Page 91 of Kicking Up Dust

“He said he’s been keeping it in his truck.”

That didn’t really make sense, considering some of the things we needed to pack were sort of last minute, like charging cords and toothbrushes and such, but I didn’t press. I had bigger issues to worry about. It’s snowing.

Colt pulls up to the barn in a moment of déjà vu, pushing inside with the most simultaneously worried and excited face. I hate to be the one to let him down, but, “I’m not going anywhere. It’s snowing.”

His face falls slightly.

“Baby, we have to go to the hospital. Your water just broke. The baby’s coming.”

“It’s snowing,” I insist, my bottom lip wobbling as reality starts to hit me. Every bad thing that’s ever happened to me, happened on a day it was raining. Snow is just rain adjacent. Being in a car while it’s coming down is a recipe for disaster, just like it was for my parents.

Colt sighs, reaching up to hold my face in his hands.

“Listen to me, Blair. Nothing bad is going to happen. We have to get to the hospital. It’s barely snowing. The roads are safe. The sooner we leave, the more time I have to get you there and the slower I can drive.”

I’m about to argue with him further when another pain hits. Now that I know they’re contractions, I’m not sure how I ever mistook them for gas pain. Colt tries to pull me toward the truck, but I keep my feet planted, my nails digging into his jacket.

“Just give her a minute. It won’t last long,” I hear Chase telling him.

After the pain passes, I can open my eyes and breathe again and Colt’s worried face is the first thing I see.

“Blair, please don’t fight me on this. Please let me get you to the hospital. If we stay here, there’s a much larger chance something can go wrong.”

“He’s a vet,” I say, pointing at Chase and offering him a view of my vagina as though I didn’t just meet him.

“And you’re not a cow, a horse, a pig, or a goat, so I wouldn’t be much help, I fear,” Chase interjects.

My throat feels thick as I look back at Colt.

“It’s snowing,” I tell him one more time, voice breaking because we both know how this is going to end up.

“I know it is, pretty girl,” he says, pushing my hair out of my face. “But you’re so brave. Chase and Bailey will ride with us. More eyes on the road means more safety, right?”

If Chase or Bailey feels like this is a ridiculous request, neither of them says it. Finally, with a sniffle, I nod.

“Okay.”

FIFTY

COLT

Much to Blair’s surprise, we make it to the hospital and into a room with no issues whatsoever. Now, she’s the calm one and I’m a nervous wreck.

Dr. Abernathy checks on her pretty quickly after she arrives and lets us know she’s seven centimeters dilated. While he washes his hands, he goes over the birth plan they’d discussed at one of her appointments a few weeks ago.

“You’ve opted out of pain management, right?” he asks, from memory apparently. It surprises me at first, but then I remember there’s probably only five pregnant women maximum in the entirety of Cedar Creek right now and he’s been doing this for decades.

“Right,” Blair agrees, still so firm on her choice despite the pain she’s been going through every five-or-so minutes. “I want to be able to move around and choose the position I give birth in based on what feels right.”

The doctor nods. For some reason, I thought we’d barely make it to the hospital in time once her water broke, but things seem to be going much slower than I thought. When the doctor says someone will be back to check on us in an hour, I gape, but he just tells us what button on Blair’s remote turns on the television and leaves.

I try to catch up on the texts in the family group chat, thumbs flying over my phone to reply, but every time I try, another text comes through. I feel like pulling my fucking hair out. I love my family so, so much, but they can be a bit much, and after spending years away from them, I wasn’t used to it anymore.

Mama

Did you take the pregnancy ball? I know you were in a rush. Have her sit on that and see if it helps.

Tate