Maxwell's POV
I sat in the hallway outside Olivia's room, my back against the wall, my head in my hands, and tried to think.
Tried to breathe.
Tried to figure out how the hell I was going to fix this.
But every thought led back to the same devastating conclusion: Olivia was going to abort our baby, and there was nothing I could do to stop her.
My chest felt like it was caving in. My hands were shaking. The fluorescent hospital lights buzzed overhead, a constant reminder that time was passing, that I was running out of chances, that everything was slipping through my fingers like sand.
She couldn't do this. She couldn't take away the only part of us that would remain, the only proof that what we'd shared - even in its twisted, broken way - had been real.
I needed air. I needed to think. I needed to stop feeling like the walls were closing in.
I pushed myself to my feet and went to find the nurse who'd been hovering around me all evening.
