He moved with that unnatural grace of his, crossing the room in three long strides and dropping to one knee beside me. His eyes—so like Burke’s in color, but so different in expression—scanned me quickly, professionally, taking in my position on the floor, the way I clutched my stomach, the sweat plastering my hair to my forehead.
“Danny,” he said, his voice steady in a way that immediately calmed something wild and terrified inside me. “Where is everyone?”
Another contraction seized me before I could answer, stealing my breath and arching my back against the hardwood floor. I felt Sterling’s hand slip into mine, strong and sure, and I squeezed it with a strength born of desperation, probably hard enough to break the fingers of anyone who wasn’t a former SEAL.
Sterling didn‘t flinch, just held my hand and waited for the contraction to pass, his eyes never leaving my face.
When I could breathe again, the words tumbled out in a rush. “Burke’s with Rawley and Macon, fixing the north pasture fence. They left hours ago. I had the walkie-talkie, but I can‘t find it now. The baby’s not supposed to come for two more weeks. I don’t know what—“ Another contraction cut me off mid-sentence, this one even stronger than the last.
Sterling nodded once, decisive. “How long between contractions?”
I shook my head weakly. “I don’t know. Maybe three minutes? They’re getting closer.”
He didn’t waste time with questions or panic. In one smooth movement, he slid his arms beneath me and lifted me from the floor as if I weighed nothing at all. I felt the solid strength of him as he carried me through the house, his steps sure despite my awkward weight.
“Which room?” he asked, already heading for the stairs.
“Master bedroom,” I gasped, clinging to his neck as another contraction threatened. “End of the hall.”
Sterling took the stairs two at a time, his breathing barely altered by the effort of carrying me. He shouldered open the bedroom door and gently laid me on the bed, his movements careful but efficient.
“Where’s the walkie-talkie?” he asked, already moving to search the room.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice breaking. “I thought it was downstairs. Maybe in the kitchen? Or the living room?”
Sterling disappeared from the room, and I heard the sound of quick footsteps as he searched the house. I tried to focus on my breathing, the way Dr. Winters had taught us in birthing class. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slow and steady. But another contraction hit, and all technique fled my mind as pain consumed me once more.
When Sterling reappeared in the doorway, his expression told me everything I needed to know. No walkie-talkie.
“Phone?” he asked, already pulling his cell from his pocket.
“Charging downstairs,” I said, gesturing vaguely in what I hoped was the direction of the living room. “Called Burke earlier, but they’re probably out of range. Service is spotty in the north pasture.”
Sterling was already dialing, his face set in that neutral mask he wore like armor. I watched as he listened, then pulled the phone from his ear with a barely audible curse. “No signal.”
Of course not. That would be too easy.
He moved to the bed, sitting on the edge with that contained energy that always made me think of a coiled spring. “I need to check your progress,” he said matter-of-factly.
I nodded, beyond embarrassment at this point. Sterling’s hands were gentle as he pushed up my shirt to feel my stomach, his touch clinical but not cold.
“Another contraction coming?” he asked, eyes on his watch.
As if on cue, the pain built again, stealing my breath and rational thought. Sterling counted aloud, his voice steady, grounding me in the midst of the agony. “That’s thirty seconds,” he said when it finally passed. “And it’s been less than two minutes since the last one.”
He met my eyes, and I saw something there that sent a fresh wave of fear through me. Concern.
“Danny,” he said, his voice still steady but with a new urgency. “I don’t think you have time to get to the hospital. This baby is coming now.”
“What?” Fresh terror coursed through me. “No, no, no. We need to get to the hospital. I need Burke. I can’t have this baby here!”
But even as I protested, another contraction seized me, stronger than all the others. I screamed, my body curling around the pain.
“It’s okay,” Sterling said when I could focus on him again. “I’ve delivered babies before, three of them actually. You’re going to be fine.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve delivered babies?” It seemed impossible—this lethal man with his cold eyes and deadly skills, bringing new life into the world.
He nodded, already moving around the room with purpose, gathering towels from the bathroom, checking the drawers of the nightstand. “Afghanistan. Twice in a village when we were pinned down by enemy fire. Once in Iraq during an evacuation.”
