“No, I saw you stagger when you left.” He hooks his hands under my arms to hold me up. “So I followed—okay, so yeah, I followed you but only because I was worried.”
Blake would hate this. I need to get in touch with Brae. I push off of Trip, but it’s weak. “I’m okay. I just need to get ho—”
Warm moisture drops from between my legs, slowly bleeding down my inner thighs and soaking my yoga pants.
I tilt my head back and stare into Trip’s worried blue eyes. “My water just broke.”
Seventeen
Blake
“Thank you for choosing FlyWest, and welcome to Las Vegas.” The stewardess’ announcement couldn’t come soon enough. I’ve been crazed with getting back home to Layla to tell her about the breakthrough I had with my dad over the weekend.
After a long-drawn-out conversation last night, we ordered pizza and sat around while my parents listened to me talk. I told them about my music room and how long I’d had it hidden and explained that Layla was the first person I let in and how we fell in love. I gave them all the details that they didn’t know about Stew’s arrest and my legally adopting Axelle. It was midnight before I noticed how tired they both looked and insisted we finish in the morning.
And we did over breakfast.
They’re planning on coming to town when the baby is born. My dad is still healthy enough to travel, but my guess is if he chooses not to get treatment, this’ll be the last time he comes to visit.
The plane taxis to our gate, and my leg is thumping double time with the urge the break out of here. I texted my brother before we took off, telling him that it was on time, and he said he’d be waiting at the curb.
With my woman.
I lick my lips with anticipation, hoping we have the condo to ourselves for a few hours so I can show Layla just how much I missed her. Nothing sounds better than stripping down and holding her to me. There’s no better feeling in the world than having a naked Layla in my bed. It’s not even about the sex; although, when we get naked, that’s pretty much inevitable.
The fasten seatbelt sign is off, and I’m up and hunched over in the tiny aisle as the people filter from the plane. Once in the airport, I power walk past the baggage claim and through the sliding glass doors.
My eyes scan left, right, but I don’t see the Rubicon. I check my phone. I’m ten minutes late. Maybe they drove around and are coming back—
“Blake!”
I whirl around toward Axelle’s voice.
She’s stepping out of an old Jeep Wrangler. That’s Killer’s car. Why the hell is he picking me up?
“Hey, kiddo!”
She runs up to me, and the closer she gets, the clearer I can see the panic in her eyes. “It’s Mom. She’s in labor.”
My heart drops into my stomach, adrenaline floods my veins, and my hands fist at my sides. “What!”
“Come on. I’ll explain in the car.”
We jog to Killer’s Jeep, and Axelle jumps in the back while I hop in the front. “Talk. Now.”
“I was home and Braeden was waiting for mom to get home.”
“Home from where? Why wasn’t Brae with her?”
“I don’t know. But he got a call from some guy who said he was with Mom and she’d gone into labor.”
I turn my body around as much as I can and face Axelle. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“Mom went into labor at The Venetian, and some guy she was having coffee with took her to the hospital.”
My eyes squint so hard they twitch. Anger settles deep in my gut as I make a mental list of who I’m going kill first: Braeden, then this asshole who has my woman, and then after Layla’s finished birthing our baby, she’s got some fucking explaining to do. Why the hell didn’t she stay with my brother as I fucking asked her to?
“Don’t go there, man.” Killian’s voice calls over to me even though his eyes are on maneuvering us through the Vegas streets. “She’s with your brother now. I’m sure she can explain.”
He’s right, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want some fucking answers.
“Oh my God, we’re having a baby!” Axelle’s high-pitched squeal and her grip on my shoulder ignite my excitement.
Fuckin A. We’re having a baby. “Drive faster, Killer.”
“Got it.” He lays heavy on the gas and soon we pull up to the emergency entrance of the hospital.
My heart pounds in my chest to the point that I’m dizzy. It wasn’t long ago I walked through these same doors the day Sadie was born. How Jonah held himself together through that, I’ll never know.
We all jump from the Jeep and jog to the front desk.
