Because of the Accident (Book 1)

Chapter 5

I wake up with a start, blinking rapidly as the world slowly comes back into focus. I didn't even realize I had fallen asleep on the short ride here. My heart pounds, each beat thudding in my ears as my vision clears, and I realize that I'm staring directly into Lia's eyes. Her face is only inches away from mine, her brows drawn tight in concern.

"Woah!" I shout, jerking back in the car seat, my body reacting on instinct as I shove her away, my hands trembling slightly. I feel the brush of my fingertips against her shoulder, light but enough to push her back.

"What are you doing?" My voice comes out more accusatory than I intended, but I can't help it—the sudden invasion of personal space, the intimacy of her being so close while I was vulnerable, sets me on edge.

Lia's eyes widen for a second, then narrow slightly as she scoots back, giving me space, though the worry never leaves her expression. "There was something in your eye..." she says softly, her voice trailing off as if she's unsure how to explain. "I have this weird OCD thing where I can't leave it alone, you know? It was just a speck of something, I swear." She pauses and shakes her head, almost laughing awkwardly at her own explanation. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

I rub my face with both hands, the pressure against my eyelids grounding me. I take a deep breath, the scent of old car upholstery and lingering coffee mixing in the air, reminding me of where I am. Hospital parking lot. Lia's car. The weight of reality crashes down on me as I realize why we're here. The baby. My baby. A child I barely know exists, a life I've barely had time to process, and yet, here it is—here I am, standing on the precipice of fatherhood, terrified.

I lean back, letting my head fall against the headrest with a dull thud that echoes in the car's quiet interior. "What am I supposed to do?" The words escape my lips in a fragile whisper, almost as if saying them out loud would somehow lessen the impossible weight pressing down on my chest. But it doesn't. I feel the pressure intensify, crushing in from all sides.

I glance over at Lia, her face softening as she watches me. Her eyes, filled with compassion, flicker briefly with uncertainty, as if she's trying to find the right words. But what could she say? How could she know? She's never been in this situation before either. Neither of us knows how to navigate this storm.

Lia clears her throat gently, then offers, "Do you want me to go with you?" Her voice is quiet, careful, like she's treading on thin ice. She knows it's a delicate moment, and I appreciate her hesitation. It shows she cares, even though this is not her mess to clean up.

I hesitate, my mind caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. Should I say yes? Should I drag her into this? She's already done more for me than anyone else has, and yet I don't want to pile more onto her shoulders. "It's fine," I say, attempting a weak smile, though it feels forced. "I don't want to put pressure on you when it's not your shit you're sitting in."

Lia arches an eyebrow, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I'm going with you. Think of it as moral support," she says with more conviction than I feel. Her smile softens, her gaze steady on me, and for a second, I feel the faintest flicker of reassurance.

I mouth the words "thank you," though they don't seem like enough. A wave of relief washes over me, but it's still mixed with the overwhelming tide of fear and uncertainty I've been carrying for days, weeks—hell, maybe even longer. My mind is a mess, and yet her presence is like an anchor, keeping me from completely floating away.

"I'm really glad I met you," Lia says after a few moments of silence. She mirrors my posture, leaning her head back against the seat, her hands resting loosely in her lap. There's something different in her tone now—something softer, more vulnerable. It catches me off guard.