by Dani Dundee
“I assume we’ll be heading back first thing in the morning?” Ally asked as Jami slid her plate to her across the counter.
“I will, but you’ll be sleeping in,” he told her, frowning as she pressed her hands to her hips and stretched her back with a grimace. “Still hurting, babe?”
“Just a little. I think I was on my feet too long today. I swear this kid is going to be twenty pounds when it’s born. At least, it’d better be with all the weight I’ve gained.”
Jami groaned, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed, and cut it off at the pass. “Don’t even start. You look great and you know it.”
“I’m fat.”
“You’re pregnant. Now shut up and eat.” Sitting down beside her, they ate quickly and silently, reflecting on the day ahead. Jami wanted to be there when Don woke up. If it wasn’t for Ally’s discomfort, he would still be there now. Every second he wasn’t, it felt like he was missing something. What if he woke up to find that Don had another attack and died? He’d never forgive himself for not being there, but Ally had to come first, and he wouldn’t be any good to anyone if he was dead on his feet.
Heh. Poor choice of words.
“Do you want me to rub your back?” Jami asked Ally’s reflection in the mirror as they brushed their teeth.
Leaning over the sink, she spit white foam into it before replying. “It’s okay. I’m feeling better now, just tired.”
“Are you sure?”
She glanced at his hands before meeting his eyes and he knew exactly what was on her mind. Still recovering from his last surgery, his hands were shit. Most days they ached as if already riddled with arthritis, and even though he could form a fist now, they hurt like a sonofabitch if he tried to hold the position for any length of time. Ally knew that, so she tried to avoid making him do anything that would cause any more pain, but fuck that. He was not going to have his wife look at him like he was an invalid, incapable of doing something as simple as a massage.
“Get your ass on the bed,” he growled. Grabbing her lush, round hips, Jami herded her out of the bathroom, ignoring her complaints that he didn’t need to, that she was feeling much better, really. As soon as she was sitting on her ass, hunched over a pillow she held bunched against her chest, Jami pressed his fingers into the soft tissues around her spine.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, and Jami wanted to beat his chest in triumph.
“Good?” he grunted, knowing damn well it was. She moaned her response, and Jami grinned. “See, babe. Never argue with your husband. I know what’s best.”
Somehow, even though her body remained slack, she managed to jab him in thigh with her elbow, making him laugh. “You’re not supposed to tease pregnant women.”
“Says who?”
“Says—” Her words cut off on a moan that definitely wasn’t from the pleasure he was giving her.
Worry knitted his brows together, and Jami froze. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Ally panted. After a moment, she spoke again, her words and breaths coming easier. “I’m fine now. Just gas or something.” Tossing the pillow back at the head of the bed, she kind of rolled onto her side and then melted onto her back, her large, round belly taking center stage.
“Are you sure?” Jami asked as he crawled over to lie down beside her. Placing his hand on her stomach, he rubbed his palm over it. A warming sensation hit him dead center in the chest every time he thought about the little person they’d made growing inside the woman he loved more than his next breath.
They didn’t know what the sex of the baby was yet, choosing to be surprised, but it didn’t matter. Whatever it was, boy or girl, their baby already had him wrapped around its little finger.
Ally’s mouth opened in a yawn and she smiled sleepily. Covering his hand with hers, she said, “I’m sure. I just overtaxed myself today. Nothing a little sleep won’t fix.”
Jami studied her for a moment before deciding she was right. They were all stressed. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, a small chuckle leaving him when she didn’t respond. He’d never seen anyone fall asleep faster than a pregnant woman. After whispering “I love you” in her ear, he reached over and turned out the lights.
***
“Jami. Jami, wake up.”
Stirring, Jami grunted at the sound of his name. “Hmm, what?” It felt as if he’d just closed his eyes. It couldn’t be time to get up already.
“My water broke. We have to go to the hospital.”
Well, shit. If ever there were words that could wake a man up from a dead sleep, those were it. Jolting upright, Jami reached for Ally before his eyes had time to adjust to the light...and landed in a massive wet spot. “Your water broke? Are you sure?” Because duh! It wasn’t as if the soaked sheets were any indication of what was going on.
Ally’s strained expression struck him hard. “Very sure.”
“Are you having contractions?” he asked, noticing how she clutched her stomach. Again, duh. Pressing his palm to it, he wished he could take the pain into himself so she wouldn’t have to suffer. It was frustrating to know the best he could do was support her.
“Yes. They’re just a few minutes apart. We should hurry.”
“A few minutes?” Jami frowned as he shoved his feet into his shoes. He’d read in a book once that first-time mothers could be in labor for hours, sometimes days. Suspicious, he asked, “How long have you been having them?”
Her face crumpled as another wave of contractions hit her. “Since yesterday. At the hospital. I didn’t want to worry you with everything going on.”
“Worry me?” Jami snapped as he hurried to the closet to retrieve her overnight bag. “Damn it, Ally, you’re my number one priority. You should have told me.”
“I know. I’m sorry, but I knew it would take time, and I didn’t want to add anything to your plate.”
