64
Peter
My guts are in a knot as I watch Goldberg examine Sara. The short, balding man is a trauma surgeon by training, but he seems to know what he’s doing—and any doctor is better than none.
Of course, Sara is a doctor herself, but she can’t exactly perform her own gynecological exam.
“Well, from what I can see, you and the baby are perfectly fine,” he announces when he’s done, and I blow out a relieved breath.
Next step: get Sara to a therapist to deal with those terrifying flashbacks.
Spikes of ice still grip my chest when I think about how her face had turned white and blank, as if all life had left her body. And when the hyperventilating and the screaming started… f**k, I’d give anything to never see her in that state again. I know what PTSD is—I’ve seen it in many soldiers—an
