Take My Dare

by J. Kenner

  "You do?"

  "Sure," I say. "People lose their tempers, that doesn't mean they don't love you. But I shouldn't have gotten mad. I know it was an accident. I'm just feeling tired." I turn and look at her, and am thankful to see that she's looking back at me, not wary anymore. "And I feel very, very big, too. Do you want to know a secret?"

  She nods.

  "This baby growing in my tummy is making me a little cranky."

  She licks her lips. "I think you look pretty."

  "And I think you're sweet."

  Her smile widens.

  "Can I tell you another secret?" I ask.

  "Okay."

  "I'm kind of nervous. I've never had a baby before. I really wish I'd been your mommy when you were little, but I'm so glad I have you now. Especially since I don't really know what I'm doing. And I'm going to need you to help me. After all, that's what big sisters do, right?"

  "You really want me to?"

  "Are you kidding? You're going to be just about the most important person in this baby's life."

  "Me?"

  "Absolutely, you. So will you help me?"

  She nods. "I promise."

  "Still hungry? How does mac and cheese sound?"

  When she nods again, I start to get up, but a stabbing paining my middle has me doubling over and falling from the swing's seat into the sand.

  "Mommy!"

  I'm breathing hard, pain radiating through me. "Daddy," I manage to say. "Go get Daddy."

  Her eyes are wide, and she's frozen.

  "For me," I manage to croak. "For your little brother or sister."

  "Brother," she says. "I wanna be the only little girl."

  "We'll see." I smile despite the pain. "Now, go."

  She does, racing across the lawn, her feet churning, her little lungs shouting Daddy! louder than I would have believed she could manage.

  And then I don't see her anymore. Just gray. Just pain.

  Nothing at all until I see Jackson racing toward me, and Ronnie coming up fast behind him.

  Then there's a strange rushing in my ears, and it's not until Jackson reaches my side that I realize it's a helicopter.

  "We're taking you to the hospital," he says, and even my fear isn't enough to ground me. I feel his arms. I feel my tears.

  And after that, I don't feel anything at all.

  Chapter Six

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  Jackson paced the hospital hallway as he ended the call, not sure what he'd just told Nikki, but hoping that he'd made some sort of sense to her.

  But the nurse was there now, standing in front of him, telling him that Sylvia was doing okay. She was calling for him, and they'd let him in the second they could.

  Then she hurried back into the room and he was left standing there taking deep breaths and forcing himself to stay calm. He couldn't lose the baby. Christ, he couldn't lose Sylvia.

  He was functioning right now, but only because he had to. He had to be strong for Ronnie. And he couldn't give in to his fear. But he was afraid--so damn afraid.

  She'd been unconscious for the entire trip to the hospital. Worse, there'd been blood. Not much, but enough to rip him to shreds. His wife. His child. And oh, god, he might lose them both. And he hadn't been able to do a goddamn thing except curse the helicopter for being too slow and the universe for being a bitch.

  It had been worse because he hadn't known anything. The paramedics did their job--he would give them that--but they couldn't tell him anything concrete. Only that he had to talk to the doctors. Only that he had to wait.

  He was still waiting.

  No. He at least knew the situation now. Knew that they had her stabilized. Knew that they were doing what they could for her and for the baby.

  But was it enough?

  Oh, dear god, it had to be enough.

  He drew in a breath, the doctor's words a jumble in his head. All Jackson had really understood was that Syl had gone into early labor. That wasn't a bad thing in and of itself, but the cord was around the baby's neck, and she was too far along for a C-section. As for the bleeding and the way she passed out--well, that was something Jackson couldn't wrap his mind around. But he knew from the doctor's expression--and from the fact that they wouldn't let him in the goddamn room--that it was serious.

  Oh, Christ. Oh, Christ.

  "Daddy?"

  He sank down onto the couch and pulled Ronnie to him, hugging her tight, taking some small comfort in the feel of his daughter in his arms.

  "I'm sorry."

  Something in her voice told him that she wasn't just sympathizing with him, but that she was apologizing. "Sorry? Sweetie, what are you sorry for?"

  Big tears fell from her eyes to plop on her jeans. "It's my fault. 'Cause I wanted to be the baby. And 'cause I made Mommy mad and that hurt her tummy."

  "No." He pulled her close, then hugged her tight. "Baby, you didn't do anything bad." If anything, he should have insisted she go to the hospital because she'd been feeling so tired. Maybe if he had...

