Oreos||BWWM

Chapter 21

October 27, 2014 (Reagan is 18 weeks, and Alana is 17 weeks and 6 days)

Dedicated to @xkaylaax for figuring out the sex of the baby, smart girl!

Ultrasound is on the side. ♡

Reagan woke up, stretching, looking to her side where Nathaniel laid. "Morning, baby," she spoke sleepily, rubbing her eyes. She turned completely, stunned to meet Nathaniel's sickly pale body laying lifeless beside her.

She panicked, standing up on her knees quickly, feeling on his bare chest that was alarmingly cold. "Oh my God," she shrieked, cries of hysteria filled the room. Reagan felt around for a pulse on his chest, his hand, the side of his neck, none. "Oh my God," she repeated in a whisper.

Over and over again, Reagan shook his body, her tears occasionally landing on his toned chest. Every once in a while, she'd mumble prayers to her self, hoping this was all just an awful nightmare.

"Wake up," Reagan mumbled, lightly slapping his cheek. He didn't even so much as flinch or roll over. "Wake up, Nate," she slapped him again, this time, harder, and the only similarity was his reaction.

Nothing.

She choked on a sob, beating down on his chest, "God damn it, Nathan, wake up," she repeated, her fist hitting harder each time.

And, that's when she woke up in a cold sweat, screaming at the top of her lungs. Reagan looked to her side, hoping to see Nathaniel laying beside her, alive and well.

But, he wasn't there.

Hopping out of the bed, one hand wrapped protectively over her stomach, she ran out of the bedroom as quickly as she could. "Nathan," she yelled, the stream of tears rolled down her face without a care in the world.

Reagan looked frantically around the corridor, so distracted by her surroundings that she bumped into a warm, hard body.

He reached out, grabbing ahold of her shoulders, "it's okay, baby girl," Nathaniel gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze, concern and worry etched over his features, seeping through his words. "Tell me what's wrong," he soothed, wiping off her stray tears with the pad of his thumb.

She sniffled, pulling him into her embrace, her head buried in his bare chest. "Please," Reagan pleaded, "don't you ever leave me," it came out muffled, but he heard it nevertheless.

Nathaniel picked her up, carrying her into the guest room, where he'd been sleeping for the past two weeks, while she snuggled into him, basking in the warmth of his body heat.

Laying her on the bed gently, Nathaniel crawled in beside her, moving away at a respectable distance. But, all Reagan did was roll over, scooting into his side. He definitely didn't protest, he would willingly take whatever she would give him at this point.

He patiently waited, giving her the time she needed to form her thoughts into words. "You," Reagan started, wiping away the fresh new batch of hot, salty tears that fell down her face. "You had no pulse, I felt for it, and nothing, not even a little thump".

She visibly started shaking as she recalled the events, Nathaniel pulled her closer, rubbing her back in a calming manner. "I- you," she stuttered, "you wouldn't wake up, I was so scared, I swear, you were as pale as a jar of mayonnaise".

He mentally laughed at her comparison, yet the worry was still there, overshadowing his small laughing session. Nathaniel gulped, processing what she'd told him, "I was-"

She cut him off with a hesitant nod, "please, never say that word," she begged. Her mind ran wild with the vivid images bombarding her thoughts. It just seemed so, "real," she breathed out, mindlessly trailing her finger up and down his torso.