by Sosie Frost
My vision immediately blackened.
I fell.
And the only image I saw in the darkness was a memory of Rory.
24
Rory
I gripped my tummy. The Braxton Hicks contractions weren’t fucking around now.
They made a tense game entirely too uncomfortable. I checked my watch. I’d been cramping on and off since the first quarter. With five minutes left in the fourth, I was ready to get up, go for a walk, lay down, curl up, do anything to get cozy again.
I rubbed my back. Even that hurt.
Leah stopped pacing long enough to shake her head at me. “You do realize that you’re in labor?”
“I am not.” My voice cracked as a painful cramp eeked through me. “I’m fine.”
Piper held both of her children in her lap. Rose bounced and giggled, waving frantically at a sleepy Sammy punking out on Leah’s shoulder. Ethan slept soundly, despite his mother’s frantic cheering whenever Cole took the field.
“Take it from me,” Piper said. “You’re having contractions. You’re in labor.”
I laughed. “I’m the one with the medical degree. This is false labor. I have ten days to go yet.”
Leah held out her phone. The text from Elle was a betrayal.
She’s definitely in labor. Tell her good luck!
I sighed. “And tell Elle to keep working. Doesn’t she have a game to photograph?”
“She might have a birth announcement to do soon,” Piper grinned.
“I’m fine.” I gritted my teeth. “It’s just…uncomfortable.”
Leah agreed. “Probably because you’re pushing out an eight-pound watermelon. It might pinch a little.”
“Well, I’ll let you know in a week. When I’ll actually be delivering this baby.”
“A week. Two hours. Who’s counting?”
This was ridiculous. I ignored the women—the very experienced women who had already given birth and knew the signs—and focused on the game instead.
The team lined up on the thirty, and I had no nails left to bite. We were down by four in a hard-hitting, harder-scoring game. We needed something, anything, to get ahead.
“Jack’s audibling.” Leah was a better color commentator than any TV announcer. “He’s changing the play. What the hell is he—Come on, Jack! Snap the damn ball!”
We all flinched, including Genie. Apparently she was tired of the low scoring game as well.
That…or she wanted a front-row seat.
The ball snapped, and Jack handed off to Jude. My chest clenched, but he broke through the line and into the clear. He raced down the field in a dead sprint, just as fast and powerful as he was when he was ten years younger. The rocketed to their feet. I followed, just a little slower.
My stomach clenched as hard as rock, but I didn’t think it was the excitement.
Uh-oh.
Jude leapt into the end zone.
“Touchdown!” Piper and Leah screamed together. The kids shouted too.
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t cheer. Couldn’t do anything but stare.
My body blitzed in a sudden shock of pain.
And Jude didn’t get up.
The team scattered to the end zone to celebrate, but their cheers were short-lived. Jack raced back across the field, shouting for the medical staff.
Jude was down.
Limp.
Lifeless.
“Oh God.” Leah grabbed my arm. “Rory—”
I didn’t let myself panic.
“I’ve gotta get down there.” I headed to the door and gasped. “I have to…help…”
Something wet wooshed down my leg, drenching my skirt.
Well, that wasn’t good.
“Oh, no.” Piper leapt away from the torrent of inconvenience that gushed like a freaking fountain from my nether regions. “Your water just broke!”
Leah’s eyes widened. “We have to get you out of here. You need to go to the hospital!”
“No.” I checked my cell phone and set a timer. “I have to go to Jude.”
“Rory, you’re in labor.”
“I don’t care. He’s hurt.”
I would not get upset. I had flipped out enough this week. Cried when the peanut butter jar was empty. Cried harder when I was covered in sticky peanut butter after reaching inside the container for the last swipe. Lost my mind completely when I got stuck in the bathtub trying to rinse away the rest of the peanut butter.
But now things were serious.
Jude was hurt. Badly. The trainers still attended him on the field, and the cart was rolling over to take him away. He could move, so the hit hadn’t paralyzed him, but I’d never worried about anything below his neck. Jude was half-man, half-ox. Nothing slowed him down except for his rattled head.
