Breathing.
Trigger squeeze.
Marksmanship. The fundamental techniques were fascinating.
Eye dominance— standing, kneeling, or prone. All the online tutorials promised thatexcellence didn’t have to be innate. It could be learned.
And Sam was an excellent student.
38
The evening after the meeting, Rowan reluctantly, but without resistance, moved into the O’Faolain building. She understood the gravity of the situation and wouldn’t make it harder on MacGregor and his guards to watch the families. No one really thought Delton had followed them to Ireland. It had been a shock to realize their error.
Rowan had settled into a guest room on the first floor. She seemed more comfortable around his dad now, laughing and even teasing occasionally. It was forced. Rowan was definitely trying to lighten the mood between them by pretending that Hugh O’Faolain was just a great friend. Family by marriage. For his father’s part, every generic smile she threw his way produced clenched fists.
River told Patrick to let them work it out. Apparently, Dad had told Rowan they would never have a relationship. It had crushed her, so she was trying to get over him. Apparently, the new cringey interactions were supposed to resemble ‘getting over it.’
Everyone went to bed early. It’d been a long couple of days— very emotional days for River. She could have left him again over that photo album. Instead, she still wanted forever. Patrick had just wrapped his arm around her waist to draw her closer to his heat when both their phones performed a choreographed light show.
They both lunged for their phones. “Raven’s in labor!” River gasped. They both threw off the bed covers and rushed to dress. As they hustled out the front door, Patrick could hear his brother shouting directions, presumably not at his wife.
The first floor— it should be called the Lobby, which made more sense to Patrick— was chaos. Bran wasliterallyrunning around. River immediately went to Raven, who was sitting on a couch, clutching her stomach and grimacing. Then Rowan was there beelining to the sisters. His dad got off the elevator, approaching the scene with caution.
While Bran was haranguing someone about wanting an SUV— apparently more comfortable for his wife, who WAS IN LABOR— Patrick called MacGregor. The plan was to mobilize his guards at the hospital. Plus, the sisters wanted Jo there. He then called Nan and asked if she and Devlen were ready to be great-grandparents. Nan screamed, probably scaring her fiancé to death.
In the meantime, Dad corralled Bran near the bar. “Son. Take a deep breath. I’ll make sure we get the right car for Raven. Your agitation is making her more agitated. Now,” Dad began with a firm thump to Bran’s back that knocked him forward a step, “pretend to have your shit together and go sit with your wife.” Bran nodded several times. The jerky nature of his bobbing head was bizarre. He did at least manage to do as Dad suggested. Bran and Raven both visibly relaxed when he sat by her on the couch, rubbing her back.
“Good call, Dad. Bran was going off the rails at an impressive speed,” Pat said.
Dad was back to looking at his phone screen, something he’d been doing since he came down, but at Pat’s comment, he finally put it back in his pocket,
“I remember when you boys were born. Scariest days of my life. One day, you’ll discover what it’s like to become a father,” he smirked.
Patrick glanced at River, wondering what it would be like if they had a baby someday. Incredible but terrifying. Shaking his head at the thought, he told his dad, “I called MacGregor and Nan. Will you call Gran or wait until morning?”
His father grunted in amusement. “I called her before I came down. Christ, boy, mom would have my head if I waited. Diana immediately called her pilot.”
* * *
Waiting was torture.The waiting room was currently full of family and guards. River and Rowan paced the white tiled floors, waiting for an update. Months ago, she and her sisters discussed that only Bran would be at the birth. Everyone one hundred percent understood, but it didn’t mean it didn’t suck knowingnothingfor solong.
Okay, they’d only been waiting thirty minutes, but still! Raven’s water had broken on the way to the hospital, and her contractions ramped up hard and fast. The nurse who met them at the sliding doors took one look at Raven and started barking orders, sat Raven in a wheelchair, and rushed off. River didn’t even get to say goodbye, damn it.
“What in the hell is taking so long?” Rowan hissed at River.
“No shit,” River agreed.
“Girls, for heaven’s sake, sit down. You three are so attuned to one another, Raven can probably feel your stress from the birthing room,” Nan snapped.
River and Rowan smirked at one another. Nan was obviously just as stressed. River caught Patrick’s eye and shrugged. She wouldn’t apologize for her Auntie Anxiety. Hugh was gloomy, arms crossed, chair balancing on its back legs. Brooding over the birth of his first grandchild or Rowan? Both? Anyone’s guess, really.
“Come lean on me for a minute, Riv,” Patrick said, patting his legs. Grinning, River touched Rowan’s hand in passing as she went to snuggle on Pat’s lap.
“I’m just so worried for Raven and excited to be an aunt. I can hardly stand it.” Softly laughing, River lightly kissed Patrick.
“If you think Bran would allow anything bad to happen to his wife or son, you haven’t been paying attention,” Patrick teased, earning a smile from Nan and a nod from Hugh. Pat nudged River’s side. “HB’s here, which means Jo is probably bundled up inside his coat.” He said this loud enough for everyone to hear, earning a disapproving look from MacGregor and laughter from Jo, who peeked around her guard’s massive shoulder.
River jumped off Patrick, and she and Rowan tackled the golden-haired beauty. “We’re about to become aunties. Can you believe it?” Rowan laughed, a genuine laugh, not Hugh-approved mirth, thank God.
