I let out a short laugh, but unease creeps in fast. “Is Eden okay?”
There’s a pause too long. “I thought she’d be with you by now.”
My stomach drops. “She’s not with me,” I say, my heart immediately picking up speed as I push to my feet and glance out the window.
“Oh. She left to come to you.”
“We didn’t have plans,” I reply, confusion knotting tight in my chest.
“No, she said she needed to tell you something.”
My throat closes. Tell me something? My mind spirals instantly, is she having second thoughts or regrets? Last night replays in my head on a loop.
“But that was a while ago now,” she continues. “I just found her phone when I was locking up. She must’ve left it behind in a rush.”
“How long ago?” I ask, already grabbing my coat.
“Well . . . at least forty-minutes.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, ending the call as I bolt for the door.
The door slams behind me as I take the steps two at a time.Almost an hour.With no phone.
My bike roars to life beneath me, and I tear down the track, gravel spraying as I hit the road hard. The wind slices against my face, but it does nothing to cool the heat flooding my veins.
She wouldn’t just wander off. Not Eden. Not like that.
My mind fills the gaps with worst-case scenarios. Panic sits heavy in my chest, clawing, suffocating. I replay the last thing she said to me. Her smile this morning. The way she’d kissed me like it meant something.
Jesus Christ.
I take the turn towards the farm lanes without slowing, tyres screaming as I lean into it. The road narrows, hedges closing in, the rain slicking the tarmac until it shines under my headlight.
And then I see her.
Bent over at the side of the lane, one hand braced against the fence, the other clutching her stomach. Her dress is darkened at the hem, clinging to her legs. Her hair is plastered to her face, her shoulders shaking.
“Eden!” I shout, already skidding the bike to a stop.
She looks up at the sound of my voice, eyes wild, panicked, and then another pain rips through her because she cries out, a sound that goes straight through me.
“I . . . I couldn’t . . .” She gasps, trying to straighten but failing. “I think the baby is coming.”
I’m off the bike and at her side in seconds, my hands hovering, terrified of touching her wrong, of doing anything that makes this worse.
“Hey. Hey, look at me,” I say, forcing calm into my voice even as my heart pounds so hard, I swear it might break my ribs. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
Her hand fumbles for mine, and when I close my fingers around hers, she clings on like I’m the only solid thing left in the world.
“My waters,” she pants. “They . . . they broke.”
The world tilts.Labour. Now. It’s early.
I swallow hard, nodding even though my head is spinning. “Okay. That’s okay,” I lie smoothly. “We’ve got this.”
Another contraction hits and she cries out, folding into me, her face buried in my chest. I wrap my arms around her instinctively, anchoring her.
“I left my phone,” she sobs. “I just wanted to talk to you. Oh god, I’m not ready. I don’t even have all the stuff I need.”
