Beneath Your Beautiful

Coach Morgan and Mrs. Coach walk into the waiting room and I feel myself crack a little inside when I see their forlorn expressions. Mrs. Coach stifles a sob when she sees me. I do nothing to stop the tears that leak from my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. I sniff. Coach Morgan is the first to hug me and when he whispers a ‘thank you’ into my ear, I let go. The tears flow freely and I shake my head in a poor attempt to rid my mind of how Huntley looked when I walked into her apartment. My world crashed when her eyes fluttered closed. I can’t imagine losing her and for a few short seconds, I worried that she would somehow be gone.

“Are you ok?” Mrs. Coach asks as we take a seat. She wraps her tiny hands around mine and her eyes probe my face. She’ll know if I’m lying.

“No,” I choke out. “They won’t let us see her yet. I’m going crazy.”

“She’s going to be fine,” Mrs. Coach assures me. I think she’s trying to convince herself as much as she is me. Her lip quivers and she tries to keep it together.

“Morgan?” The doctors’ voice breaks through the melancholy in the room and our heads all snap up.

“Yes. Is she ok? Can I see her?” I jump up from my chair and walk to where the doctor is standing, followed by Coach Morgan and his wife.

“Are you her family?”

“She’s my girlfriend. This is her aunt and uncle,” I explain in a rush. He better give me some information about Huntley before I punch his face.

The doctor sighs, looking down at the clipboard in his hands. “Miss Morgan is sedated now. She suffered some severe trauma to her ribs but we’ve attached a fetal monitor to her stomach to make sure –“

“Why would she need a fetal monitor?”

“Miss Morgan is twelve weeks pregnant. We attached the fetal monitor to make sure the baby’s heartbeat stays strong. She’s very lucky though. After the hit she took to the ribs, the baby should’ve died.”

A collective gasp gathers around the room and I imagine that everyone’s face looks as shocked as mine. My knees threaten to buckle under me and I lean against the wall to stop myself from falling to the ground.

“I’m guessing you didn’t know?” the doctor enquires. I shake my head, unable to form words and force them out of my throat.

My beautiful girl is pregnant. With a baby. My baby.

“Can I see her?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You can see her in about half an hour,” the doctor replies. “We are busy getting her settled into a room now. I will come get you when she’s cleared for visitors.”

The doctor leaves and I wait for the million and one questions to be thrown in my direction. But they don’t come. I look into the shocked faces of the people around me and try to calm my crazy, sprinting heart. I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor. Speechless. I don’t know what to say or what to think or even what to do. I feel so completely overwhelmed. Coach Morgan and his wife take a seat, not saying anything to me. I almost expected Coach Morgan to punch me in the face.

She’s pregnant? Why didn’t she tell me? Did she think I would leave her?

I look up at Demi, fearing that she knew about this the whole time and didn’t tell me. Would I have a right to be upset with her if she knew and didn’t tell me? She’s one of my oldest friends, and I’d like to believe that if she knew, she would tell me. Unless Huntley asked her not to. But why would she do that? I grunt in frustration, wishing that my wayward thoughts would shut the hell up and leave my head.

“Did you know?” I look at Demi, noting that she doesn’t look at all surprised. She stands and walks over to where I’m leaning against the wall, taking a seat next to me.

“I suspected it,” she pauses, searching my eyes for God knows what. She must find it because it’s not long before she continues. “That weekend you and Brody came home from an away game and Huntley was sick, she took a pregnancy test the day before you came home. It came back negative, but for whatever reason, I didn’t believe it. The signs have been staring at us in the face.”

I frown quizzically. “What signs?”

“Seriously Gray?” Demi huffs out an exasperated sigh and rolls her eyes, mumbling something about how inattentive men are under her breath. “She’s been super emotional lately, crying for almost everything, and she’s been eating enough for two people. And I know for a fact she’s missed her period because we were on the same cycle.”

How could I have missed all that? Probably because I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit to notice much of anything else. The word ‘selfish’ bounces around my head.

The doctor walks back in and I jump up so quickly that I almost face plant into the table.

“Miss Morgan is sleeping,” the doctor tells us, “But you are more than welcome to go see her for a short while. She’ll definitely be able to hear you if you talk to her. She’s in room 603, just down the hall.”

The doctor smiles kindly at us and then disappears again. I look at Coach Morgan, “Do you want to go first?”

“You go,” Mrs. Coach replies, a small smile playing on her lips. Coach Morgan looks at me, his face conveying everything he’s not saying. He’ll be having a pretty stern discussion with me. But that can wait. I need to see my beautiful girl first.

I leave the waiting room, a swarm of conflicting feelings exploding in my stomach. Relief. Fear. Guilt. Love. Huntley’s room isn’t far and as I stand in front of her door, I hesitate. My nerves prickle.

I open the door and spot the nurse taking down her vitals. I hear two machines beeping, but it’s the sound of the second machine beeping that both pulls me closer and keeps my feet glued to the floor.

“You can come in,” the young nurse says. She makes a few more notes and then leaves, shutting the door behind her. I walk closer, taking a seat next to the bed. I suck in a breath as the dim light above the bed illuminates her features and shows the bruises that have started forming on her face. She shifts, whimpering in her sleep, but doesn’t wake up. The thin blanket slips further down her waist and I see the fetal monitor through her hospital gown. The monitor beeps, thumpthump thumpthump thumpthump. My eyes are glued to the screen, even though the numbers and symbols make absolutely no sense. All that matters is that is that little heartbeat is strong, and that it belongs to the little life growing inside Huntley.

My throat tightens and I struggle to control my emotions, wiping away the few stray tears that leak from my eyes. I take Huntley’s hand in mine, lacing our fingers together and soaking up the feel of her skin. I don’t know how long I sit there, staring at her sleeping form, listening to the steady beep of her heartbeat mixed with that of our child. I lose myself, allowing time to slip away from me.

I was so lost before Huntley stumbled into my dark world, wearing that white sundress and those damn red cowboy boots. Her light shattered the walls around my heart and showed me how to live again. I’m not me without her. It’s that simple.

Huntleys’ hand moves and my head whips up. She rolls on to her side. Our eyes crash and collide and there’s so much I need to say to her. But the words lodge themselves somewhere between my ribs and my throat.

“Grayson?” her voice is scratchy and hoarse and I hate it. It can only be like that if she’s been screaming.