Forbidden love

Chapter 9: B26

As I wake, a bright light is being shone into my eyes as the paramedics tug on the straps holding me to the stretcher. As they roll me onto the hospital bed, all the memories come flooding back of what just happened. I lift a hand to my forehead and it's soaked in blood as the nurse takes it away.
"Where's...Ezra" I struggle to get my words out, my throat feels like I've swallowed a knife and at least ten times bigger than usual and my head feels light.
"Shh, Ezra's okay, he's in the room down the hall. You took nearly the full impact of the hit. You're lucky, really lucky." The nurse explains to me, wrapping bandages around my arms and legs and wiping up the excess blood. "Okay, we're going to need you to bear with us as we just wrap this one around your head, do you think you can do that?"

I mumble something that was probably yes, because she tilts my head forward and straps it up. I feel my eyelids drooping and the room becomes fuzzy, then my ears ring as I black out.

***

I wake up to Ezra by my bedside, holding my hand; his head is rested back on the chair, his expression neutral in sleep. I squeeze his hand for reassurance when I wake as I don't know where I am for a second or two and, in an instant, he wakes.
"Aria..." A small smile spreads across his face. He realises my panic and tries to comfort me straightaway. "You're okay, you're okay." He scoots closer to me and kisses my forehead.
"Ezra...the...baby?" I'm struggling to talk and I'm having to swallow in between each word so they're audible.
"Aria, they did an ultrasound...but um, I asked them not to tell me the results before you woke up." He takes a deep breath and I see a solitary tear roll down his cheeks.
"Ezra, they'll...they'll be able to do something." I say.
He shakes his head, "They said they'd be back with the results soon, but if the baby didn't make it there's--there's nothing they can do Aria." His shoulders shake as his head falls into his free hand, and he starts to cry. "This is all my fault. Aria this is all my fault."
"Hey...don't talk like that...okay? This isn't your fault!" I'm straining my voice now, trying to put some sense into him, but I'm crying now as well. I wipe my eyes and notice the bandages on my legs as I move the sheets off of me. "Ezra? What happened to my...to my legs?"
"The car, your side got almost full impact from the hit, they nearly got trapped and they had glass in them." He looks down as if he's ashamed, even though he isn't to blame for this. "The man in the other car, he's been arrested. He was drink-driving and speeding."
"I thought for a second it was...never mind." I was thinking about A but I didn't say anything to add to Ezra's worries. "How are you...um, holding up?" I ask, afraid of what he might tell me.
"My head had to be stitched from hitting the window and I have bruises but, apart from that, I'm okay." He sniffs, looking at me and smiling.
"All I needed to know when I woke was that you were okay."
"I was more worried about you." He replies.
I smile, "When can I be out of here?" I groan.
"They said it could be anything up to a week." I press my eyes shut and terror runs through me as the doctor enters our room with the results from the ultrasound.
He was probably in his mid-forties but had a full head of grey hair, a pen rested behind his ear and his arm cradling a clipboard packed with notes and documents. He looked at us solemnly, which could only mean one thing. He breathes out before telling us what's happening.
"Miss Montgomery and Mr Fitz?" Ezra takes my hand and nods, too choked up to talk.
"What's--what's happening?" Ezra asks.
"We're so sorry, but there's no heartbeat... " He looks at me and Ezra. "There was nothing we could do."
"No...please tell me there's been some kind of mistake?" I beg.
"I'm sorry, there's no mistake. I'll leave you two to some privacy."
"Ezra..." My face crumples, tears flow down my cheeks in masses and he climbs onto the hospital bed; I hear him cry but he's more focused on wrapping his arms around me, stroking his fingers through my hair and kissing my head. He's careful not to hurt me and it's soothing to be in his embrace once again.

A week later.

