Preg-Not

16

"So what I'm trying to say is that survivor's guilt is commonly found in patients with PTSD, especially soldiers that came home from war. It's feeling guilty that you made it out of an awful situation, while people you look up to didn't make it. I think I've heard enough to say you're experiencing this, Raelynn. Your father was killed in cold blood, although he was there for you every step of the way. You wanted to be the one who got shot that day, not him. We will work on making you accept that these feelings are irrational."

Raelynn nodded, hearing the words and understanding why the feelings were toxic. She wished that hearing the explanation would magically fix her, but it wasn't that easy. She still had work to do.

She wrapped the conversation up with Dr. Mitchell, letting the kind woman get a look at her growing belly.

"Take it easy, okay? No stress."

"I will. Thank you."

She offered her goodbyes and left the office, passing a handsome guy on her way out. They blinked, taking each other in, before going their own way. Raelynn was uneffected by the encounter. Most of her organs were off the market– her brain, her heart, her uterus. They were all owned by a scowling Russian.

She took the train home and thought about work. The team had been working on an overhaul to appeal to the Chinese market. Raelynn had a few ideas of her own, but she knew they weren't wanted.

"Tiffany?" she called out when she made it to the apartment.

"Seriously, Rae. Why do you still call out when you come home, as if the thief is going to reply?"

"No one is going to break in here. Your laundry smells bad enough to ward off even the roaches."

Tiffany chuckled. "If a thief broke in, I can picture your round little self running out, clutching your heavy ass belly."

"The boys and I aren't wimps. We would beat that bastard. No one's stealing our ice cream."

"Right, right. Come here and help me with this."

Raelynn entered her bedroom and paused. Tiffany was on her knees, tightening the screw on what looked like a crib.

"Hold it up here and... oh, come on. Don't start with the waterworks."

Raelynn bawled. The therapy along with Tiffany's sweetness had her hormones melting.

Tiffany dropped her screwdriver and went to rub her back. "There, there. Jesus. You're giving the Hudson River a run for its money."

Raelynn clung to her until she was a hiccupping mess. They finished the crib, did laundry, and gossiped about work. Raelynn never admitted her distressing encounter with Maksim to avoid worrying her. Knowing Tiffany, she would scream down the building.

She went to bed early, not feeling too well. The night flew by, and in the morning, she felt bloated. She put on two scarves that day, a little paranoid that she was showing too much.

She was running late, so she threw some hellos as she scurried to her floor. She fought the urge to grab her belly to protect its precious contents, knowing that she had too many eyes and cameras on her.

"Raelynn."

"H-hey," she panted. "Good morning."

"Could you move these boxes to the elevator and bring them to the lobby?"

She looked at the boxes uncertainly. They looked heavy. She wasn't a lazy person, but as much as she wanted to help, she was in no condition to be lifting boxes. She was already carrying enough.

"I can't," she cringed. "Sorry."

Derick's face darkened. "Right. Sure, I just figured you'd benefit from the exercise." His heated gaze scanned her, burning her with his cruelty.