“Layla Moorehead. She’s in labor. We’re her family.” Axelle’s practically jumping.
“Hey, you can’t park your car there,” a security guard says and moves toward us.
The front desk nurse glances up at us. “Room 323, Labor and Delivery.” She stands and leans over the desk. “It’s right down—”
“Thank you!” Axelle calls out her gratitude from behind me as I’m halfway down the hallway.
“Hey, the car!” The security guy must be talking to Killer.
I hear him toss the keys and the sound of them hitting the tile floor. “Here, keep ’em!”
Axelle and Killer catch up to me as we zigzag our way through the hospital, following the signs and arrows that lead us to Labor and Delivery.
We rush up to another desk with a young nurse sitting behind it. “Hi, I’m Blake Daniels, here for Layla. I’m the father.”
Her eyes brighten. “Oh, yeah. They’re expecting you.” She hits a few keys on her computer. “You can go on back.”
“Thanks.” I turn to Axelle, who nods, a huge grin on her face. “This is it, kiddo. We’re having a baby.”
She nods again and claps her hands. “Okay.”
I kiss the top of her head.
“A-Axelle?” A man’s voice calls from a small couch in the waiting room.
We swivel our heads in unison toward the voice.
Older guy, dark hair, decent size. He takes a tentative step toward her, his eyes wide in shock. I can’t explain why, whether it’s the eerie way he’s staring at my girl, or the strange familiarity of his face, but tension scents the air.
She leans into me ever so slightly. “Do I know you?”
The man blinks a few times and moves closer.
“Stop right there.” The low growling command comes from Killer, who’s now flanking Axelle on her other side.
The guy stops, his gaze bouncing between the three of us as if he can’t figure out what to make of us.
“Who the fuck are you?” If he knows Axelle, I have to assume that this douchebag knows Layla.
“You must be Blake.” He tilts his head, studying me.
He’s not in bad shape, about my height, maybe a few inches shorter. He looks as if he’s probably one of those outdoorsy guys who hike and swim laps. If push came to shove, I’d destroy the pansy.
I take step toward him, and he doesn’t back down. Gotta give him credit for that. “You know me. I’ll give you one more chance to tell me who the fuck you are and why you’re addressing my daughter like you know her.”
“Your daughter.” He laughs in a way that’s less humor more teasing.
I shove him hard, and he rocks back on one foot.
“Blake.” Braeden pushes through the double doors, appearing in my peripheral vision. “Stop.” He steps between us, his back to me. “Trip, man, back the fuck off my brother. I told you to go home.”
Trip? Why does that name sound familiar?
The guy, Trip, motions to Axelle. “I just wanted to meet my daughter.”
A gasp flies from Axelle’s lips a second before Killer descends. His fist flies, cracking Trip in the jaw and knocking him on his ass.
“Killian!” Axelle rushes up and attempts to grab him from behind.
He holds her back, gently, but firmly. “You fucking dare show your face around he
re, motherfucker!” Killer charges again, this time caught up by Brae.
“Calm down!” He jerks Killer hard. “You hear me? Stand the fuck down. This is not helping Layla.”
My eyes move between a stunned Axelle and a dazed Trip. Holy shit . . . she looks just like the guy. Prettier, more feminine, but yeah, that’s her biological father.
Oh hell no!
A guttural roar rumbles from my chest and I lunge. “You sick son of a bitch!” I slam my fist into his jaw, making contact with a sickening crack. “You’ve been snooping.” Another solid hit to his jaw. “Shoulda’ stayed away.” I throw another punch, but I’m pulled back by Killer and Brae before I make contact. I thrash, trying to break free, fear and anger swirling in my blood to destroy the man who raped my woman. The man who’s been digging around through birth records and now stalking my family.
“We got this, bro. We’ll take care of him.” Brae yells in my ear. “Don’t get escorted out of here and miss the birth of your baby, man. Get your shit together and go help your woman!”
“Don’t let that motherfucker go,” I growl.
“Got it. Now go.” Brae shoves me off toward the door.
