A woman with neon yellow hair shakes her head. “I told her long breaths.” She turns sad eyes toward Solomon. “She took short breaths.”
“What?” The words are gibberish to him. Time stands still as he scans the room. No sign of Tessie. He needs to see her; he needs her like air, and every second he’s far from her is like part of his life ticking down.
“Where is she?” he thunders, and when there’s silence, he takes a step forward. “Where the fuck is she?”
A woman wearing bright-orange leggings gasps. He lowers his voice, trying not to act like a fucking lunatic, but his heart is a racehorse out of the gate. Desperate to get to Tess. To find her. To make sure she’s okay. “Tell me where she is. Please. Now.”
A man in a staff uniform emerges from the circle. “We moved her.”
“Where?” His hands curl into fists. The thought of some Joe schmo manhandling a pregnant and unconscious Tessie makes his blood boil.
“Back here,” the man says, leading him behind a curtain.
Solomon’s heart leaves his chest, plunging into his stomach.
Tessie.
She lies on the floor, a pillow beneath her blond head. Her eyes are shut, her face ashen, her yoga tank has ridden up to expose the gentle moon of her belly. A second small circle of women surrounds Tessie, murmuring their concern, pressing a cool cloth against her brow. But to Solomon, they barely register. All his concern, all his focus, is on the unconscious woman in front of him.
“Move. Now,” he says, elbowing his way through the crowd. “Get away from her. Give her some air.”
He drops to his knees beside her, brushing his fingers over the golden hair stuck to her pale cheek, then looks up at the hovering attendant. “We need a doctor. Right now.” He doesn’t recognize his voice. It’s ragged. Wrecked.
He nods. “Si, se?or. He’s on his way.”
Turning back to Tessie, he rests a large hand on the hard ball of her stomach. God, he’s dying. Fucking dying, and he won’t recover until he sees the brown of her beautiful eyes. She looks so vulnerable, so still it scares the fuck out of him. He closes his eyes, rage and helplessness twisting his gut.
Too close.
Just like Serena when he found her on the side of the road. So lifeless, so cold.
The baby. Tess.
He wasn’t here. He wasn’t here to protect them.
The thought’s enough to end a man.
Gently, he cups her face, and her head lolls into his palm. “Baby, wake up.”
At his touch, his voice, she stirs. Her thick lashes flutter, a small moan escaping her parted lips, and Solomon nearly falls apart then and there.
Thank Christ. Thank God.
“Tessie, my Tessie,” he murmurs, dipping his head to press a kiss to her brow. His heart feels like it’s on its last beat. “Wake up, Tess. Baby, come back. Come back to me.”
Tessie.
My Tessie.
Whispers halo around her head. Strong hands cup her face. Callused thumbs sweep across her cheeks. A desperate, haggard voice that says, “Wake up, Tess. Baby, come back. Come back to me.”
And she does.
Her eyelids flutter open. Solomon’s worried face, his dark blue eyes stare down at her. “Thank God,” he rasps. He strokes a thumb over her cheekbone.
“Hi,” she whispers, still held in a dreamy state.
His exhale is ragged. “Hi.”
She blinks her heavy eyelids. “I took short breaths.”
“Yeah,” he says. His face is creased with relief and something else she can’t place.
He strokes her hair, and she resists the urge to purr like a kitten. His big fingers against her skin are cool. His touch steady and grounding, like an anchor pulling her back to the present.
“Yeah, you did.”
She squints at him, at the hard line of his jaw, the intensity of his deep blue eyes. She’s never seen his face like this. “You look. . .weird.” She tries to reach up, to touch that smile or frown on his lips, his dark beard. But instead, he captures her hand and holds it close to his pounding heart.
“I’m not the one lying on the ground right now.”
She smiles. “Noted.”
“How do you feel?”
She thinks on it, then gasps as it comes rushing back. “Oh my God. Bear.”
“Easy,” Solomon orders as she struggles to sit up. Quickly, he tucks a protective arm around her waist to keep her steady. Glancing down, she clutches her belly, aching to feel that little squirm inside. Immediately, hot tears fill her eyes. A fear, sharp and prickly, pokes at her.
She caught herself before she fell, rolled so she didn’t hit her stomach, but what if it’s worse? What if it wasn’t her breathing? What if something’s wrong?
She grips his shirt, clings to him. “Solomon, we have to make sure the baby’s okay.”
He blanches. Her fear echoed in his own eyes.
“Where’s that damn doctor?” her mountain man growls, whipping his head in one direction, then the other. When he sees the attendant, his gaze narrows. “We need medical attention immediately. My”—a beat, Solomon swallows, then—“My Tessie needs a doctor.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, she can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips. “My Tessie?”
He scowls, rips a hand through his hair. “Okay, this frustrating woman who scared the damn life out of me needs help. How’s that?”
The man above them nods. “Apologies for the delay, se?or. He should be here any moment.”
Solomon swears, pale and stone faced, and tucks her tighter against his chest.
“Solomon,” Tessie whispers, snagging his arm. A sudden thought coming to her. “If we go to the room, we can use the doppler.”
At her words, he’s already up and moving.
“Send the doctor to our room,” he orders. “I’m taking her back to rest.”
Then Tessie’s being lifted, picked up in Solomon’s strong arms. The world moves around her so fast she barely has time to grasp what’s happening. She stares up at his stern face, his strong, square jaw, as he storms past a pack of whispering women, out of the studio, and into the fresh air and sunlight, and Tessie feels like she’s falling.
She bites her lip, looping an arm around his neck, studying him through dark lashes. She covets Solomon’s serious gaze like a love letter. “You’re carrying me again.”
He grunts, his gruff voice stained with a tenderness she’s never heard from a man. “I’ll always carry you, Tessie,” he says, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head.
“Oh,” she whispers.
Solomon might as well be carrying a molten mess of woman, because she’s practically a puddle in his arms. She has no right to feel this cared for, but she does. This man is doing things to her no one has. Her emotions lit and wired.
With a soft sigh, she drops her head against his broad chest. Safe. She feels safe. She wants Solomon Wilder near her always.
Once they’re inside the room, he sets her on the bed gently. Props her up with pillows.
Without words, Solomon brings her the doppler and drops to the mattress beside her. Tessie reclines and slips the waistband of her yoga pants down to bare the swell of her belly.
“It’s my fault,” Tessie whispers, her eyes flooding as she sets up the machine. “I forgot my water. I wasn’t breathing right. . .”
God. Already, she’s fucking up, and Bear isn’t even out of her belly.
“Don’t,” Solomon says, his voice rough. “Don’t do that.”
With shaky hands, she runs the wand over the moon of her belly. She waits, her breath, her heart on standstill. Then a sound like a hundred galloping horses fills the room. A sound she’s familiar with. Strong. Steady.
Bear.
The air rushes from her lungs. She sags back against the pillow in relief as Solomon looks to her. “That’s his heartbeat.” Tessie closes her teary eyes. Panic slowly ebbs its way out of her veins and a wobbly breath escapes her. “He’s okay.”
“Thank God.” The desperate catch in Solomon’s voice has her heart flipping over in her chest. Reverently, he places a hand on her belly and glues his worried eyes to her face. “Now we’ll make sure you are.”
She battles a smile. “Sounds like you’re fussing, Solemn Man.”