"Ready?" Ezra asks, as he pushes me out of the doors in my wheelchair.
"More than ready." I sigh. I'm tired of the lumpy, discoloured hospital food and the sickly smell of medicine and antiseptic. "How does it look?"
"How does what look?" He answers.
"The Brew, how is it?" I ask.
"Just wait and see." He laughs.
In between visits he's been going back and forth from his parent's house and to The Brew, trying to decorate it up for when I got out of the hospital. He tells me that he's moved our stuff in upstairs but the café is still being renovated.
We reach the car and I manage to clamber into the front seat with his support. The cuts and gashes on my legs are slowly healing but are still painful to put pressure on because of the stitches and bruising. I sit tightly all through the car journey, scared of what might happen.
The Brew is in the town square but we park in the small car park around the back, along with three other cars. He pushes me in through the door around the back which leads onto the ground floor.
In the cafe there are a lot of plastic sheets and flat pack furniture still encased in their boxes. I spot a black couch in the corner and Ezra helps me to sit on it so he can take my wheelchair upstairs. He returns with a small smile on his face and scoops me up in his arms, my arms around him. I rest my head on his shoulder and can smell the cologne I bought him on his neck. I try not to cry, not now.
I'm in awe as I see the apartment and sit back down. It's exactly how I imagined it. Photos of us dotted around in frames, our favourite movies and CDs stacked on the rack next to the TV, shelves are lining a wall and are filled with books, furniture and decor from Ezra's other apartment helped it to have the homely feel I always loved about his old place. The wicker chair from his old apartment and my favourite blanket that smells just like him and helped me numerously when I was too anxious to sleep, were next to the window, looking out into Rosewood. It was perfect. It was so utterly perfect.
"So..?" He asked turning to me, his arms outstretched and smiling again. He was so proud of what he'd done that I couldn't have said a bad word about it even if I'd have tried.
"It's perfect Ezra, I love it!"
"Really?" He asked with relief. "I mean, I wouldn't have kept half this stuff from my old place but I know you liked it and I just wanted it to be perfect for you."
"Yes, I really love it." I took his hand and pulled him close to me so I could kiss him.
"I kinda missed having our own place now we're here." He said, leaning on the back of my wheelchair. "The café should be open within a few weeks as well."
"Do you have any idea how happy I am right now?"
During the time I was in hospital, me and Ezra went through losing the baby and not being able to find a way to deal with it just yet, which resulted in me crying for hours upon end everyday and night.
I was in discomfort with my legs but it wasn't as severe as it could've been so I was constantly told by nurses how "insanely lucky" I was; I was given painkillers and a wheelchair, which hopefully I'll be out of next week. Ezra had endless rounds of medication and routines to go through with himself and me. But above all that, he still made me the happiest person alive. 
"I think I do." He said leaning into my neck and kissing it and my shoulder.
"I love you."
"I love you too." He replies. He walks off for a second into our bedroom before returning to me with a wrapped gift box.
"What's this?" I ask confused.
"I got you something." He hands me the small box and as I take the lid off, my heart started to beat really fast. A locket is inside with the words B26. Happiness. Engraved into it.
"Ezra, this is beautiful." He takes the necklace from my hands, gently fixes it around my neck.
"Happy Birthday." He whispers in my ear.
"Ezra it's not while tomorrow, you really didn't have to do this." I protest.
"I know but I want it all to be special." He smiles "I love you."
"I love you too." I steal another kiss before asking him to show me the kitchen.
"Ezra this place is just beaut--" I'm too flattered to finish my sentence. There's a wooden table with two chairs and set for dinner. In the middle of the table are a small bunch of red roses and two candles, which he proceeds to light. I take a seat at one of the chairs and he pours me something to drink. He moves the roses to the kitchen side as he plates dinner up.
"This is nice after..." I trail off, I didn't want to start talking about the baby then ruin the night for Ezra because of my bawling. "Sorry." I close my eyes and look down as he reaches for my hand across the table.
"Aria? Talk to me?"
I shake my head and smile, telling him it's nothing and look into his sea-green eyes, the ones you could drown in and feel completely lost in.
I helped him clear up after dinner and he lets me choose a movie as we curl up on the sofa cocooned in his blanket. I feel my eyelids closing half way through the film and I feel drowsy so Ezra carries me to our bedroom. He goes to turn the movie off and I curl up, pretending I'm not awake, but I can feel the anxiety rising in my throat like a lump and before I know it I've emptied all the contents of my stomach onto the bed sheets.
"Ezra!" I'm crying, panicking. My breathing gets heavier as I hear his rushed footsteps echo through the apartment into the bedroom.
"Oh my god, Aria, are you okay? Were you sick again?"
I nod, tears overflowing from my eyes. "I don't know how much longer I can cope with this." I sob.
"Aria, we need to take you to see someone okay?"
"I'm sorry, Ezra I'm sorry."
"Aria, you have nothing to be sorry about. The anxiety isn't your fault."
"Ezra, you don't deserve this." I say as my breathing gets deeper.
"Aria, don't talk like that, come on. Let's get you out of these clothes and then we'll change the sheets okay?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." He kisses my forehead and helps me hobble to the bathroom. "It's only because of A you know? And losing the...baby."
I acknowledge what he said with a murmur because he's right, dealing with A was one thing but losing the baby tipped me over the edge; he passes me clean pyjamas into the bathroom and I carefully slip them on over my bandages and stitches. Before I know what I'm saying I let myself speak, "Ezra?"
"You okay?" He answers immediately.
"I'll go see someone. I need this to be over."