Chapter 34: : Chapter 33

Seven trips to the bathroom for Chelsea in two hours could be a new record, but according to the looks on Kase’s and Lincoln’s faces, there’s more going on than Chelsea is mentally prepared to admit.

I stride into the formal dining room, which is finally free of boxes, and glance over Kase’s shoulder as he scrawls in a notebook. “Are you monitoring her contractions?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what they are,” he says softly, watching Lincoln guide Chelsea around the living room. She’s been up and down to the point that none of us can ignore what’s happening. “You should let her know that she’s in labor.”

I scoff.

He glances at me over his shoulder. “Not joking. She’s determined to ignore it until she ends up delivering on the sofa.”

“Please do not speak when she’s within earshot,” I murmur, suddenly feeling like Lincoln.

Kase’s face breaks into confusion, and I take off for Chelsea. Lincoln spots me and sends her toward me with a gentle push. I don’t know why this conversation should fall on my shoulders, but according to the notes Kase has been keeping, her contractions are less than seven minutes apart.

Chelsea walks into my chest. Her adorable little nose wiggles around until she ends up in my armpit, and I pat her back. “I think I might be in labor.”

“I agree. Would you like us to gather the hospital bags?” I ask, kissing the top of her head. “We’ve already got the car seat in the SUV.”

Her head shakes, then nods a few moments later. “Yeah, we should begin to monitor my contractions, too, because these bad boys are taking my damn breath away.”

My gaze flies to Kase, and I shake my head while willing him not to mention he’s already been doing that. “Kase will handle it,” I say before he can speak.

“And I’ll run up and gather the bags. Do you want me to snag your favorite pillow too?” Lincoln asks.

Chelsea’s vicious nails dig into my lower back, and she hisses while simultaneously nodding. “Yeah.”

“Time to note a contraction?” I ask as Lincoln grabs his balls and staggers out of the room.

“Yep,” she chokes out, rocking from side to side.

Kase waves a hand, noting he’s got it and begins banging his head gently against the table.

We’ve got Easton, Calder, and Keir on standby to keep Sky, and I’ll need to gather up her food and harness. As well as call to warn them it’s time. We originally discussed having Kase’s mom come over twice a day to spend some time with her, in addition to each of us rotating running home as we could, but having Easton and his team available is preferable.

Sky is well trained, but she’s also ninety pounds, and she gets excited on runs. It seems safer to have them keep her, and it’ll be less of a hassle for Kase’s family pack, since they’re thirty minutes away.

Chelsea lets out a grunt, and I refocus on her once more.

“Would you like me to rub your back?” I ask, feeling more helpless than I’ve felt in my entire life.

“Nope, just let me smell you. That’s all you need to do,” she grinds out.

I run my hand down her spine and pray this entire experience goes smoothly.

“We never even got to complete the preregistration,” Chelsea says, stopping dead in her tracks as we exit the elevator onto the labor and delivery floor.

“They won’t turn us away,” I assure her. “Dr. Webb knows we’re here. Someone from her practice will meet us as soon as the hospital verifies you’re in active labor.” That phone call annoyed me to no end, but Chelsea doesn’t need to know any of that. We’ll quietly find her another doctor after her postpartum checkup. “I have the completed paperwork in my jacket pocket, and we’ll handle payment in full while they get you into a monitoring room.”

“And once they realize your contractions are coming every three-and-a-half minutes, I’ll run down to the car and grab your bag.” Kase smiles and nuzzles his cheek to hers. He’s got his arm around her lower back, and I wish he would give her a helpful push toward the check-in desk.

I need someone more qualified than any of us to check her over immediately. Her contractions took hours to begin to come regularly. Once they did, they jumped from six minutes apart to four, never stopping at five minutes apart, which was supposed to be our indication that it was time to leave.

“I’m still surprised you passed on the wheelchair they offered in the ER,” Linc says, rocking on his heels.

“Sitting in the car was way worse than the walk inside the building,” Chelsea says, finally shuffling forward.

I get myself in gear and scan the signs, holding out an arm to direct them down the hallway to the right. Immediately past the curve, the nurses’ station comes into view, and just past that is a double set of doors.

Chelsea makes it three feet from the desk and pauses, glancing around with a look of horror on her face.

“Oh, God, I think my water just broke,” she says, looking significantly paler than she normally does.

One of the women behind the desk stands, looking over the edge. “You would be surprised how often this happens. Honestly, it’s like two or three times a week. Let me grab one of the nurses. They’ll need to check it.” She glances at one of the other women. “Get her registered and in a bracelet. Dads too.”

Holy shit.

Our daughter really is on her way.