Lights blaze on inside as I kill the engine. I haul Eden into my arms and carry her towards the door like she weighs nothing, like I haven’t got a trembling, contracting woman about to bring my kid into the world clutched against my chest.
The door flies open before I can knock.
“Oh my god,” Pete says, eyes wide. “Is it happening?”
“Yes,” I snap, already moving past him. “And unless you’ve secretly trained as a midwife, we’re doing this blind.”
He scrambles out of the way. “Get her upstairs. I’ll get towels. And, uh, hot water?”
“Good man,” I mutter.
Upstairs, I lay Eden down carefully, stripping off my soaked jacket and tossing it aside before grabbing towels and pressing them into her hands.
She laughs weakly between breaths, water still dripping from her hair. “Well,” she pants, “I suppose this counts as the water birth I wanted.”
I snort despite myself. “If this was the plan, Queenie, I feel like Jan should’ve mentioned themotorbike-in-a-thunderstormpart.”
She huffs a laugh that turns into a groan, fingers digging into my arm. “You’re . . . not funny.”
“I am absolutely hilarious,” I say, brushing wet hair back from her face. “You’re just side-tracked.”
Another contraction rolls through her, and I drop the jokes instantly, grounding her the way I’ve learned—steady voice, steady hands, eyes locked on hers.
“Breathe,” I murmur. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it. I’ve got you.”
When it passes, she slumps back against the pillows, soaked, exhausted, but fierce as hell.
“I really didn’t plan to do this on the farm lane,” she mutters.
“Yeah,” I say softly, pressing my forehead to hers. “You’ve always been an overachiever.”
Her lips twitch. “And I planned on buying the baby things this week.”
I laugh again. “You have nappies, clothes, and a basket. She’s got everything she needs.”
“She,” Eden repeats with a tired smile. “That’s the first time you’ve said ‘she’.”
I kiss her on the forehead. “Yeah, well, maybe a mini you is just what I need to keep me in line.”
Outside, rain hammers the roof like applause, thunder rolling in the distance.
Pete returns, immediately with hot water and towels. Then he drops in front of the open fire and stacking logs. “Is the ambulance coming?” he asks.
I glance at Eden, who’s watching me. “Yeah,” I lie. “On its way.” My mobile rings, and I check the caller I.D. “That’s them now, calling back,” I say, connecting the call.
“Kade, it’s the ambulance service. I need you to listen to me very carefully,” the woman says, calm but firm. “Are you somewhere safe now?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “Inside. She’s lying down.”
“Good. I need you to check how far along she is. This doesn’t mean the baby is comingright now, okay? We just need information.”
Eden’s eyes fly to mine. “What does that mean?” she asks, panic flashing across her face.
“It’s okay,” I lie smoothly, squeezing her hand. “They just wanna know what’s going on.”
I put the phone on speaker and kneel beside the bed.
“Kade,” the woman continues, “I’m going to talk you through this step-by-step. If at any point Eden says stop, you stop. Understand?”
