Touchdowns and Tiaras: The Complete Boxed Set

by Frost, Sosie

  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. But 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.”

  “Harder on you. When I thought about Jude and you…”

  Now wasn’t the time to tell him the truth.

  Especially now that it was the truth.

  “I love Jude,” I said. “And he loves me.”

  “And I love you both.” Eric shook his head. “I’m so fucking sorry I pushed him into the mashed potatoes and hit him with a turkey. And he’s hurt, and you’re here doing…” He waved at my tummy. “Things with your body.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here. You have no idea what it means that you came to find me.” I pulled him close and kissed his cheek. “But you can’t stay.”

  “I want to help. How can I help?”

  “There’s going to be a lot of…hair-flying and bodily fluids and screaming. Some very Wes Craven gore is gonna happen in a bit. I know you’re upset, and I know you mean every word you say. I love you for it, but…” I forced a smile. “I’m going to tell you something I used to say all the time when I was little.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Get the hell out of my room.”

  Eric backed away, respectfully nodding. “Okay. Duly noted. What can I do for you though? Anything. Whatever you need.”

  I pointed to my purse. “There’s an overnight bag waiting at Jude’s, in the entry way. Take my keys, collect the lampshades Phillip is eating, and bring my clothes back.”

  “Okay.” He nervously stood. “What will you be doing?”

  “Uh…creating life. I’m kinda stuck where I am right now.”

  “And Jude?”

  My throat closed. “He’s not doing well.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  “They’ll put him under.”

  “Like surgery?”

  I shook my head. “For brain injuries, they’ll do a medically induced coma. To help rest the brain. Let it start to heal to avoid swelling.”

  Eric rocked to my side, leaned down, and kissed my head. “He’ll be okay. He’s got a baby coming. That’ll fix any man right up.”

  “Here’s hoping.” I wished I felt as confident as I sounded.

  “Don’t have that baby until I get back.”

  “No promises. She’s pretty insistent.”

  “Then I’ll hurry. I’ve missed too much already. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

  I thanked him, but Eric couldn’t give me the only thing I needed.

  Jude.

  I wanted an update. News from the doctor. A peek at his CT scan.

  A minute to talk to Jude.

  I wished I could tell him I loved him. But it wasn’t possible, so I was going to do the next best thing.

  Have my baby. Start our family. And we’d be there when he woke up.

  It wasn’t the best way to start our lives together, but it was the only one that made sense.

  Me. The baby. Jude.

  This was going to be our fairy-tale.

  And I’d make sure it had a happily-ever-after.

  25

  Jude

  “Jude?”

  Her voice called to me like music.

  “Jude.”

  The fog hadn’t cleared. I battled through the confusion and disorder that was my brain. It wouldn’t let me open my eyes.

  At least it meant I could listen to her.

  “Jude. Wake up.”

  I loved that voice. That quiet, tinkling sound of patience and sweetness and…

  A sudden, sharp cry stiffened me, but Rory’s whisper hushed the squeal into nothing almost immediately.

  I didn’t know that voice, but I knew she needed me. I tried to wake up.

  The brush of softness against my lips dragged me from the darkness. Rory’s kiss woke me from the deepest sleep.

  I opened my eyes.

  “Hi.” Her voice remained soft, but her smile shone brightly. “Jude?”

  My throat ached in dryness. Her hand brushed over my forehead. Cool. Refreshing.

  “Where am I?” My words rasped. Rory offered me a sip of water from a straw. “What happened?”

  “You’re in the hospital.”

  “Again?”

  Rory smirked. “Again. You were hit during the game.”

  “What game?”

  “The championship.”

  The lights were too bright. They haloed the angel at my bedside. Dark against light, softness layered over the pain.

  “Did I play well?”

  Rory’s smile grew. “You scored the winning touchdown…before getting knocked out.”

  “We won?”

  “You won.”

  That was a cause worth celebrating. I tried to sit up. Rory pressed a hand to my chest. She jostled the bundle in her lap.

  The squirming, wiggling bundle.

  I stared at the pink blankets.

  That didn’t make sense. What the hell had happened?

  “Jude, I want to introduce you to someone…” Rory turned the blanket down and revealed the tiniest, sweetest face I’d ever seen. Her skin was shades lighter than Rory’s, but her eyes, her hair, her nose…everything was her mother. “She couldn’t wait to meet you.”

  My heart monitor beeped too quick. It set off an alarm. “G—Genie?”

  “Well…I was thinking of calling her Dawn.”

  I struggled to get up. Rory didn’t let me move. “I missed the birth?”

  “You were unconscious.”

  “For how long?”

  “We put you under for a day and a half. But your scans are clearer now. No swelling, no major damage. Only a little bleeding we have to monitor.”

  “I missed the birth...” The disappointment and guilt shredded me. “I’m not missing anything else. I swear to you, Doc.”

  Rory squeezed my hand, but she leaned away to allow a doctor and nurse to examine me.

  This was familiar. I’d been poked, prodded, tested, sampled, and monitored before.

  It always ended the same. I was fine, but a little piece of me was lost to the fog.

  A nurse took my temperature. The activity hurt my head, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Darkness consumed me for a moment.

  Silence.

  Fog.

  “Jude?”

  Her voice. Pure music. I shifted and woke.

  Rory sat at my bedside. Beautiful. Exhausted. The only face I ever wanted to see.

  “Where am I?” I asked.

  Rory frowned. She glanced across the room. A doctor filled out paperwork and nodded.

  “He might be a little groggy for a while,” he said.

  “Retrograde amnesia?” Rory whispered.

  “Perhaps.”

  “His short-term memory?”

  �
��We’ll have to find out.”

  Me? Amnesia? What the hell was going on? My heart monitor chirped.

  Why did I have a heart monitor?

  Rory took my hand. “You’re in the hospital.”

  “What happened?”

  She hesitated. “You were playing in the championship game. You got hurt.”

  Fuck me. I knew it was going to happen.

  “Did we win?”

  “You scored the winning touchdown, but you were injured on the play. You’ve been in the hospital for almost two days. You have a concussion, but you’re going to be okay.”

  I’d stopped listening.

  Rory held a bundle of blankets in her arms. Pink. Wiggling.

  Oh Christ. What did I miss?

  I stared at the swaddle of impossible tininess. Little dark fingers poked from the blankets.

  “The baby…” She was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen. “You…you…”

  “I went into labor at the game.” Rory presented her daughter. Our daughter. “Jude, this is Dawn.”

  Dawn.

  “God, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” My words sounded hollow. The damned injury. What kind of man missed his baby’s birth? “I promise you, Rory. I wasn’t there for this, but I won’t miss anything again. I’m going to be there for everything.”

  “I know, Jude. Just rest now.”

  Rest sounded good, but I felt like I had been sleeping for hours. Days.

  Years.

  I laid my head down. The fatigue overwhelmed me.

  Then the fog.

  I slept.

  I woke with a blink.

  Nothing made sense. An IV stuck in my arm, and the sterile coldness surrounded me. I tried to get up. A hand pushed rubbed my arm.

  “It’s okay, you don’t need to move.”

  Her voice.

  Music.

  I focused on Rory’s face. She smiled.

  I think I’d always loved her smile.

  “Where am I?” I whispered.

  A tear fell across Rory’s cheek. Had I caused that?

  “You’re in the hospital with a concussion.” Her voice trembled. “You’ve been here for two days.”

  “Two?”

  “We put you to sleep to help your brain rest and heal.”

  “From what?”

  She didn’t look at me now. “You were hurt at the game.”

  Game. The thought swirled. A memory stuck for a moment before getting lost in the haze. “What game?”