“He’s here?” Amanda cried in the background. “Put him on the phone, Joss. Please . . . put him on the phone.”
“Can you put Dean on your phone?” Joss asked me. “Amanda wants to—”
“He can use his own fucking phone.”
“Babe,” she said in a weary tone. “Just put him on the phone.”
I met Dean’s pissed-off gaze. “Hey, the woman you fucked over wants to talk to you. Just to clarify: it’s not the first one you fucked over; it’s the second one.”
He scowled at me and swiped the phone when I held it out to him.
“Hey,” he said, turning his back to me. “Yeah, I wouldn’t miss this . . . it’s gonna be okay. I get that it’s scary, but Joss is a good doctor . . . I know. . . . she’s delivered lots of babies, though. Yeah, we can talk, but first just get through this, okay? I’ll be here when you get out, and I’ll stay with you through the delivery.” He moved the phone away from his ear. Amanda was screaming so loud I could hear it through the wall again.
“You have to get them the fuck out of there,” he said to me in a low tone, covering the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand.
I approached him and leaned toward the phone, hearing Joss in the background.
“Baby’s crowning, Amanda. You’re doing so great. Forget about the phone.”
Dean gave me a pleading look. “If the baby’s crowning, it could be a matter of minutes. Come on, man.”
I couldn’t stand being helpless out here any longer, either. We were on the ambulatory surgery floor, the closest one to where the women were trapped, and even though it was a quiet floor at this time of day, people were starting to look at us through the glass windows on a set of closed doors. Word must have gotten out about Amanda being in labor in the elevator.
“Okay, get a paramedic team up to the seventh floor,” I told Dean. “Brief them. I’m going into the elevator shaft through the access door on the seventh floor. I’ll take off the panel on top of the elevator. We’ll either get them out or get more people and supplies in.”
Dean took off running in one direction, and I went the other. If Joss had to deliver this baby inside the elevator, I could at least make sure she wasn’t alone doing it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Joss
“It fucking hurts”—Amanda stopped to pant—“like a motherfucker.”
“I know.”
She shook her head frantically. “But really you don’t. I’ve talked women through . . . fuck . . . through this, but I had no . . . no idea.”
“Just hang in there.”
When she leaned up on her elbows and looked at me, I saw that sweat was pouring off her forehead. “I’m having my baby in this elevator. I can’t . . . ahhhhhh, shit. . . . can’t believe this is happening.”
“You’ve got this, Amanda. You had a healthy pregnancy, and baby is nearly full term.”
She burst into tears. “I never thought I’d be a single mom. God, I’m scared.”
“It’s time to push, okay? You’re going to be fine; I promise. You can do this. All of it.”
“You think?” she asked weakly.
“I know. You’re strong. Come on, now. For your baby. Push.”
She gritted her teeth and groaned as she pushed. I forced myself not to think about what I didn’t have, which was . . . well, everything. I’d have to take off my shirt to wrap the baby in when it was born. Hopefully, Carson would get us out of here soon.
“Okay, take a break,” I said.
Amanda dropped her head to the elevator floor, moaning softly and breathing hard.
“I kind of hate Dean,” she said, her voice so soft I almost didn’t hear it.
“I totally get that. He’s been awful to you.”
“And you.”
“Another big push for me, Amanda, okay? Come on, mama.”
She cried softly. “I don’t know if I can, Joss.”
“Get up on your elbows and push,” I ordered her. “Right now. It’s just you and me, and I can’t do this part for you.”
She pushed up onto her elbows, her brows lowered in a look of determination.
“Good girl,” I said. “Give it all you’ve got now.”
She pushed with all her strength, and the baby’s head came out. Just as it did, there was a sound and movement on the elevator’s ceiling. I looked up and saw a panel being moved aside. Carson looked down at me. I had to focus on the baby, but relief washed through me.
“Your baby has the most gorgeous brown hair, Amanda,” I said. “The head is out. Rest for a second.”
She was crying. I didn’t know if it was pain, joy, or sadness, but she was weeping. I felt a surge of protectiveness for her. Like me, she’d been charmed and then dumped by Dean. And now, she was having her first child pretty much all on her own.
As I encouraged her to push again, Carson deftly hung on to the sides of the hole in the elevator ceiling and dropped inside, swinging himself over to the empty side. He took something from his back.
“Hattie threw a bunch of stuff in here for you,” he said. “She gave me gloves and told me to put them on and hand you stuff when you need it.”
“Okay. Get those gloves on.”
Amanda screamed as the baby’s shoulders came out, and then she moaned with relief. The rest of the baby slid out into my hands quickly, and I started my post-delivery work.
“You have a beautiful daughter, Amanda,” I said.
“A girl?” There was joy in her voice as she cried.
“She’s perfect.” I glanced at Carson and quietly murmured, “Are we getting them out of here soon?”
“The fire department’s going to evacuate you guys.”
“Scissors,” I said.
He passed them over, and I went to work on the umbilical cord.
“Put a blanket under Amanda’s head for me. Roll it up first. I want her to be able to see the baby.”
