Always her.
reed
. . .
Maverick’s driving like an absolute asshole.
My hand grips the overhead handle as his Bronco fishtails around a corner, the olive jar rattling in the cupholder.
“Slow the hell down,” I growl, bracing my boot against the floorboard.
“I can’t slow down! My wife is in labor, you fuck! Do you want me to miss the birth of my first child?!” He’s white-knuckling the steering wheel, blonde hair falling into his eyes, chest heaving. “Oh my god, what if I do miss it? What if the baby comes in the hallway? What if?—”
“Mav,” I cut in, firm. “She’s fine. Carter and Catalina are with her. Just drive.”
That seems to get through, if only just barely. He eases off the gas — though “eases” for Maverick still means ten over the limit.
His Bronco rattles with his muttering, half-prayers, half-panicked jokes about diapers and baby monitors, until the glow of hospital lights washes over the windshield.
He jerks his SUV into the drop-off lane, slammingit into park before I’ve even unclipped my belt. “Come on, come on, come on,” he chants, vaulting out of the driver’s side.
I follow, calmer, steadier, my boots heavy on the pavement as we push through the sliding doors.
Maverick rushes straight to the nurses’ station, voice loud and commanding. “WHERE’S MY WIFE? Amelia Hayes, she’s in labor, I’m her husband, you gotta take me up right now!”
The nurse barely flinches. She blinks up at him, deadpan. “Sir, if you could just?—”
“No, you don’t understand, I have to be there. She’ll murder me if I’m not. Do you want my wife to murder me?”
“Sir—”
“She’s five-foot-two, but she’s terrifying! She already screamed at me about olives?—”
“Sir.” The nurse’s voice sharpens, clipped with authority. “Take a breath.”
Maverick wheezes, slamming his palm on the counter.
I step up beside him, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder. “He’s the husband,” I say quietly. “He just needs someone to walk him through.”
That finally softens the nurse’s face. She makes a quick call, murmurs something into the phone, and within minutes, a staff member appears to lead him back.
Maverick’s gone in a flash, throwing me one last wild-eyed look before disappearing down the hall.
And then it’s quiet again.
I head toward the waiting area, my boots echoing on the tile. The harsh fluorescent lights make everything seem too bright and too loud in its silence.
Carter and Catalina are already in the lobby; she’s perched on the edge of a plastic chair, fingers knottedtogether, while he stands behind her with one hand resting firmly on her shoulder.
Carter glances up as I approach, his blue eyes steady even in the wash of fluorescent light. “He make it in?”
I nod, lowering into the chair beside Catalina. “They took him back.”
She exhales, a shaky little laugh slipping out. “Good. Amelia’s gonna kill him, but… good.”
I lean back in the chair as the hum of the vending machines fills the space, and for the first time since the night began, I let myself breathe.
The plastic chair groans beneath my weight as I settle back, the sterile hum of fluorescent lights filling the quiet. Carter leans against the wall, arms crossed, his hand still resting on Catalina’s shoulder.