Jami was fuming inside, but he didn’t allow it to show as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her out the door. That fucking backache...To think she had been in labor all that time and he didn’t even know it. Leave it to her to be so damn stubborn as to spend the day in pain just to save him a couple hours of imagined headache.
“You’re a pain in my ass, Ally,” he said with a tender smile on his face as he navigated the darkened city streets.
“You know what you—signed up for—when you married me,” she panted. “And if we’re going to—talk about pain—arg! Can’t you drive any faster?”
Glancing from the road to her and back again, Jami reached out and took hold of her hand. “Breathe, baby. We’ll be there soon.”
He spent the next ten minutes talking to her like that, reminding her to practice her breathing, and biting back curses when she tightened her fingers around his so tight they felt like they’d pop off his damn hand. He’d probably need extra surgeries after tonight, but hell if he cared. He’d take it and more if it meant shouldering some of the pain for her.
They were about a mile out from the hospital when everything changed.
“Pull over,” Ally said, panic making her voice tight.
“What?” Jami’s gaze switched from the road to her, unsure he’d heard her right.
“The baby is coming. Pull over!” Holding her stomach with both hands, she started breathing in earnest, her face scrunching up and turning colors.
“Holy shit, do not push!” Jami yelled as he pressed the gas pedal down harder. “We’re almost there, Ally. Just a few more minutes.”
“I can’t—waiiittt!”
As his blood pressure shot through the roof, Jami knew instinctively they weren’t going to make it in time. Reluctantly steering the car onto the shoulder, Jami threw it into park then jumped out.
Yanking the passenger door open, he went on autopilot even though he was pretty damn sure his heart was going to explode. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him, someone who didn’t know the first thing about having a baby.
Ally sat in her seat, looking like she
’d just gone a few rounds in the ring with a prize fighter, breaths sawing out of her chest and tears leaking down her cheeks, but no less heart-stoppingly beautiful to him.
“What do I do?” he asked her desperately. “I’m lost here, Ally. Tell me what to do.” Kneeling down on a bed of loose pebbles, he reached inside the car and pulled her legs until her body was facing him.
“I don’t know,” she cried. “I’ve never done this before!”
“Well, then,” he said, expelling a heavy breath, “Let’s hope all those birthing programs you made me watch are about to prove their weight in gold.”
In was a miracle in itself that Jami was able to keep a level head while he helped her out of her pants and got her settled in the backseat. It was even more incredible that he was able to call the police and talk to the operator in a voice that wasn’t filled with shrieking and crying, because that was what he felt like doing. Especially when the operator instructed him to open Ally’s legs and check out what was happening down below.
He was completely unprepared for that.
“Holy shit!”
“What’s wrong?” Horror washed over Ally’s face.
Looking up at her, he said, “I see the head.” To the operator he said, “I think I’m going to pass out.”
“Don’t do that, sir,” the operator said calmly. “Your wife is going to need you for this next step. Now, tell her to push.”
The operator’s words snapped Jami back into reality. Ally and their baby needed him. He couldn’t puss out. As she guided him through the process, Jami forced himself to get good and focused, just like he used to do in the ring.
Somehow, through all the crying and screaming—some of it from him—the most amazing thing happened. As the baby’s head rotated around, he saw his baby’s face for the first time, and something inside him sighed. Another push, and the shoulders slid free, then it just...fell into his hands.
Jami scrambled at first to get a good hold on the baby so he didn’t drop it, and then he realized something.
He didn’t drop it.
Staring down in wonder, Jami’s held the bundle of limbs securely, in a hold that showed no signs of failing. Not for a second.
“Sir. Sir, what’s happening? Can you tell me what’s going on?”
The baby’s face mashed up in a pathetically adorable way and then it let loose something that sounded like the baaing of a lamb.
Looking up, Jami met Ally’s watery eyes and grinned. “We have a boy.”
***
CHAPTER FOUR
Don heard voices. At first, he wondered if he was dead, but then decided that couldn’t be right. Dead people wouldn’t be in as much pain as he was in right now.
Holy Christ, it felt like someone had lit a fire in his chest then broke every one of his ribs trying to put it out. With an axe. He’d spent years getting pummeled in the ring, broke all kinds of things, but he’d never felt anything like this.
If he wasn’t already dead, he wanted to be.
“I think he’s waking up,” he heard someone say. Sensing them at his side, Don moaned, since apparently his vocal chords had taken a T.O. “Don? Can you hear me?” Jami maybe. A hand slid into his. “Squeeze my hand if you’re in pain.”
He did. He squeezed the shit out of that hand. At least, he thought he did. He couldn’t seem to make anything move like he told it to, but as the pain started to fade, he figured he must have done something.
“Hey, old man. If you’re done playing possum, try opening your eyes for me. I’ve got something I want to show you.”
Definitely Jami. He was the only one with the balls to talk to him like that.
