When I enter the front door of our home twenty minutes later, Jenni greets me like she does every time I return home. She's as gorgeous as ever, although she does look tired.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” I run my hand down her face, needing any part of her body on mine. I’ve hardly seen her the past two weeks, and it fucking killed me.
“A little.” She nudges her head to the kitchen where a sullen-faced Noah is hunkered down. “I’m worried about them.”
I pull her to my chest and kiss her head. “They’ll work it out. They’re one of the strongest couples I know. Second only to us.”
She smiles, agreeing with me before guiding me into the kitchen. When we enter, Noah’s dark eyes float up at me. “How’d it go, Noah?”
His shoulders slump even further. “I haven’t talked to her yet.”
“Emily is still sleeping,” Jenni informs me before curling her arms around my waist. “Are you hungry?”
I’m not, but I nod, aware she needs something to distract her from her thoughts while Emily sleeps.
For the next hour, Noah sits on the barstool, not speaking a word. Any time he looks my way, I give him a nod and a quick smirk, wordlessly assuring him it will be okay. Jenni prepares a full breakfast for us, but Noah doesn’t eat a thing. I can imagine how much his stomach is swirling. Mine did the exact same thing only six months ago.
When Jenni finishes stacking the uneaten food in the fridge, she fills the seat next to me and rests her head on my shoulder.
“What are you drinking?” There is a glass of weird-looking tea in front of her.
“A herbal tea a friend made for me.” She screws up her nose. “It’s supposed to help the baby, but it tastes disgusting.”
I laugh when she takes a delicate sip from the tea before gagging. If she hates it so much, why is she drinking it?
Full, tired, and badly jet-lagged, but aware I won’t sleep until I see Noah through his latest crisis like I should have his first two, I decide to take a quick shower. I need to do something to wake me up before I crash.
* * *
I take the fastest shower I’ve ever. We have absolutely no hot water. It was the equivalent of jumping into the ocean in the middle of winter. After changing my clothes and unpacking my suitcase, I stroll into the kitchen. My eyes dart down to my feet when they’re jabbed with something sharp. Confusion makes itself known with my gut when I take in shattered glass and a pink-colored liquid extending from one end of our kitchen to the other.
Before I can work out what it is, a tormented scream rips through my ears. I bolt toward the noise, not at all concerned by the glass cutting my feet. I recognize the scream, except this time, it’s filled with pain instead of euphoria like usual.
Fear clutches my heart when I spot Jenni crouched on the ground, leaning against the refrigerator. She’s cradling her stomach, and her beautiful face is constricted with pain. I freeze for a mere second, panicked out of my mind, before I rush for her.
“Jen, what’s wrong? Is it bub?”
Her tear-filled eyes lift to me, but no words escape her lips. When another scream shreds through her body without warning, I gather her in my arms and race out of the kitchen, ensuring I keep her feet away from the glass.
After carefully setting her on the sofa, I run upstairs to grab my wallet and keys off our bedside table. By the time I make it back downstairs, she’s on her hands and knees halfway down the hallway. My heart slithers into my gut when I spot a trail of blood running down the back of her nightie. With my mind in a dark and tormented place, I gather her in the crook of my arm before hotfooting it to the front door.
“Noah, hurry!” My roar echoes in the crisp morning air, alerting Noah and Emily, who are huddled together on our front lawn to my distress. Emily rushes to Jenni’s side faster than I can snap my fingers.
“It’s too early, Em,” Jenni mumbles to Emily seconds before another ragged scream buckles both my heart and her knees. “He. . . can’t. . . come. . . yet.”
“It’s okay, Jen, babies come early all the time. He’ll be fine. You just need to breathe.” Emily mimics the noises the Lamaze instructor taught us earlier this month while guiding Jenni into the passenger seat of my truck.
“My bag! I haven’t packed my hospital bag,” Jenni grunts between screams.
“Emily will pack your bag, then we’ll bring it to the hospital for you,” Noah offers, stepping forward.
I offer my thanks with a dip of my chin before tossing him my keys. After rounding the bed of my truck, I slide into the driver’s seat, snag my spare key out of the sunglasses compartment, then fire up my old black beast. My mind is so shut down, I’m operating on auto-pilot.
I take off down the street like a maniac, my stomach rolling as effectively as my truck’s tires. My eyes bounce between the road and Jenni as we race toward the hospital. She’s relatively calm. . . until her long, ragged squeals change to a blood-curdling scream.
After weaving between a pair of delivery trucks, I turn to face her. Fear clutches every fiber in my body when I notice her hands are covered in bright red blood. “Hold on, baby.”
I flatten my accelerator until it sits flat on the floor. My truck is old, but her engine is good, meaning we make it to the hospital at a record-setting pace. After mounting the curb outside the maternity department entrance, I rush around to the passenger side. Jenni is as white as a ghost, and the lower half of her nightie is saturated with blood.
