for a baby and ascale?

Another woman in scrubs opened up the door, and stucksomething right below the room number. It was a small, blue drop.

Like a teardrop.

Emma gasped sharply when her knees were pushed apartand suddenly, a hand was between her thighs. Fingers pressed too deep,searching and measuring.

“Seven,” she heard say. “She’s seven centimeters.”

“She’s only eighteen weeks,” Calisto growled. “That’snot even possible.”

Emma sobbed.

“There’s nothing we can do. Not at this stage. I’msorry. Maybe if it was just a couple centimeters. Or maybe four or five, wecould place a stitch and put her on bedrest. This is too far. She’s …”

“What?’ Emma croaked.

She knew her face was a mess of tears and matted hair.They had cut off her dress when she couldn’t even get her own arms to work intandem with the nurses around her. She was so out of it.

She couldn’t do this.

“You’re going to have to deliver the baby, Emma,” thedoctor said so quietly that it was barely a breath. “I’m sorry, but the baby isalready pressing down, and your cervix has prematurely begun to open. The babyis small enough that it won’t wait for you to go the full ten centimeters.”

Emma cried harder.

The doctor couldn’t be saying what she thought shewas.