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I was tempted to tell him to go fuck himself. But since he was a kid, I held my tongue.
Barely.
Van rolled her eyes. “You men are all the same, whether fourteen or forty.”
“I’m eighteen.”
“Same difference.” She snatched her bag and sailed out of the store without checking if I was behind her.
She leaned against the side of my truck, looking far too pale. “I must’ve slept weird or something. My back is literally killing me.” She bent at the waist and took a series of deep breaths while I frowned and tried to figure out what to do.
At a loss, I rubbed her lower back in circles, which I’m sure also provided entertainment to those passing by on the sidewalk or gawking at us from inside the store. She straightened up and fumbled for the bottle of pills she’d bought, taking them dry.
My phone buzzed and I pried it out of my pocket. It was a text from my brother.
Brady: Tab might be in labor.
Maverick: What? How can she be? It’s more than a month too early.
Brady: Yeah, we’re freaking out, but her back is hurting badly & she thinks she’s having contractions. We have a call into her dr. She needs Van & she’s not picking up her phone. Are you with her?
Swallowing hard, I glanced at Van, already aching for her. Hopefully, this was just a false alarm, but she was going to be worried sick for her sister.
I was trying not to be myself.
Mav: Yeah. Are you at your apt? We’ll be there in a few.
Brady: Thanks, man. Look, about this morning.
Mav: Don’t worry about it. Not important. Be right there.
I pocketed my phone and moved closer to Van, taking her by the shoulders. Straight out was best. “That was my brother. He thinks Tab’s in labor.”
Her cheeks got even paler, if that was even possible. “No,” she whispered. “It’s too soon.”
“It may be a false alarm. In fact, I’m sure it is—”
“You don’t know that!” She whirled around, rubbing her back frantically. “We have to go to her. I’m her coach.”
“She’ll be okay.” I rubbed my hands up and down her arms, unsurprised her skin was prickling with goosebumps despite the warm day. Fear had a hold of her, and I wasn’t even sure if she was hearing me right now. Between her concern for her sister and her own lost pregnancy, she had to be a wreck. “We’ll make sure of it.”
“You can’t make sure of it, GQ,” she snapped. “It doesn’t work that way. That nature you’re so fond of decides who lives and who dies.” She swiped at her cheek, and I shut my eyes, hoping like hell she wasn’t crying.
But if she was, she’d shored herself up by the time she turned to face me. Now only banked fire burned in her eyes. “Let’s go. No time for chitchat.”
She yanked open the passenger door of my truck and had hauled herself inside before I’d taken a single step.
Her strength was inspiring—and a little terrifying.
I circled the truck and got in on the other side, quickly starting the engine and reversing out of the space. It was only a couple blocks to Brady’s apartment from here and I made it there in record time, sliding into a spot near the side entrance. Van was already hopping down and jogging inside, not bothering to wait for me.
I wasn’t offended. Her sister needed her.
I followed her upstairs and gripped her shoulders while she waited for someone to answer. She swayed against me as Brady flung open the door, his features tenser than I’ve ever seen them.
“How is she?” Van and I asked at the same time.
Bradyshhed us. “She’s resting in the bedroom. Other than some pretty serious back pain, I think she’s doing better. Her doctor thinks she might’ve been experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions, not actual ones, thank God. It’s just too early.”
