Chapter 4 - The Kick
I ignored my brother completely.
I leaned down until my lips were inches from her ear.
"Claire," I whispered, my tears finally breaking free, falling onto her cheek. "Claire, I’m right here. I came home."
I touched her pale face again, feeling the soft texture of her skin.
Then, driven by a sudden, primal instinct I couldn't explain, I placed my bare palm flat against her swollen stomach.
Something moved beneath my hand.
I froze. Every muscle in my body locked up.
A second movement came—a firm, distinct, unmistakable thrust against my palm.
A kick.
My heart stopped beating in my chest.
The baby was alive inside her.
I immediately pressed my index and middle fingers hard against Claire's carotid artery.
Ten seconds of pure silence passed.
Then—
A faint, thready pulse tapped against my fingertips.
Weak.
Extremely slow.
But undeniable.
"She’s alive!" I screamed, pulling my head up.
My mother's face instantly drained of all color, turning a sickly, ghostly gray.
Nathan stopped mid-sip, his whiskey glass halting halfway to his mouth.
Neither of them looked relieved. Neither of them gasped in joy.
They looked utterly, terrifyingly caught.
May you like
I slowly turned toward the two of them, my vision swimming with red fury.
"You knew," I rasped, the realization tearing through my soul. "You knew she wasn't dead."
