“Catalina says—” His voice cracks. He swallows hard. “Amelia’s water broke.”
My rag stills in my hand, the jukebox humming low in the corner.
Maverick leaps to his feet so quickly that the stool crashes to the floor. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. This is it. This is happening.”
He’s pacing, his hair wild as he runs both hands through it, knocking his hat off onto the floor. “I can’t—I’m not—I don’t know what I’m supposedto do. Reed!”
I set the rag down, voice steady. “Start by getting to the hospital.”
He freezes, then points at me. “Yes! Hospital! Fuck—yes. But—” He’s spinning again, practically vibrating out of his skin. “I can’t go alone. Reed, you gotta come with me.”
“Maverick—”
“I’m serious!” His voice rises higher, sounding desperate. “I’m gonna pass out, forget the diaper bag, or drive to the wrong hospital, and Amelia’s gonna divorce me before we even sign the birth certificate. You’re the calm one. The rational one. You keep me from losing it.”
I sigh, wiping my hands on a towel, but the truth is, I’m already moving for my keys. “You’re a grown man, Hayes.”
“Yeah, well, this grown man’s about to be somebody’s dad, and I’m two seconds away from shitting myself. Get in my car, shitbrick.” He’s already rushing for the door, olive jar still in his hand.
We spill out into the night. Maverick’s already halfway to his truck, clutching that damn olive jar.
He fumbles with his phone as he yanks open the driver’s side door, climbing in. “Cat!” he hollers the second the call connects. “Tell Amelia I’m coming! Reed’s with me, we’re on the road!”
I slide into the passenger seat, buckle my seatbelt, and get comfortable as he starts the engine with a shaky hand. His voice fills the cab, full of nerves and desperation.
On the other end, I can hear Amelia screaming. Not terrified, but furious. Her voice crackles through the speaker.
“MAVERICK HAYES, I’M IN LABOR, AND YOU’RE STILL AT THE BAR?!”
He winces. “Baby, wait, don’t yell, it’s bad for your bloodpressure?—”
“BAD FOR M—?! I WILL KILL YOU WHEN THIS CHILD IS OUT OF ME!”
Maverick’s face twists, but he quickly tries to charm his way out. “Baby, you wanted olives. Please don’t be mad at me, dollface, I’m bringing you olives! Reed saw, tell her, Reed!”
I grunt. “Drive.”
“See?” Maverick points wildly at me, even though Amelia can’t see a damn thing. “He agrees. Olives were essential. I’m a provider.”
Her scream practically rattles the speakers. “I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT OLIVES! BABY, I NEED YOU HERE!”
“Baby! I’m coming!” He fumbles his phone into the cupholder, muttering, “Jesus Christ, she’s hot when she’s yelling at me.” He laughs to himself. “Fuck, I’m gonna have to put another baby in her.”
“Maverick, shut the fuck up and drive.”
His Bronco rumbles down the highway, Maverick’s knee bouncing against the steering wheel, his breathing ragged.
He mutters half-formed sentences—car seat, diapers, what if the baby hates him—but I’m only partly listening.
Because my phone buzzes in my pocket, again.
Layla
I’m excited to see u when i come out again
Fuck.
A grin slowly forms at my mouth, reigniting something I believed was gone. Maverick’s losing his damn mind beside me, but my thoughts are fixated solely on her.
