EPILOGUE JACK
I expected nerves when this moment came, but not the kind that turns my hands slick on the wheel. My heart drums against my chest as the city blurs past. Every red light feels like a test I’m failing. Every slow driver is a personal affront.
Beth is next to me, fists clenching the seat, jaw tight.
“Jack, if you don’t get us to the hospital in the next five minutes, I swear to God—” Her voice comes out sharp, clipped by pain.
“I’m going as fast as I can, sweetheart.” My voice is thin, tight. “Unless you want me to break the law and run every light.”
She stares at me between contractions, sweat beading at her hairline. “At this point, I don’t care if you drive through a building. Just get me there.”
I try to laugh, but the sound sticks in my throat. Watching her like this—helpless, hurting, desperate—I’ve never felt so useless.
I fumble for my phone and call my parents. Mom answers instantly.
“Jack? What’s wrong?”
“It’s happening. We’re on the way to the hospital.” I glance at Beth, whose eyes squeeze shut as another contraction rips through her.
“Oh, my God. We’ll meet you there. I’ll let Henry know.”
“Thanks, Ma.” I end the call just as I pull into the hospital lot.
I throw the truck intoParkand run to her side. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” I say, helping her out, steadying her as she doubles over.
“Jack, it hurts,” she whispers, clutching my arm.
I press a quick kiss to her temple. “I know. I’m here.”
A nurse barrels out with a wheelchair. I help Beth sit. The nurse offers a reassuring smile. “We’re ready for you, Mrs. Connor.”
Beth laughs breathlessly, wincing. “Still getting used to that name.”
I clasp her hand. “Better get used to it.”
Inside, everything accelerates. Nurses check her vitals, prep the monitors, usher us into a delivery room. I grip her hand through every contraction, wiping sweat from her brow, whispering encouragement.
“I want an epidural,” Beth manages between ragged breaths.
The nurse glances at a monitor, then at the doctor stepping in. He gives Beth a sympathetic look. “You’re already at nine centimeters, Beth. It’s too late.”
Her eyes fly open, wild. “What?”
“This baby’s not waiting.”
Beth drops her head back, groaning. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I squeeze her hand, feeling bones grind. “You’ve got this, sweetheart.”
She shoots me a glare. “You did this to me, Jack.”
I almost grin. “You didn’t complain at the time.”
Somehow, she laughs—half pain, half fury. “Remind me to kill you later.”
The doctor smiles. “Beth, I need you to push on the next contraction.”
She locks her gaze on mine, then bears down, knuckles white.