I glare at the bleeding piece of shit on the floor and point right at him. “I’m not even close to being done with you.” I hook an arm around a whimpering Axelle. “Come on, kiddo. The boys’ll deal with him. Let’s go bring our baby into the world.”
Eighteen
Layla
“As soon as the doctor gets here, we’ll start pushing.” Danita, my nurse who’s been here with me since I checked in, squeezes my hand and gives me a kind smile.
I nod, exhausted, in pain, and incapable of speech.
Why in the holy hell did I refuse the drugs? I wanted to experience labor since I didn’t get to when I had Axelle. I’d read so many birthing books that didn’t make it sound this hard. Fucking liars! My lower back muscles have been in a constant state of contraction, and my womb is not far behind.
Danita holds my hand between hers, her head turned to the monitor. “Here comes another one, Layla.”
I want to roar, “No shit, I can feel it!” but instead roll my lips between my teeth and prepare.
She leans down and fixes her eyes with mine. “Relax. Focus. Now breathe.”
My fingers grip the edge of the bed as another wave of contractions hits me hard. Every muscle in my abdomen pulls tight, tighter, so tight they feel twisted, as if they’re about to break or rip right through my skin. I bite down, holding back the moan of agony that pushes at my throat.
“Almost done. Keep breathing. You’re doing great.”
I gasp for air. Having forgotten to breathe, my head feels light. Sweat breaks out over my skin. My eyes pinch closed. God, make it stop.
“Layla, shit . . .”
I open my eyes to Blake, who’s standing on the other side of the bed, Axelle at his side.
Just seeing them here causes tears to spring free from my eyes, and a guttural sob rips from my chest.
Blake moves in, grabbing my other hand and pulls it to his chest before burying his face in my neck. “Sh, sh . . .” His lips move against my skin, small kisses between his talking. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you. Sh . . .”
Slowly the contraction fades, and I take a long deep breath of relief and try to sink back onto the bed.
“Blake, right?” Danita smiles warmly at him.
He straightens but doesn’t release my hand while he rubs circles against my skin nervously. “Yeah, yes. Blake.”
If I weren’t so tired, I’d smile.
“Nice to meet you.” Her gaze swings to Axelle. “And you must be the big sister.”
“Yes, Axelle.” She throws up a tiny finger wave.
“Axelle, why don’t you come take my spot. You guys got here just in time for her to push.” Danita places my sweaty hand into Axelle’s, and I grin up at my daughter as she peers down at me.
Her eyes sparkle with tears, but they’re red, as if she’s been crying.
I pull her hand up and kiss it. “Honey? I’m okay.” I regard Blake, who’s staring intently at Axelle. Something passes between them. “Guys, I’m fine.” My eyes narrow on Blake. “What’s going on?”
He seems to shake off whatever it was he was thinking, and his soft stare bores into mine. “Besides the fact that we’re having a baby?” A tiny smile curls his lips.
Did Braeden tell Blake about Trip? I made him promise he wouldn’t until after the baby is born so I could tell him myself. No, surely Brae wouldn’t do that to his own brother.
The sound of voices at the door makes me glimpse over to see Danita putting on a long gown, rubber gloves, and a mask. “Doctor’s here.” I can’t see her mouth, but the smile in her eyes says it all.
It’s time to have the baby.
I grip Blake’s and Axelle’s hands tighter, excitement and absolute terror warring behind my ribs.
“Aw shit,” Blake growls. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” His hand gets tight.
I look up and follow his gaze to the entrance of my room where Dr. Cole is standing, shaking his head.
“. . . another contraction . . .” A random nurse mumbles.
“Mr. Daniels, it seems the fates are against you.” Dr. Cole moves into the room, already dressed in scrubs, and a few nurses busy to get him in a gown while he pulls on gloves.
A low groan vibrates from Blake’s chest, and I yank on his arm. It’s weak, but it’s enough to get his attention. “Blake, it’s okay. Let’s just—Argh!”
