“Alright, girls,” Masters said, setting down his tray. “Let’s cut the dramatics and get this show on the road. Tor, can you help Elena turn?—”
“I’m here!” Chase burst into the room, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum. “Fuck, did I miss it—hoooolyshit, that’s a big needle.”
Tori rolled her eyes. “Relax, Chase. It’s not going inyou.”
“I mean—can I get a juice box first?” He fanned his face and took a wide step away from the epidural tray.
“Oh my god.” I groaned. “You’re about to watch a whole baby come out of my body andthisis what gets you?”
“I wasn’t emotionally prepared for the industrial-size needle, okay?”
“Then maybe you should’ve stayed in the waiting room with the dads who peaked in high school.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Low blow, Sweetness. Very low.”
But the corners of his mouth twitched—because he loved it when I mouthed off, even while in active labor.
“Alright,” Masters interrupted. “Elena, we’re going to sit you up and get this done. Tori, help with positioning. Chase…” He looked up at him. “Maybe just sit over there and try not to pass out.”
Chase threw up a salute and backed into the corner, muttering something about betrayal and blood pressure.
I let Tori guide me to sitting, but halfway through the motion, it hit—a contraction. Hard. Sharp. The kind that makes your spine snap straight and your whole body lock up.
“Shit—okay, okay, okay—” I hissed through clenched teeth, eyes squeezing shut as the wave crested.
Tori rubbed my back. “Breathe through it. Deep breath in… slow breath out…”
Chase was suddenly at my side again, crouched low, panic written across every inch of his gorgeous face.
“Babe? Elena—what do you need?”
“Less noise,” I bit out. “Less talking. Less—your face.”
“Ouch,” he muttered. “She’s fine. This is the fire-breathing dragon part. We’re good.”
The contraction eased off just as quickly as it came, and I exhaled hard, pressing my forehead to the pillow clutched at my chest.
I let the silence stretch for a second then peeked up at Chase, who still looked like he might pass out. “You okay?” I asked, voice softer now.
He didn’t answer at first—just reached out to brush a damp strand of hair off my face. “You’re askingmeif I’m okay?”
“You look like you’re about to puke.”
“I’m not gonna puke,” he muttered. “Just… you’re in pain. I hate that.”
“I’m about to be in a lotlesspain, thanks to Masters and his harpoon.”
He huffed a laugh, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. Serious. Steady. A little glassy.
“I love you,” he whispered, and suddenly the room blurred out around us—just me and him and everything we’d survived to get to this exact second.
“I know,” I whispered back. “Now get out of the way so I can get this needle and nap before showtime.”
“Bossy.”
“You love that, too.”
“I really do.”
