Page 320 of Wicked Brutal

The room goes quiet again. Except the machine. The clicking. My breathing. Ally crying.

I stare at the screen. Black. Gray. White. Nothing makes sense. Then the tech stops. My whole body locks. She adjusts the wand. Clicks. Moves slightly. Stops again.

“What?” No answer. “What is it?”

“Ryan,” Darla murmurs.

“Something changed.” The tech presses a button. Measures something. My heart pounds so hard I can hear it. “Is that the baby?”

Ally’s hand nearly crushes mine. The tech changes something on the machine.

And then — sound. Fast. Rhythmic. Filling the entire room.

I stop breathing. Nobody moves.

Ally’s eyes fly open. “What is that?”

The tech looks at her. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

My knees stop working. I hit the chair harder than I mean to. Ally turns her head. Finally.

She looks at the monitor. “That’s—“ Her voice disappears.

The tech points to a tiny flicker on the screen. “Right there.”

“That’s our baby?”

“Yes.”

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

A sound comes out of Ally, and I fold. My forehead hits her hand. A sob tears out of me. Then another. I can’t stop them. I don’t try. Alive. Our baby is alive.

Ally’s fingers slide into my hair. “Ryan.” I nod against her hand. “Ryan, our baby is alive.”

“I know.” It barely comes out. I lift my head and find her face, wet and shaking and finally, finally looking. “I love you. God, I love you both so much.” She’s crying too hard to answer. I kiss her hand. Her wrist. The inside of her palm. “You did it. You kept them safe. You’re so strong, baby, you have no idea.”

The heartbeat keeps filling the room. Fast. Strong. Alive. Mom covers her mouth. The first sob escapes anyway. Darla turns away, both hands over her face, her shoulders shaking. Nobody says anything. There’s nothing to say. For a few seconds there’s nothing in the room but four people crying and our baby’s heartbeat.

Then Ally’s expression changes. Slowly. I know before she says it.

“Mom never heard this.”

Mom’s sob catches. Darla lowers her hands.

“Ally.”

“She saw the pictures. I showed them to her. She touched them. She kept staring at them.” A tear runs into Ally’s hair. “She said they were beautiful, even though you can’t even tell what you’re looking at.” My throat closes. “But she never heard this.” Ally looks at me. “She would’ve loved this.”

“Yeah.” My voice cracks. “She would’ve loved it.”

“She would’ve cried.”

Mom loses it completely, lowering her forehead to Ally’s arm. Darla wipes at her face.

“She would’ve been a mess,” Darla says, wrecked.