And they’d need my help with that.
I could still walk, but I was…dripping. That was entirely too gross for the VIP booth. Leah left Sammy with Piper, but Piper was already on the phone with her father, Jude’s agent. Paul Madison was on his way, though she whispered in warning that he should probably meet Jude at the hospital.
Leah and I detoured into the bathroom. I gripped the sink, nearly cracking it in two as another contraction squeezed the air out of me.
I tried to pat myself dry, but I wasn’t getting to the locker room anytime fast. Fortunately, Piper and Leah’s connections to the team’s management delivered a security guard with a cart.
Leah hopped on.
I did my best and beached myself like a whale on the tailgate of a go-kart.
The blinking yellow light cleared the path through the stadium…my leaking kept the crowds from following. I figured I’d be blubbering after the game—either from a win or loss. But no one mentioned washing out the championship game in a tsunami of my own soup.
The game continued, but the action poured into the locker room. The team doctor kept Jude on the cart. Leah helped me down, and I hurried to him, pushing the trainers from my path and ripping a stethoscope off of one of the interns.
Jude sat up…but it wasn’t him. He couldn’t focus. Couldn’t really speak. He clutched at his chest repeatedly, scaring the ever-loving hell of out of the staff who thought he had a rib injury too. I cleared them away.
“He’s trying to protect the football,” I said. “His mind is still on the field. Jude?”
I ripped a pen-light out of another trainer’s hands. Louisa edged the doctor from her path and tossed on a blood pressure cuff. She checked his vitals and stuck an oxygen monitor onto his finger.
His pupils were dilated, only mildly, but that gave me no comfort. He didn’t respond to his name.
I called it again, louder.
“Jude?” I spoke clearly. “I need you to listen to me. I’m here. You’re going to be okay.”
But I sure as hell wasn’t.
I shifted away from him, holding my stomach. That contraction was…bigger than the last. I pulled my phone out and marked the time since the previous one.
Seven minutes?
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” I grunted.
Louisa stared at me, eyes wide. “Rory, are you in…”
“Yeah, it’s just a baby.” I ignored the panicked glances of the medical staff and concentrated on Jude. I took both of his hands in mine. “Jude…listen to me. I want you to squeeze my fingers. Both hands. Lemme feel it.”
“You’re beautiful…” He stared at me. “I know you.”
Oh boy. “Squeeze my hands. We don’t have much time.”
Louisa fretted. “Rory, we have to get you to the hospital.”
“I’ll go when he goes.”
Jude squeezed. Weakly. At least I got a reaction from him. He smiled, winced, then smiled again.
“You’re having a baby.” His words were slow.
“Believe me, I’m well-aware. Can you squeeze only with your right hand?”
“My baby?”
I refused to cry. He needed me strong. I needed to be strong. Genie needed
me strong.
In fact, she was demanding it.
“Yes, Jude. It’s your baby. Squeeze my hand.”
He didn’t squeeze. His brow furrowed. “When…did we have a baby?”
“About…” I guesstimated in my head. “Six hours from now. Squeeze my other hand.”
“His vitals are good,” Louisa said. “I’ll check again in five minutes and see if they’re deteriorating.”
“Thank you.” I waited for Jude to squeeze my left hand. “Can you touch your nose for me?”
He poked himself in the eye. Swore. Tried to get off the cart.
“Outta my way.” He batted at Louisa. “I’m having a baby. Gotta…get an epidural for Rory.”
“And this is why I love you,” I said. “Any other day I’d let you quest for painkillers, but I really need you to sit down now.”
I glanced at the training staff. Their expressions revealed the same dread I felt. Though they didn’t have an actively laboring baby stomping on their knotted stomach as well.
Jude obeyed me, but he grasped his head before throwing up.
Bad, bad sign.
I kept my voice calm. Somehow. Finally, those years of medical training paid off.
