Chapter 4

Whitney awoke to a stabbing pain.

Blinking open her eyes, she found herself in a hospital room. A slight turn of her head revealed Colton at her bedside, dark shadows under his eyes.

"Whitney, you're awake," he said, leaning forward, his voice heavy with relief.

"Are you hurting anywhere?"

Her throat was parched, and she could not speak.

The last thing she remembered seeing was Colton's back as he carried Janice away and the thunderous approach of the horses.

"Janice got hurt," Colton blurted out, urgency lacing his words.

"She's got a bleeding disorder, and the hospital's out of blood..."

Whitney's heart sank.

Colton gripped her hand. "You're the only match. Whitney, can you give some blood to her?"

The request was utterly ludicrous.

Whitney jerked her hand back, the sudden movement aggravating the wound in her side and making her wince sharply.

He had just stood by as she was knocked down, offering no explanation, and then, he expected her to go to Janice's aid, battered and bruised.

"I won't do it," she rasped, each word slicing through her like a blade.

Colton's brow was creased with worry. "Just hang in there for the baby's sake, okay? Once the baby's here, it'll all be over."

An icy shiver ran down Whitney's spine. She looked into Colton's eyes, hoping to find a flicker of remorse or tenderness, but those eyes she had adored for two decades held nothing but a frantic push.

"Mr. Jones, Ms. Moore isn't doing well..." the nurse whispered from the doorway.

Colton shot up and nearly dragged Whitney to her feet. "Please, Whitney. I'm begging you."

Whitney was escorted to the phlebotomy room. As the needle slid into her vein, the pain was so intense it took her breath away.

The nurse was puzzled. "Is it really that painful? I was as gentle as I could be."

Whitney just shook her head, her tears falling freely. She used to dread needles, and Colton would always be there to cover her eyes and soothe her gently.

"Hang in there, Whitney, it'll be over in no time," he used to say.

However, Colton stood outside as her blood was drawn, impatiently checking his watch, not even sparing her a glance.

With 400ml of blood gone, Whitney's world began to spin. The nurse had her sit and rest, but Whitney's gaze followed Colton as he hurried back to Janice's room without a backward glance. She followed unsteadily and paused at the half-open door.

Janice lay on the bed, her complexion ghostly, her wrist swathed in thick bandages. Colton was at her side, holding her hand with a tenderness that seemed to overflow from his eyes.

"Don't worry, it's all over now," he soothed in a low voice. "The kid's doing great too."

Whitney's eyes landed on Janice's wrist, and then she froze.

There it was, the silver cross bracelet she knew too well.

She had picked it out herself three years ago in an old church, while she prayed for him.

Colton had put it on with such care, vowing, "I'll never take this off, not in my lifetime."

However, that same bracelet was clasped around another woman's wrist.

He had given away the bracelet she had bought as a symbol of their blessed future to Janice.

A sharp pain stabbed through Whitney's heart, and she could not stand to look any longer. She spun around and stormed out.

Back in her hospital room, she curled up on the bed, her tears drenching the pillow. She discovered the hard truth that a shattered heart could physically ache, making it hard to even breathe.

The nurse came by for her rounds.

"Mrs. Jones, could you finish up your medical history report?" the nurse asked, handing her the form.

Whitney filled it out on autopilot, her pen hesitating just a moment at 'marital status' before she pressed down hard and wrote 'single'.

"Mrs. Jones, is there a mistake here?" the nurse questioned, puzzled.

"You've put down 'single' when you're married to Mr. Jones, aren't you?"

"I'm not," Whitney replied, her voice steady.

"He won't be my husband much longer."

"Whitney, what did you say?"

The door to the room burst open, and there stood Colton, disbelief etched across his face.