As the end credits roll of an episode of Good Luck Charlie, I kiss Elise's forehead before I stand from her bed, my hand never leaving my bump, "Sleep well, sweetheart, I'll be upstairs if you need me."

"I know, thank you for watching TV with me, I think I can sleep now," she replies sleepily, "Good night, Iris; good night, Bailey."

"Good night, El," I shut off her light, and close her bedroom door once Bailey follows me out.

Getting the kids to bed is the first on my long list of jobs tonight; the sink full of dishes is next up on my agenda. Like any other day, Nathan is at work and I want him to come home to a clean house tonight. I'm lucky in the sense that my nesting instincts are kicking in, so I have the motivation to do so, and of course, we have a dishwasher to help.

Once the dishes are done and I've wiped down the kitchen surfaces, I find myself in the laundry room where I've spent a lot of my time recently, getting things washed for the twins' arrival. There's nothing left to wash of theirs now, I'm just doing a load of everyone's clothes from the last two days.

The feeling of the babies kicking and moving beneath the palm of my hand forces me to take a minute to breathe and relax, "I know, babies, I know you want mommy to lay down."

Bailey looks up at me doe-eyed, like he, as well, wants me to sit down.

"Not you too, Bailey boy," I rub the top of his head and he groans, leaning into my palm, "Okay, fine, let me finish this load and then I will sit down, deal?"

Speaking to something that can't speak back has become a regular thing for me with Bailey. He's a silent comfort I didn't realise I was needing my entire life.

There are no words to explain how much gratitude I hold for this dog and how he chose to stumble into our family because he's made it so complete. Nathan and I have the girls, we're expecting the twins soon, all we needed was a dog for our family.

The girls adore him, especially Elise; if she had her way, he'd be sleeping in her room tonight instead of helping me with laundry in here.

Once the washing is finally on, Bailey is happily trotting into the living room in front of me. He waits until I sit to join me, cuddling into my side, and I check my phone for the first time in over an hour.

The string of unknown notifications staring back at me has my heart dropping with fear and as soon as I unlock my phone to check, Charlotte is calling me.

"Iris?" Charlotte asks loud enough through her speaker, so I can hear her over the sound of her driving.

"Is everything okay?" I blurt out, sitting up straight on the edge of my seat.

"Try not to panic, but you need to make your way to the hospital now; Nathan's been in an accident."

My entire world crumbles around me from five simple words; any she tells me after doesn't register. My heart drops into the pit of my belly, a lump the size of my fist grows in my throat and my eyes blur with tears.

Only when Bailey begins to lick and nudge me with his wet nose do I realise I've lost control of my senses, and he snaps me back to the harsh reality.

How badly is he injured? What happened? Will he be okay?

Please be okay, Nathan.

Nausea greets me, pulling me back further to the real world, and when I look down at the phone, the timer on the call flickers to two minutes.

"I don't... Is he okay? I can't leave the girls, Char," I cry to her, tears flooding my cheeks.

"Laura is on her way over to you; she'll be with you any minute now," she assures me.

"Do you know what happened?" I ask, standing from the sofa to get ready.

"He got badly body-checked into the side of the rink, I looked away for a second during impact and when I turned around, he was laid flat on the ice. I don't know more, just which hospital they've taken him to," she tells me, and the details have a sob erupting from me, "Don't let yourself get upset, Iris; I'm sure he's more than okay; he's tough, it's not the worst hit he's received."

A laugh bubbles up through my sobs, "I hate that he plays this stupid sport, oh my God, I hate it."

I've only ever given him the utmost of my support of his career, but every time he leaves home to step onto that ice, I constantly fear I'll never see him again. This is his job, something I'll never intervene with as it's not my place, but there is no denying I hate the sport after this.

"Me too, sweetheart," she agrees, "I'm about five minutes from the hospital; I will keep you updated when I know more, but promise me that once you're in the car and are driving, you will not look at your phone?"

"I promise," I mean it. It will be difficult driving for over half an hour, not knowing what's happening, but I won't put myself and the twins at risk like that.

When Laura arrives, I welcome her into the house, and once she is comfortable on the sofa with Bailey, I waste no more time and make my way to the hospital.

Only when I'm out of the driveway do I realise I'm still wearing the grey sweatpants and Rangers hoodie of Nathan's that I had thrown on earlier; I didn't think to change before I left and can't go back now.

The thought of Nathan's health consumes my every thought on the thirty-minute to the hospital; has his state changed? Is he going to be okay?

Through glassy eyes, I pull into a spare parking space, but before I exit the car, I wipe the tears from my cheeks and take a deep breath. It feels like several hours have passed since Charlotte rang and told me the news of his incident, yet it's only been short of one.

With every step I take on my walk across the parking lot, my keys in my hoodie pocket jingle, and I pull out my phone to check any recent messages.

Nothing from Nathan as expected, but there is one from Charlotte, telling me to head to the emergency department when I get here. Thankfully I was already heading in that direction.

Once the automatic double doors open, I make a beeline towards the front desk and my anxiety reappears with every doubt from before coming with it.

"Next please," the older woman behind the desk calls, meaning me and I walk up.

"I need to know where Nathan Fields is," I rush out the words.

"Doesn't everyone?" she retorts and only now do I look around the waiting room to see fans crowding every seat, waiting to hear any news.

"No, I'm not like them, please, I need to see him," I am begging now; I never even thought about the security they, of course, have for him.

"Miss, you are wearing the team's hoodie, I wasn't born yesterday; I won't let you through there and if you don't step away from this desk, you leave me no option but to call security."

I knew I should have changed.

She is only doing her job, but the anger rising through my body has me snapping at her, "Look, Miss, to you I may look like a fan, but I couldn't give a shit for this sport after where it's put my boyfriend tonight! I am carrying his babies, so you better tell me where the hell he is because, for all I know, our kids may not have a dad anymore! Just please let me see him."

That may have made my argument worse, and when she reaches for the phone, it solidifies it.

"Fine, I'm going," I lie, holding my hands up in surrender.

As soon as I turn around everyone is staring in my direction and I realise what I've just done. I broke Nathan and I's bubble from one snap judgment.

The doors leading to the emergency department open from behind me and when I turn, I let out a large sigh of relief because there stands Charlotte and she instantly walks over to me.

This confirms everything I said was true to the women behind the desk and the people in the waiting room, but I don't make any remark, I simply wrap my arms around Nathan's mother.

"How is he? Is he okay?" I instantly ask.

"You'll be able to see for yourself, Iris," she pulls back, but her answer gives me no answer at all.

"Now?" I'm so desperate.

"Of course, just follow me," she links her arm in mine.

The emergency department envelopes us in its chaos; the sounds of crying patients, the crashing of carts and doctors rushing off their feet fill me with anxiety and dread. There are not many things I hate in this world, but hospitals will always be one of them.

We pass bed after bed, curtain after curtain until finally, Charlotte stops at a door at the very end of the row. The blinds are drawn, and there is no telling of his state, but when she pushes the door open, my heart crumbles at the sight of him, lying in the bed, a monitor beeping to the rhythm of his heart.

He's alive, at least.

~~~~~

A/N

lollllll. 

at least you know he's alive!