Third Degree

chapter twenty-six.

Thalia's POV

Spring break of 2019 is officially a bust. Nate and I had planned to have Lisa and Sean babysit while we take a trip to Las Vegas and have some fun. But guess who decided to come home? Grayson.

And it would've been fine, because Ethan was willing to house and babysit for the 5 day trip, but today, Nate and I find out exactly why none of that is doable anyway.

I'm pregnant. 

We can't go to Las Vegas and drink until we're sick because I am carrying Nate's child and am suffering a considerable amount of morning sickness. As unexpected and crazy as it is, Nate and I are happy. Or at least that is what we're telling each other. I'm happy about another baby, but I really wanted to go to Vegas.

Nate worked extra to pay for this trip and he also took time off of work for this, and we won't even be able to do it. 

"We could just do some cool little family stuff instead, it isn't a big deal." Nate tries to give me a reassuring smile, it's so fake that it looks like a grimace to me.

"Babe, let me just sulk for like a day. We planned this whole elaborate, wonderful trip since New Years, over three and a half months ago!" I sigh, "Just for it to get ruined. This is terrible timing."  mutter and rub my eyes before looking back at Nate. His expression is unreadable for a solid three seconds before it turns disappointed and angry.

"It may be terrible timing, but this isn't totally ruined, Lia!" He sighs, looking at the hand I have resting on my stomach. "Yes, it sucks that our plans can't be put into action, but the baby didn't do shit, so stop blaming it." He stands up and mumbles as he grabs his keys and jacket.

"Sorry that it isn't fucking Grayson's kid again."

My eyes widen at his explosion. What just happened and where did that come from?

It took me three days to adjust to the whole being pregnant thing again, and I was already over it. I had twice as much nausea than when I was pregnant with Theo. Nate was still mad and would talk about having a bad feeling before ignoring me and spending most of his time with Theo or doing errands. He was looking for so many excuses to do something other than talk to me that he was wasting time on menial things. 

He'd look into the fridge and notice a lack of eggs and go buy them. Then he'd come back and notice that we had no napkins and go back to the store. Just to buy napkins at the same store he had just been in.

One night, I finally decided I'd talk to him in the morning and apologize for 'blaming the baby' for the whole Vegas thing.

It was a Saturday night, and he was dead asleep when I woke up. Immediately, I felt sick as ever, almost like when I had Theo, but worse. My back and stomach hurt so bad, it was bringing tears to my eyes.

Something's wrong. I could feel it in my gut.

I start to shake Nate awake and he grumbles. "Leave me alone, I'm not h-"

"Something's w-wrong..." I sniffle and hold my abdomen tenderly.

Two phone calls, three hours and a car ride later, I get to the hospital. The doctor takes me in and he has a solemn look, as if he already knows what's going on. He reviews my symptoms with me as Nate's leg bounces up and down, shaking his chair and the little table beside him.

Compared to the three hours it took to get to this point, the next twenty minutes were nothing. The only difference was the pain. In the first three hours, I was in physical pain. The next twenty minutes, it was mental and emotional.

Four words tore my heart out of my chest, while the same four words seemed to shatter Nate's entire being.

"I'm sorry, you've miscarried."

Silence. 

Now, I can only dream of flames consuming my body, giving me a sort of physical pain, instead of an emotional one. How I wished for the physical threshold of a burn so deep that I'd forget my emotional pain.

I turn to Nate and his face is an ever-changing screen of emotions. He isn't looking at me at first, but when he does, I wish he hadn't.

The screen has settled on one image.

Blame.

And I can't tell who it's aimed at.