Jase, Brek, Eli, and Dean had all been buddies since high school. Dean was right, Jase and Eli would abso-fuckin’-lutely find a way to weasel out of best-man duties. Except the bachelor party. They’d be all over that.
Brek did the math in his head. Dimefront, the band he managed, would still be on break. Which meant he was about to get trapped into a wedding. “August?”
Dean nodded.
“I can probably swing that.” Brek raised his beer can and touched it to Dean’s glass.
“We’ve been thinking the theme will be ‘Purple Rain.’ Flowers, dresses, everything. Dean wants a beer bar. Craft beer.” Claire got all animated about it. Eyes big. Talkin’ with her hands. “We figured we’d embrace the insanity of a wedding theme and go all in.”
“A ‘Purple Rain’ beer bar?” Velma gave her sister a look like she was crazy.
Again, it was like he and Velma had a mind meld.
“Well, when you put it like that…” Dean met Claire’s eyes, and the two of them had a moment. “Yeah, that’s exactly what we’re going for.”
Brek’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He checked the caller ID, expecting a call from one of his band members needing to be bailed out of jail. Not that it happened often, but often enough. He’d rather go bail out a drummer than think about putting on a tuxedo for Dean’s wedding.
“Give me a sec. It’s Aspen.” He stood and moved to the kitchen, answering the call. “You’ve got Brek.”
“Brek? Are you with Mom?” She sounded off.
“Nope. I’m with Dean. What’s up?” He ducked his head to hear better.
“Don’t freak out,” she said.
Which, of course, cued his internal freak-out.
“I’m at the hospital. Lots of contractions today. It’s too early, so they’re trying to stop the baby from coming. Jacob’s on his way. Can you bring Mom?”
“Which hospital?” he asked, already heading toward the door.
“St. Luke’s.” Her voice cracked a little. “Don’t let Mom panic.”
His mother panicked when her dog ate too much kibble. When Brek didn’t check in every Sunday. When the mailman tripped over his feet on her front step. Yeah, she’d lose her ever-loving mind over this.
“I’m on my way.” He snagged his jacket and shoved his phone into the pocket. “Dean, I’ve gotta roll. Aspen’s at the hospital.”
“Holy hell.” Dean stood from the table. “How can I help?”
Brek was already halfway to the door. “Call Ma. Tell her I’m on the way to pick her up.” His mother would pull out her own toenails before she’d get on the back of his Harley. She’d also be in no condition to drive herself once he told her the news. “Tell her to have her car ready.”
* * *
Brek had leftVelma’s place to pick up his slightly crazed mother and drive her across town to St. Luke’s. She was now pacing the drab antepartum waiting room—that was what it said on the door, anyway. Whatever the hell that meant.
The television remained off. Cell phones silenced. The only sound came from Brek’s foot as he tapped his heel against the polished tile floor. The room’s fluorescent lights did nothing to calm his nerves. He and Ma didn’t speak much. Not with the tension of waiting for news flowing between them like a living, breathing entity. She wasn’t even trying to set him up with the pretty nurse. That said everything.
His sister and her baby had to be okay. All she’d ever wanted was to be a mother. Things hadn’t panned out for her, though. Babies were a dream they’d all thought would never happen for Aspen. Until five months ago.
Jacob, her husband, finally arrived from Aspen’s bedside. “She’s okay,” he assured them with a weak attempt at a smile. “They’ve been able to stop the contractions for now.”
The man looked totally wiped.
“She wants to talk to you.” Jacob nodded to him. “Just you.”
Brek was through the door before Jacob could say more.
The lights were dim in Aspen’s room. An elastic contraption covered her pregnant belly and an IV pierced her hand. Several monitors flashed colored numbers and lines. One of the machines amplified the subtle swish of what had to be the baby’s heartbeat.