He did as I asked, and then I passed the baby into her waiting arms. She met my eyes and smiled.
“Thank you, Joss.”
“You did the hard part. I’m so proud of you.”
I went to work on the placenta as she spoke to her little girl. There were a couple of thuds on top of the elevator, and then two firefighters peered through the top at us.
“Who’s going first?” one of them asked Carson.
He looked at me.
“The baby,” I said. “Is OB on standby?”
“They’re ready.”
Amanda’s brows pinched together in worry. “Is it safe?”
One of the firefighters dropped down to the floor. “I promise we’ll take good care of your little one.”
She looked at me, and I nodded. I was still trying to stop her bleeding.
“Okay,” she said. “But first, can we get a picture?”
The firefighter smiled at her. “Of course. I can do that.”
“I know it’s kind of a weird time, but someday I want to tell my little girl about this and show her a picture of me holding her for the first time in an elevator.”
“It’ll make quite a story,” the firefighter said.
“Joss, will you hold her while I get my phone?” Amanda asked me.
I went to her side with a baby blanket and took the baby, swaddling her in the blanket and cradling her in my arms.
When I looked down at her tiny little mouth, my heart melted. Her cheeks were round and perfect, and her little coos brought tears to my eyes.
I wanted this. A baby of my own. It wasn’t something I was willing to give up. And I didn’t want it in a wait-and-see, abstract kind of way. Whether I gave birth to my own babies or adopted them, I wanted to be a mom, and I wanted it as soon as possible.
When my eyes found Carson’s, I felt a powerful pang of sadness. His expression was filled with love and pride. And I loved him back with my whole heart.
But I wouldn’t give up motherhood for him. I’d been rash for telling him it didn’t matter to me as long as I wa
s with him. It mattered. As I gently rocked Amanda’s new daughter, I knew it meant enough to me that I was willing to leave him over it.
That shattered me, but I also felt a sense of peace. I believed in him enough to have kids with him, but if he didn’t believe in himself, we weren’t going to make it.
The firefighter told us he was ready, and Amanda asked him to take photos of me holding the baby, then her holding her, and then all three of us.
A paramedic dropped into the elevator next, and when I told him the baby was cleared to be evacuated, the team took over.
I covered Amanda’s lower half with a sheet and asked Carson to go get her a gown for the evacuation. When she and I were alone in the elevator again, she looked at me in silence for a couple of seconds.
“I owe you an apology,” she finally said. “Several apologies, actually.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes, and her voice shook with emotion.
“We’re okay, Amanda. It’s okay.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not. I was awful to you. And I knew . . . I knew you didn’t deserve it.”
“We all make mistakes.”
“You’re such a good person. I appreciate it, but I need to say it—I’m sorry.”
There was some part of me I hadn’t realized still felt wounded, because her apology made my throat tighten with emotion.
“Thank you,” I said, clearing my throat. “I forgive you.”
A firefighter started to climb down through the opening. I heard Carson behind him.
“Hey,” I said to Amanda, fearing I wouldn’t get another chance to say this. “You can do this. You don’t need him. Let him support your child. Make him if you have to. But don’t go back to him. You’re better than that.”
She nodded and gave me a grateful look.
Carson brought in a gown and some maternity underwear and pads. The men all turned their backs while I fixed Amanda up as best I could. I didn’t want her to be humiliated by this. The medics wrapped her in blankets and strapped her to a board. She looked like a mummy, nothing but her head showing.
Her eyes were squeezed together in fear. I could only imagine how she felt right now—weak from the delivery, still bleeding a little, and unable to even move as she was carried up an elevator shaft.
“It’ll be okay,” I said softly, brushing the hair from her forehead. “I promise. Just keep your eyes closed, and you’ll have that beautiful little girl back in your arms in a few minutes.”
Tears spilled out from the corners of her closed eyes as she nodded.
“What’s your daughter’s name?” one of the firefighters asked.
“Genevieve,” Amanda said, a smile on her lips.
They took her out on the board, reassuring her as they passed the board through the elevator opening into the arms of more firefighters on top of the elevator car.
Finally, I sat back against the elevator wall, sighing deeply. Carson sat down next to me, putting an arm around my shoulders.
“Dr. Drake, I think I just fell a little more in love with you,” he said.
I smiled and rested my head on his shoulder. His familiar, warm scent made me want to climb onto his lap and wrap my arms around him. I loved him in a way I’d never known before, and I wondered if I’d ever find it again.
“Carson.” I lifted my head from his shoulder, deciding to just bite the bullet while I had the courage.
A firefighter’s legs swung down through the elevator opening, and then he dropped down to the floor.
“Who’s next?” he said.
“We’re climbing out,” Carson said. “Her first, me behind.” He looked over at me. “There’s a steel ladder. Are you comfortable climbing on your own?”
“Yeah.”
He got to his feet and held a hand out to me, helping me to mine.
“I need to talk to you when we get up there,” I said.
“Sure.” He reached both hands toward my face, cupping my cheeks and kissing me. “I’m so damn proud of you, babe. I’m the luckiest man alive.”
