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“Well, un-fucking panic!” Pops growls.
“I’m fucking trying!” Rhodie roars and I pat Willa on the knee, standing and moving to my boy.
“Come on, kid,” I say, gripping him on the shoulder and moving him back toward the room his woman is in.
I guide him to a chair outside where we can hear Chewy asking question after question.
“Son, what do you need?”
He flops into the hard plastic chair, his head resting against the wall. “A woman who doesn’t wait all day to tell me she’s in labor? Or how about one that isn’t cool, calm and collected? Fuck.” He runs his hands down his face before leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
I sit quietly, staring at my boy. “You want a woman who’s in there losing her shit so you can make it better, and -”
“And instead I’m losing my shit and Chewy’s trying to make it better.”
“You two really are perfect for each other, you know that?” I bump his shoulder with mine. “Always trying to save each other from shit, but son, this? Bringing this new life into the world? That ain't nothing to shield each other from. You got one beautiful daughter and soon, you’ll have another little baby. You can shit yourself all you want, but do it in there, beside your woman. She needs you, even if she doesn't say it.”
Rhodie sniffs then scrubs his hands down his face before taking a deep breath and standing. “Thanks, Dad. Fuck, I’m so fucking glad you came home.”
“Me too, son.” I pull him into my arms and hold him tight for a beat before slapping him on the back and letting him go.
I leave him be and head back out to the waiting room where the DRMC are still in their messed up costumes, everyone shooting the shit while we wait.
Willa’s gaze meets mine and she raises her brows. “All good?”
“Yeah, they will be.”
I take a seat next to her, our shoulders touching. We don’t speak, just sit in silence as the brothers start betting on sex, weight and length of my impending grandchild while Pops argues loudly with the nurse over whether mace is a weapon or not.
“Pops! Just give it up, man,” Judge growls.
“We all know that man doesn't need mace to mess someone up,” Willa snorts beside me.
We share a look and a laugh and we just…sit, in comfortable silence.
Damn, I really like this woman.
Rhodie
Blowing out a breath I step into Chewy’s room and try not to have a fucking heart attack or worse, wrap her up in my arms and run away with her. The urge to protect her is fucking overwhelming, but I can’t protect her from this. All I can do is stand beside her and watch as her body tenses, her face screws up and she breathes deeply. I count to ten, then ten again until Chewy’s body relaxes.
Her eyes flutter open and she catches my gaze. “You feeling better?”
“Babe, I’m not the one having a baby.”
“Psh. I’ve been doing breathing exercises for months, along with perineal massage and all that yoga. Also, I’m a human woman and we’re kinda built for this.” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Well except that humans have been evolving to have larger heads in recent times and I’m a lot smaller than you. If our baby has your head then they might have to come through the sun roof.”
“The what?” She mimes stabbing, then cutting, then pretends to stitch her belly. “Shit. Yup, got it. Thanks for that visual babe.”
“You’re welcome,” she says brightly before her face screws up again.
Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.
“Babe?” she breathes.
“Yeah baby, what can I do?”
“Can you sing to me?”
