She could hear the panic beneath Gretchen’s harsh tone. Jax brushed away the accusation and focused on Gretchen. “I promise you I won’t.”

Gretchen stared at her for a silent, still moment. “I’ve been telling you, and you just won’t believe me. I’ve lived this before.”

Jax reminded herself of the studies Dr. Melendez found. “Your brain is wacky and probably came up with a believable story while you were in the coma. Yeah, there’s been some coincidences, but that doesn’t mean everything’s going to play out the same.”

“It will. I know it will. There’s small differences, but almost everything is exactly the same.”

She wanted to believe Gretchen and figure out a way to make her feel better, but how was she supposed to handle something like this? “Are you sure you don’t want me to call the doctor?”

“I’m sure,” Gretchen said, deflated.

She didn’t want to let Gretchen down, so Jax played along in the hopes of helping her heal. “What happens next?”

Gretchen looked at her with fear-filled eyes. “Something bad.”

“Tell me.”

“You spent Valentine’s Day with Meredith, and I asked you to have dinner with me the next night.”

“But I asked you to have dinner.” She got a stern look from Gretchen, telling her not to interrupt. She shut her mouth.

“I asked you to have dinner, and you said okay, but you never showed. Not until later…” Gretchen seemed hesitant but rebounded quickly. “Which is why I’m so surprised you showed up tonight. I found my letters from you and called Wyatt to talk. That’s how I found out about losing the baby.”

Jax exhaled sharply. “You know about the baby.”

“I still don’t know why you kept it from me.”

Jax pressed her thumb into her palm as hard as she could. “Because you’re not supposed to get upset and…” The tear running down her nose tickled. “If anything good could come of this, you’d at least be free from that pain for a little while. That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she said, looking at Gretchen. “I wanted to take that burden from you. You blamed yourself for everything.” She recalled the late nights spent crying on the floor. Maybe the accident was fate’s way of giving back to Gretchen.

“Was it my fault?” Gretchen’s tone was exactly the same as it was three years ago when the doctor’s tried to explain how tragic things just happen.

“No. There wasn’t enough blood flow to the placenta. We couldn’t predict it, and none of the tests picked it up until it was too late.”

“How far along was I?”

“Thirty weeks,” she said, swallowing hard. She hadn’t spoken about the loss in a long time. “They let us hold her.”

“Her…?”

“Aurora.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”