My smile was weak. I didn’t want to hear anything like that right now—that would make this even harder. Breaking things off with him was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done. But seeing Amanda find her strength had helped me find mine, and I wasn’t looking back.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Carson
Even in this situation—climbing up an elevator shaft after she’d been stranded inside the car, I couldn’t help admiring Joss’s ass. It never stopped amazing me that this woman who was everything any man could ever want and more was mine.
Seeing her deliver Amanda’s baby had moved me. Knowing what she did for a living was different than seeing it. Her level-headedness had reminded me of the best commanding officers I’d had in the army.
And what’s more, she had been so compassionate to Amanda. Genuinely happy for her, even though Amanda didn’t deserve it. Joss was the best person I’d ever known.
It wasn’t a long climb to the top of the shaft, and once Joss got there, the firefighters helped pull her into the hallway. I was right behind, but I waved off their help and hauled myself over the edge.
Several people from the OB and ER floors were surrounding Joss, congratulating her, and hugging her. She smiled and thanked them, but I knew she had to be wiped out after such an emotionally draining experience.
When her eyes found mine through the small crowd, I felt an almost magnetic pull toward her. As I approached, she stepped away from the group of coworkers and reached out for my hand.
It was my unspoken cue to get her out of here, and I obliged. I led her down the hallway, and she pointed to a small conference room.
“Let’s duck in there for a minute,” she said, sounding weary. “Just so I can catch my breath without everyone looking at me.”
We went into the room, and I closed the door and pulled the blinds on its window. Joss sat down at the round table, pulling her hair out of its ponytail and running her hands through it.
“That was crazy, Carson,” she said softly. “I was terrified that she’d have complications I couldn’t handle.”
“You were amazing.”
She smiled at me, but it wasn’t her usual warm, radiant grin. This smile was almost sad.
“You okay?” I asked her.
She shrugged, and I wondered if I should keep what I wanted to tell her to myself. Since she was already overwhelmed, it wasn’t a good time. But it didn’t take me long to realize I couldn’t wait.
“I’ve got to tell you something.” I approached the table and stood next to her.
Joss looked up at me, curiosity brimming in her eyes. I took a deep breath, tried to calm my raging heartbeat, and dove in.
“When I saw you holding Amanda’s baby . . . something happened to me, Joss. I can’t really explain it, but the look on your face . . . it knocked the fucking wind out of me. It was like I was seeing you holding our baby.”
She furrowed her brow in confusion. “But you don’t want children.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. “I used to think I didn’t. At all. Then I met you, and . . . I don’t know. I meant it when I said maybe I’d warm to the idea down the road. But when I saw you just now . . .” I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “I do want it, Joss. But only with you. I know I’ll need help, and I’ll probably make mistakes, but I want us to have kids together someday.”
Her lips parted, and her entire face lit up. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” I laughed. “I can’t really believe it myself. I feel like a total girl right now, but seeing you with that baby . . . it got me.”
Her face turned serious again. “Maybe it was just a caught-up-in-the-moment kind of thing.”
“No, it wasn’t. You’re meant to be a mother, Joss. I felt it in that moment, so strong it was almost physical. And I want kids who have your blonde hair and gorgeous smile.”
“You’d be a great father,” she said softly.
“Are you sure?” Her voice was tight with emotion.
“I am. I should have waited to tell you, but—”
She jumped up from the chair and threw her arms around my neck. “You told me at the absolute most perfect time.”
I felt her wet tears against my throat, and I held her tightly against me. Clearly, this was something that meant a lot to her. I hated that she’d felt like she may have to give it up to be with me.
“I feel like I could rock one of those baby backpacks,” I said, trying to lighten the moment. “Like just throw the baby back there and hang shingles or chop wood, you know? Take him on a motorcycle ride, maybe.”
She laughed, her breath warm against my skin. “Oh, Carson. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Maybe we should get married first.”
I pulled back, and we locked eyes. “Is that a proposal?” I asked her.
“No!” Her cheeks went pink with embarrassment.
“What, like marrying me would be so awful?” I cocked a brow, teasing her.
“No.” She shook her head and laughed. No, not at all, I just . . . figured you’d be the one to propose.”
My heart swelled with love for her. “I will, babe. When the time is right.”
“I feel so much lighter now,” she murmured.
The tension was gone from her expression, and the light was back in her eyes.
“What was it that was bothering you?” I asked her. “The thing you wanted to talk to me about.”
She shook her head and smiled. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Sure it does.”
After taking a deep breath, she said, “Believe it or not, I was going to tell you that not having kids is a deal-breaker for me. I felt absolutely sick about the thought of losing you, but . . .”
“I understand.”
She met my gaze. “Do you? You don’t think that would have been . . . cold of me?”
“Not at all. I’m telling you, Joss, there was something magical happening in that elevator. I felt it, too. Like the universe was trying to tell us something. I’m just glad both of us heard it. I can be kind of a blockhead sometimes.”
Healing Touch Page 17