“We’re both really gross right now. You’re vomiting. I’ve broken all the water. I need you to lay down, okay? Rest. We’re taking you to the hospital.”
Jude frowned. “What about my baby?”
Genie was well on her way. The contraction ripped through me again. I leaned against the cart and sucked in a harsh breath of air. This one lasted a bit longer.
Holy hell…
“I’m working on the baby,” I said. “Let’s…let’s get you in the ambulance.”
I motioned for the trainers to make room. The tunnel was large enough to fit the emergency vehicles through, and the ambulance loaded Jude up within a minute.
And of course, I was counting. Checking the contractions.
They were getting closer together.
This was going to be a photo finish.
Louisa wrote down his vitals and handed them to the EMT. She pointed at me. “You get in too. I’m not delivering a baby on the fifty-yard line. The half-time concert was entertainment enough.”
Fine by me. I wasn’t leaving Jude’s side.
Leah shouted into her phone, relaying the news to Piper. She grabbed my hand.
“Want me to come?” she asked.
“No, I’ll be with Jude.” I said. “Watch the game. I’ll call with news.”
She hugged me, careful to avoid staining her shoes on my dribbled puddle. “Good luck.”
It wasn’t me I worried about.
Jude faded in and out as the EMTs helped me into the ambulance. They tried to strap Jude to the gurney, but the unruly running back broke free and attempted to bolt.
“Gotta get to my baby,” he grunted.
I took his hand. “We gotta have the baby first. She’s not here yet.”
“I wanna hold her.”
I nodded. “So do I. Just be patient, Jude.”
He stared at the ceiling of the ambulance, frowning as the paramedics shut the door and flashed the lights. The vehicle jerked and rolled away, bouncing over the cement.
I gripped the handrail. Hard. This wasn’t comfortable. Not at all.
“Where am I?” Jude whispered.
“The championship game,” I said. “You got hit.”
“Again?”
“Again.”
He went quiet. “Just tried to protect you. Didn’t want this to happen.”
“No one did.”
I couldn’t speak anymore.
Labor hurt. Worse than I’d imagined, and I wasn’t even in the hard part yet.
Another gush of fluid splattered the ambulance.
The EMT wrinkled his nose, unable to mask his surprise. Or was it disgust? “Ma’am, do you realize you’re in active labor?”
“Doctor,” I corrected him. “And yeah. I had a clue.”
“I’ve called in labor and delivery. They’re expecting you.”
“Forget it. I’m not leaving Jude. He’s got significant trauma, potential cranial edema and elevated cranial pressure. You get me in contact with the neurologist on staff at Ironfield Regional…” The contractions weren’t making it easy to talk. Screw Lamaze breathing. I rattled off my instructions for the hospital between panting breaths. “You tell him I want a CT scan the instant we roll into the ER, got it?”
“But Doctor—”
“No buts!” My voice rose. Oh, this pain really wasn’t making me much of a princess today. “You listen to me. You don’t have a seven-pound baby burrowing her way through your cervix. And I don’t think you have eight years of medical school, an internship, one year of residency, and a neurological fellowship guiding your assessment of this patient. Take whichever qualification sounds scarier at the moment and realize I’m not leaving Jude’s side. Not until I’m certain he’s okay.”
He panicked, suddenly looking paler than Jude. “O—okay. I’ll call.”
I could sufficiently terrify an EMT, but not the ER doctor on call. We rushed to the hospital’s trauma ward, but the doctor took one look at me and shook his head.
“No way. You’re in active labor. You have to go.”
“I can’t go.” A team of nurses and interns loaded Jude into a hospital bed. He’d lost consciousness somewhere on the ride in, and I couldn’t leave him. “I have his medical history. I have his…”
Another contraction.
Goddamn, these were inconvenient.
And agonizing.
I always was an overachiever, but this was not a good time to compete for a gold medal in the baby shotput.
