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Track 37
The Last Stretch
Jace
I’ve spent hours in the ER throughout my life due to my own careless injuries, but when you bring in a crying pregnant girl in her third trimester, there is no wait. In fact, a doctor already waits for us by the doors with a stretcher, a nurse, and an assistant who promises to take care of my car for me.
“Royal treatment,” I mutter, helping Juliette onto the stretcher.
“Something like that,” replies the doctor, a middle-aged woman with braided dark hair. “I work with the hospital, but I’m more of a family doctor for—”
“People with cash,” I finish the sentence for her, uncaring if my interpretation is veering on the rude side of things.
“Yes. How are you doing, Juliette?” The doctor measures Juliette’s pulse right there in the lobby.
“I’m a little freaked out,” she admits.
“That’s understandable, but you will be all right.” Then the doctor says to the nurse, “Let’s take her upstairs. My name is Dr. Amhurst, by the way.” That last bit is for me.
“Jace Blackmore. I’m Juliette’s friend.”
“Nice to meet you. Okay, let’s go.”
They wheel Juliette toward the elevators. I freeze on the spot. Shane isn’t here yet. I would call Juliette’s parents too, only they’re in Malaysia for Marina’s work.
“Jace!” Already in the elevator, Juliette has propped herself on an elbow and waves for me to join them.
The doctor holds the doors. “You’re welcome to come along.”
My feet propel me forward, but my mind doesn’t know how to react. I promised Juliette I’d stay with her, but this isn’t my place. She needs Shane or her parents. Anyone but me.
We ride several floors up. Holding Juliette’s wrist, the doctor questions her about the symptoms. She speaks in a calm voice and reassures Juliette once more that everything will be all right. She’d better mean it.
I wipe Juliette’s tears with my thumbs. “Remember, you’re a fighter. You can flatten burly men against the floor. You can definitely make it through having one tiny baby.”
The doctor subdues a laugh, but Juliette doesn’t. It comes out pinched and labored, but still loud. “You have no idea!” Then she drives a weak fist into my hip.
The elevator doors slide open, and Juliette is wheeled into a room. Dr. Amhurst asks me to wait outside for a few minutes while they help Juliette change into hospital clothes. I pace trenches in the shiny linoleum floors, praying, hoping, pleading—
The elevator dings down the hallway and spits out the O’Neal brothers. Shane sees me and runs over.
“Took you long enough!” I exclaim.
“Calm down,” he says, chest heaving. When our eyes meet, it’s clear he’s saying it more to himself than to me.
“She’s inside.” I point at the door. “They’re helping her change.”
He nods, and we both exhale. Graham stands with us, appearing calmer than a lake untouched by the wind. He’s like that. Always stoic.
A few minutes later, we’re invited to come in. Juliette is wrapped in cables, a wide band encircles her belly, and a rapid but steady heartbeat whooshes through a speaker.
“Is that the baby?” I ask. I’ve never heard anything like it—a new, yet unseen life.
“Yes.” Dr. Amhurst smiles at me. “Juliette is fine, but she is in labor. I’m going to bring an ultrasound machine just to double-check everything.”
“You’re in labor?” Shane and I cry out together.
Juliette glares at us. “No. This is a joke.” Her temper has soured even more. Pain does that to people.
