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Fuck.
She starts panting into the phone. “I tried calling Georgia, but she didn’t pick up.”
“We’re outside letting Alice do her thing. Hold on.” I move my phone away from my ear and set it on speaker so Georgia can hear. “Brooklynn’s in labor,” I tell Georgia. “Her water broke.”
Her eyes pop open wider than dinner plates. “Brooklynn, what was the fluid like? Was it clear or bloody, or did it have some green stuff in it?”
“Um, first of all, ew. Second of all, it was clear.”
Georgia rolls her eyes but breathes out a sigh of relief. “Good. How far apart are your contractions?”
“They were like fifteen minutes apart when this all started, but now they’re closer to three minutes.”
Georgia grabs my arm in alarm. “Why aren’t you going to the hospital?”
“There’s a massive accident,” I tell her. “The road there is blocked, and all EMS crews are stuck on the scene. Welcome to Maine.”
“Welcome to Maine?!” Georgia screeches incredulously. “Nu-uh. We’re on our way. Lenox just informed me he has a plow. We’re coming now. Whatever you do, do not push until I get there.”
“Right.” Brooklynn pants. “No pushing.”
“Good. We’ll be there soon.” Georgia hits the end button on my phone and then runs into the house, skidding on the hardwood floors in her wet boots and nearly wiping out, only to save herself at the last second and race for the stairs.
What the absolute fuck? Is she actually planning to deliver Brooklynn’s baby?
“Lenox, let’s go!” she yells from somewhere inside.
I guess she is.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and give Alice the whistle that lets her know she needs to get her ass inside. She comes skipping in, kicking snow and sending it flying behind her. I wipe her down with the towel I keep here just as she enters the back door, but then I’m quickly closing and locking everything up and gathering my shit.
“Georgie?!”
“I’m changing and gathering up my stuff. Thank God my friend sent me this box.”
I don’t ask. I just grab my own first-aid kit and gather things like internet boosters and mainstream laptops because I don’t know what sort of videos or internet access we’ll require. That’s how my brain works. Thankfully, Georgia doesn’t require a YouTube tutorial on delivering babies, and within minutes she’s flying down the stairs wearing scrubs with a large bag banging heavily against her side.
I snatch it from her and take her hand, leading her out to the garage and then down and around the corner toward the attached barn, where I keep things like a tractor, my motorcycles, and the large truck with the snowplow.
“How many vehicles do you own?”
“Several.”
“Several,” she mocks me in a deep voice. “Okay, Batman. We get it. You’re super fucking cool and sexy. How do you have so much money again? Something to do with your huge brain and stock markets, was it?”
I shake my head at her as I help her up into the truck, shutting the door behind her and racing around.
“So, the first rule of delivering babies is you do not talk about delivering babies,” she says as I start up the loud engine, pressing the button on the automatic garage door.
“What?” I murmur incredulously, my heart already hammering in my throat, and we’re not even there yet.
“You don’t. I mean, it’s almost bad luck. But I’m excited. I likely shouldn’t be, and I’m obviously nervous too since I’ve never delivered a baby outside of the hospital before and Brooklynn is on the earlier side of being full-term, but fuck do I miss this.
I throw her a side-eye as I back out into the snow, the large tires of this truck rolling over the deep bed of it, flattening it down. I close the bay door and spin the truck around, using the shifters to lower the plow and clear our way out so we can get to Brooklynn.
“If you love it and miss it that much, I will build you a clinic.”
Her breath hitches. “You will?”