The contraction grips me from what seems like out of nowhere. “Holy shit . . .” I squeeze their hands, and the doctor takes his place along with the nurses. I’m lost in the pain of my contraction but feel my legs being placed into stirrups and the heat of a warm light between my legs.
I don’t need to look at Blake to know he’s probably shooting daggers at the doctor who has a front row seat to every damn thing between my legs. Oh well, he can get the fuck over it, or he can push a human out of his body if he wants a say.
A low groan rolls from my chest out my mouth, and Blake jerks then swings his eyes to mine.
“Breathe, baby . . .” His tender voice combined with the feel of his hot breath against my neck calms me a little, even though my womb is still intent on squeezing this baby out.
“Alright, guys,” Dr. Cole addresses Axelle and Blake. “When it’s time to push, I want you to hook your elbow beneath the leg you’re standing closest to. Pull it back and count with us.”
Axelle nods. “Okay.”
Blake tightens his glare aimed back at the doctor.
The doc rolls his eyes and focuses his attention down low. “Alright, Layla, I can feel the baby’s head. When this next contraction hits, I want you to push, okay? Don’t push with your face. Push with your abdomen, got it?”
I nod and try to relax during my brief reprieve.
“Blake, are you good?” I can’t put my finger on it, but something seems off about him. It’s not the interaction with the doctor; it’s something else. He looks . . . sick.
He turns his pale face to me, licks his lips, and nods.
“I can’t believe this!” Axelle’s voice is laced with pure joy and excitement. “I’m getting a brother or sister today!”
I squeeze her hand, but as the tightening creeps up, I can already tell this one is going to be huge. My eyes find Dr. Cole’s, and he checks the monitor and then nods. “Here it comes, Layla. You ready?”
Blake and Axelle hook an arm under each of my knees, and at the doc’s okay, they both pull back as the contraction shreds through me. I push, hard, as I’ve never pushed before because I know the second I get this baby out the sooner I can be done.
“Good, push . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . .” Everyone in the room counts in unison.
There’s a fullness between my legs, a burning, stretching sensation. Every muscle, even my neck and fingers, get wobbly with the force of my strain.
>
“Good, Layla, keep pushing.” The doctor busies his hands between my legs, but I can’t see what he’s doing beyond my belly.
The contraction fades, and I crash back into the bed.
“Looks like you’ve got a tow head.” Danita rubs my foot soothingly.
“That’s some pretty blond baby hair.” Dr. Cole says and then glances up at the monitor.
“Wait, what?” Blake’s eyes pass among everyone who is getting the VIP show to my vagina, looking for clarification. “Hair?”
They nod, and Dr. Cole, after a few beats of silence, motions for Blake to go see. “Yeah, come take a look.”
Blake kisses my hand and then my forehead, silently asking permission for him to leave me.
“Yes, go see our baby.”
~*~
Blake
I move around Layla, stunned, wobbly, and—fuck, I’m dizzy. I blink and stand over the doctor’s shoulder while a masked nurse takes my old spot at Layla’s knee.
Blinking, I stare between Layla’s legs, and—oh wow—I suck in air through my mouth and lock my knees to keep them from shaking.
They weren’t kidding. Coming out of my woman’s body, which now looks very little like what I’m used to seeing, is the top of a head, blood-smeared and covered in some kind of guck with a mess of golden hair. Even though it looks like something out of a horror flick, warmth swells behind my ribs.
“Here comes another one, Layla.” Dr. Cole, who under the circumstances is as cool as a fucking cucumber, gently pulls at the skin around the baby’s head. “Get ready to push. Give me all you can, okay? We’re almost there.”
“Oh, God . . .” Layla’s whimpered words dissolve on a growl as she bears down. Axelle and the nurse bring her knees to her armpits.
My stomach tumbles, and I’m locked on the tiny head that slowly emerges from her body, inch by inch, until—my leg gives, but I lock it out and avoid bracing myself against the doc’s back.
Lord knows he’s got enough to deal with.
“Mom, breathe.” Axelle coaches her mom, who listens by blowing out a long breath before sucking it back in and grunting through a push.
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