I pull up Piper’s contact instead.
Noah:Tell her I’m on my way.
Noah:Tell her to hold on.
Noah:Tell her I love her.
Piper:Just get here.
I’m so gone for her. My wildcat. My kitten. My Lucy. At least, Iintendto make hermineagain. I’ll do whatever it takes. Resolve courses through my veins.
I take another deep breath and will her to hold on. Will my baby to wait for me.
I love you, I send the thought out into the universe, hoping that she can feel it. Hopingtheycan feel it.I love you both.
Wait for me.
My knee is jiggling wildly and I’m chewing up the inside of my mouth as Aidan slows for an intersection. The light is red and he coasts up to the line glancing cautiously both ways before pressing hard on the gas pedal and causing the truck to lurch forward through the lights. We’ve made good time thanks to him. I allow myself a brief moment of gratitude for my partner, for my friends–both he and Piper–for looking out for us. Supporting us.
Then my mind is back on Lucy as I spot the turn off for the hospital.
Aidan flips on the siren as we skid around the corner and into the home stretch. We screech to a halt out front of the emergency entrance and I fling my door open. I pause in front of the automatic doors though, a little dazed and working to steel myself for what comes next.
Aidan jumps out too, rounding the truck and clapping me on the back. “Good luck, brother,” he murmurs. “Tell P I’m going to park and then I’ll be up to meet her in the waiting room.”
I meet his encouraging gaze and nod, but somehow … I’m frozen.
He gives me a light shove, chuckling now. “Go get your girl. Meet your baby and make things right.”
I nod again, fear and determination warring inside me. Then I rush into the hospital.
CHAPTER 26
LUCY
Piper chatters to me. Something about Mrs. Abernathy and the mayor. Henry’s mentioned in there at some point too, but I’m barely able to focus what with the pain and my ever increasing anxiety about what’s happening. The nurses are scurrying around more urgently and nobody will meet my eyes.
I’m forced to roll onto my side with the pain of the next contraction, and then I’m on all fours … but nothing helps. Finally, freckles approaches, her expression grim.
“You’re going to have to get on your back again now,” she says.
“What’s happening?” I demand through gritted teeth.
“The baby’s heart rate keeps dropping with each contraction. We’re still monitoring it, but I need you to be prepared. If this continues, we may have to move quickly.”
My own heart rate spikes at those words.
“But Noah–” I croak, and Piper squeezes my arm. “He’s not here yet. He needs to be here.”
The nurse nods sympathetically. “We’ll see, okay? Nothing’s been decided yet.”
Cut my baby out. She didn’t say it but I know that’s what she meant. The thought is at once terrifying, though not as terrifying as something happening to my little bean. Him. Her. Now I wish we’d found out.
What if–
Nope, not going there.
Another wave of pain hits and I gasp, the contraction paralyzing in its intensity. I’m shocked by the deep animalistic grunts and groans that tear from my chest as I ride it out.