I kicked an intern out of my way and claimed a chair in the corner. I sat. That was better, except I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and I had no idea if they stashed epidurals in the ER. The drugs were promised…but they were upstairs.
And Jude needed a CT scan.
“Patient has a history of post-concussion syndrome.” I couldn’t speak without panting. Sweat poured off of me. “There is a possibility…that he is in the beginning stages of chronic…traumatic encephalopathy. The hit rendered him unconscious…for a minute before…he regained awareness. Speech is mildly slurred, pupils dilated, coordination impaired. Get him a scan…but with his history…”
I couldn’t concentrate. I grasped for the first thing I could find.
It happened to be an unfortunate intern’s leg.
He wouldn’t need that anyway. All he had to do was observe…watch as I pinched off his blood flow above the knee and grunted orders at the stunned and terrified medical staff.
The ER doctor was done with me. A wheelchair appeared at my side. He pointed at it.
“Get in. Now. You can’t help him anymore. You need to take care of yourself and the baby.”
“But the scan…”
“If you’re in any condition to read a scan, I’ll have an intern bring the results.” He gestured to the unfortunate man I had maimed in my quest for pain-relief. “Go.”
“But…” I stared at the table. “But Jude’s gonna miss the birth.”
The doctor shook his head. “So are you if you don’t get your uterus to the maternity ward! Go!”
I reached for him, but I didn’t want to break his fingers with an untimely squeeze. Instead I called to him.
“Jude…I have to go now. I’m gonna have the baby.”
He woke up. His voice was pleasant and confused, but also enthusiastic. “Have fun.”
Oh, sure. This was tons of fun.
The contractions in the elevator were a barrel of laughs. Getting stranded in the hallway while the nursing staff celebrated the Rivets’ win was a blast.
And crashing into the hospital bed, strapping into the machinery, and getting poked and prodded as my dilation passed into the lucky sevens, was one hootenanny after another.
I grabbed for the phone, desperate to contact the doctor downstairs. B
ut the nurses rolled me for the epidural, and I decided the pain-relief would only help when I inevitably held an intern hostage for updates.
Besides, I couldn’t reach anyone downstairs. The nurses buzzed in and out. The contractions started hitting every four minutes.
Without pain to distract me or a direct line to Jude’s current doctor, I had only the crippling panic to keep me company.
I was alone.
The nurses had paged Regan, but her department was in the middle of an emergency car crash that had injured two children. She couldn’t leave her patients’ sides.
She was determined. I respected that.
I’d have done the same, but the technicians didn’t like getting placenta on the CT scans. That was a good rule.
I texted Leah, but the celebration rocked within the locker room. I watched the TV as the team partied, praising Jude for the winning touchdown.
I hoped one day he’d remember it.
“Rory?”
I wasn’t decent. My hospital gown rode up my legs, I sweated like a pig, and I was certain every part of me was sticky and gross.
So it was a perfect time for my step-brother to walk in.
“Eric?” I groped for the blankets and hoped he hadn’t gotten a sneak preview of his intrepid niece. “What…what are you doing here?”
“I’m so sorry.”
Eric had the same timing as his mother—half-past completely inappropriate. He raced to the bed, sat down in the spare chair, and grabbed my hand.
Not the time.
“I was at the game,” he said. “I saw everything. When Mom texted and said you were having the baby, and all I could think of was Jude on that field…” He kissed my hand and stared at me with wild, wide eyes. “Rory, I am so sorry. I am such a horse’s ass.”
“Yeah, that’s okay,” I said. “I’m pretty much all vagina right now.”
“I should never have let you do this alone.”
“I wasn’t alone. I had Jude.”
“No.” Eric shook his head. “We’re your family. Mom and me…we weren’t there.”
“I got a call from Grandma Mildred every week.”
“That doesn’t count. Grandma Mildred drunk dials everyone on her contact list.”
“Eric, I know what you’re doing, but…” I gestured to the hospital room, the stirrups, my lack of clothing. “You don’t have to apologize. I know this was hard on you.”