  He shook the thoughts away. No time for self-recrimination now. He had to be strong for Syl. For Ronnie. For the baby.

  He held tight to his daughter's arms, focused on her face, wanting her to understand. "You're the one who got her help, remember? That's good, baby. You did really, really good."

  He couldn't tell if she was convinced or not, but as he started to ask her another question he saw the nurse hurrying toward him. He leaped to his feet, clutching Ronnie's hand as he did. "Syl," he demanded. "The baby."

  His chest was too tight to get out any other words. All he could do in the infinity that stretched out before she answered was wait and hope.

  "It's okay. They're fine. Your wife and your baby are fine."

  He'd never felt such a palpable relief. The way it swept through him, taking every bit of strength with it, as if he'd used it all up fighting to stay steady. He reached out, grabbing the wall with his free hand so that he wouldn't tumble to the ground, and by sheer will alone he managed to right himself.

  "They're okay? Really?"

  The nurse's expression lit up. "I promise, Mr. Steele. They're fine." She swept her hand toward the door, and then reached down for Ronnie. "What do you say we go first? Show your daddy that your mommy and baby brother are doing just fine."

  Brother.

  "I have a son?" Jackson asked, as the nurse looked up at him, beaming, her smile just about lighting the hallway.

  "Yes, Mr. Steele. You have a son."

  "Mommy!"

  I'm exhausted and sore and I don't think I've ever been happier as I hold my son while my daughter skips toward my bed, Jackson behind her looking as tired and as happy as I feel. As if he's been through a battle zone, and come out victorious on the other side.

  But then again, he has. And it would have been worse for him. I was occupied by the pain and the doctors. And now, all the manipulations they did to my body, are fading thanks to the lingering effects of the drugs, leaving me with a happy afterglow and a baby in my arms.

  But Jackson had been out in that hall all alone without a clue as to what was happening even though I had begged for him to be with me.

  They'd refused, pissing me off in the process. But now that the baby is here and he's safe, I have to admit I'm pretty much willing to forgive anything.

  Now, Ronnie scrambles up onto the bed, and I do my best not to wince. She leans over me and peers at the tiny boy in the blue blanket. Jackson stands at the bed, too, and though I expect him to say something, all he does is look at me and our baby with an expression that is as close to rapture as I've ever seen.

  "Is that my brother?"

  "That's him," I say. "All six pounds four ounces of him."

  "I'm sorry, Mommy."

  I use my free hand to push her hair off her face. "You don't have a thing to be sorry about. You were absolutely perfect, and I love you desperately. In fact," I add with a sly grin, "you're my very favorite daughter."

  She giggles. "I love you, M
ommy."

  "I know you do, sweetie."

  "Can I still help with the baby?"

  "You better," I say. "I need your help, just like I told you. I have a feeling this little guy is going to keep us busy." I glance up at Jackson. "He's a fighter," I say. "A survivor."

  He nods, and I watch as his face comes alive and his smile breaks free. "He takes after his mom," he says softly, his voice breaking only at the end. "Oh, god, Syl. I thought--"

  I shake my head and reach for his hand. "No. Please. Everything's good." I glance at the baby. "Perfect, even."

  "Perfect," Jackson repeats.

  "Do you want to hold him?" I ask, and Jackson reaches down very gently to pick up the precious bundle. He peers at our son's tiny face, then inspects the little fingers. When he looks back at me, his expression is full of awe.

  "Do you know how much I love you?"

  "Of course I do," I say. "I always have."

  We stay that way for what feels like forever, lost in each other's eyes, our newborn son between us. Then Ronnie bounces on the bed, breaking the spell and making me laugh.

  "What's his name, Daddy? What's his name?"

  Jackson looks at me, for confirmation before saying, "Jeffery Michael Steele." And he says it with such firm authority that I wonder how we could have ever debated any others. Because that is so very clearly our little boy's name.

  "Welcome to the family, Jeffery," I say.

  "We love you," Ronnie adds, clutching my hand. I squeeze hers tight, my eyes on Jackson and our son.

  I yawn and my eyelids droop as exhaustion takes its toll. It has, after all, been a very long day.

  And then, finally, I drift off to sleep, surrounded by the three people I love most in all the world, and knowing that tomorrow, a new kind of adventure begins.

  The End

  Don't miss Anchor Me, the fourth book in The Stark Trilogy!

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