The first attempt he made at trying to pry open his peepers were not without some difficulty. Someone must have stuffed his lids with tiny shards of glass then weighted them down with twenty-pounders. It took a lot of effort and even more time to work his way up to it, but he finally managed to crack them open enough to catch a glimpse of the room.
“Why are you all here?” he asked, his voice shredded from disuse and a severe case of cotton mouth.
As if they read his thoughts, someone pushed a straw between his lips and a second later he swallowed, sending a cool stream of water washing down his throat.
“Do you remember what happened?”
Opening his eyes fully, Don saw Jami standing over him with a pensive expression on his handsome mug. He tried to think back, but only got as far as the gym and a vague recollection of having a conversation with Jami before everything turned foggy. He shook his head.
Sighing, Jami leaned into the bed rail. Don felt his brows pinch as he looked down at it, his brain working overtime as it picked up on the clue and started putting things together.
“You had a heart attack, that’s why we’re all here,” Jami said, tilting his head toward Ally, Spencer, and Spencer’s girlfriend Olivia. “You died on the table, you bastard. Twice. The docs had to crack you open to get you up and running again.”
“I told them no extraordinary measures,” Spencer chimed in. “But, you know, they had to try.” Don glared but there was no heat behind it, and Spencer’s wide grin said he knew it.
So, he’d had his ribs busted open after all. Guess that explained the holy hell! happening in his chest right now.
His gaze moved around the room and, not to sound like an old coot, but he hated how everyone was watching him. Those forlorn expressions on their faces were just too much.
“What did you want to show me?” Don croaked, hoping to offer enough of a distraction to get the attention off him.
Jami’s answering smile had him hoping it was good news. His eyes flicked up toward Ally and he jerked his head for her to come to him.
“Olivia, can you give me a hand?” Ally asked her friend, and as the girl stepped forward, Don realized that she wasn’t just sitting. She was in a wheelchair.
And that wasn’t all.
He swallowed thickly, a sudden surge of emotion catching him off-guard. “Is that...” As they rolled up alongside the bed, Jami bent down to remove the bundle from Ally’s arms.
Shaking his head, Don couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “When? How?”
“Well,” Jami smirked as he pulled the thin blanket back, “I think you know the how. The when was early this morning.”
“He was so eager to get here, he couldn’t wait to get to the hospital,” Ally added.
Don looked up in question, sensing more to the story, and Jami filled him in. “Ally delivered him on the side of the road, in the backseat of the car. I caught him,” he said in wonder, looking down at his scarred and ruined hands. “It was incredible. I never thought...”
As he trailed off, Don knew what he was thinking. He never thought he’d be able to do hold his kid, much less help bring him into the world. People took things like that for granted, the simple use of their hands. A fighter at heart, Jamison had been beating himself up for months, and now...Well, now he had proven himself wrong, hadn’t he? Now he knew, without a doubt, that he could be there for that kid in all the ways that mattered.
Seeming to shake himself, Jami smiled up at him. “Do you want to hold him?”
Jami was already leaning over, placing the baby into Don’s arms before he could utter a protest. Having been an only child and never having his own family, he’d never held a baby before. But this one...It felt natural to open his arms and accept the offering.
Oh, God. He was tiny. Breakable in his arms. “A boy?” he asked, even though he knew just from looking at his strong features—full lips, stern brow, thick crop of dark hair peeking out from beneath a knitted hat—that he was. Even sleeping, he looked like his father.
“All nine pounds ten ounces,” Jami said proudly. “So what do you think of little Jamison Donald Weston Junior?”
Don’s slate gray eyes flipped up, his lungs constricting. “You gave him my name?”
“Congratulations, Grandpa,” Ally said with a broad smile that shredded him.
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“Shit.” Tearing his eyes away, Don cleared his throat, fighting back another unexpected surge of emotion. His gaze fell on the baby and hell if his chest didn’t feel like it was being cracked open all over again.
“Are you okay?” Jami asked. “Do you need me to call the nurse?” He was already reaching for the call button, but paused when Don shook his head.
“I’m good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, just a little, you know.” He cleared his throat again, letting the silence speak for itself. No need to actually say the words. They knew what was up.
After a moment passed, Jami asked, “It’s a good name, right?” a thread of something—maybe worry, or a need for his approval—making its way into his tone.
He was glad to know that he still needed him. That he hadn’t outgrown his usefulness. Most importantly, he was glad that he still had a place in their world. They weren’t blood, but he’d always believed that family was what you made it. As Don looked around the room, he realized that, while it wasn’t perfect, this little ragtag bunch was his family, and they were going to get along just fine.
Nodding, Don said thickly, “Oh, yeah. No doubt about it. With a name like that, this kid is going to be one hell of a champ.”
***
Jamison Weston is the kind of guy dads load their shotguns for; endowed with a hot temper and a rap sheet as long as both tattooed arms. Known as "The Judge," Jami's hot temper, lethal fists, and cocky attitude have earned him respect and admiration both in and out of the ring. But just when he thinks he's pummeled his past to death, Alyson Blake reenters his life.
KNOCKOUT
(Wayward Fighters)
