Keep Me

by Piper Scott

  7

  Harrison

  Harrison’s phone vibrated against the surface of his bedside table, and he jostled awake. Wide-eyed, he grabbed the phone and answered the call. It was from Nathaniel.

  “Hello?”

  “Harry?” Nathaniel sounded frightened, but Harrison’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing the soft utterance of his name.

  “It’s me,” Harrison said. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and checked time. It was just after two in the morning. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay,” Nathaniel said. “It’s Dylan. I think he’s going into labor.”

  Harrison was out of bed in an instant. He crossed the room and pulled his dresser open as he spoke. “How long ago did the contractions start?”

  “He doesn’t know. He was sleeping. A big one woke him up maybe half an hour ago.”

  “And how far apart are they?”

  “They keep getting shorter and shorter apart.” Desperation edged Nathaniel’s words. “He’s had four so far. One about fifteen minutes after he woke up, and then three since then.”

  Using one hand, Harrison tugged up a pair of pants and zipped his fly. “Did you call Alma, the midwife I arranged to have on scene for the delivery?”

  “Not yet,” Nathaniel said. “I wanted to call you first because… because I did.”

  Harrison smiled. “I’m on my way right now, I promise, but you need to call Alma too, alright? We’re a team. Since Dylan doesn’t want doctors there, it’s important she’s there.”

  “I understand,” Nathaniel said. “It’s not fake contractions, is it?”

  “It could be,” Harrison said. “Make sure you monitor it and keep him calm. Work him through some breathing exercises. I’ll be there as soon as I can. There shouldn’t be traffic to hold me back.”

  “Okay.” Nathaniel hesitated. “I need to call Alma now, but um, thank you. Thank you for being here for us. It… it means a lot.”

  Harrison parted the phone from his ear long enough to pull a t-shirt over his head. He was already on his way out the door when he replied. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I’ll see you and Dylan soon, Nathaniel.”

  Nathaniel hesitated again, then said, “You can call me Nate.”

  Harrison hadn’t had much time to get to know Dylan, and he regretted it. The stress of delivery was tough enough without strangers there, especially when the expectant parent was the victim of sexual trauma. Unfortunately, the circumstances hadn’t allowed for anything else.

  Harrison climbed the stairs behind Five Pie and was about to knock on the apartment door when it opened. Nathaniel stood there, his face drawn with concern. The look alone made Harrison want to do everything in his power to make things right. No matter what, he’d make sure Dylan made it through the process as best he could.

  “Where is he?” Harrison asked gently as Nathaniel took his hand and drew him into the apartment. The touch sent shivers down Harrison’s spine. Today, there was something different about Nathaniel’s scent—something fuller and more satisfying, if that was possible. Harrison didn’t want to leave his side.

  “He spent the last hour pacing,” Nathaniel replied. “Just going room to room. Right before you came, he settled in the bathroom.”

  “In the tub?” Harrison asked.

  Nathaniel nodded.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Harrison promised. He squeezed Nathaniel’s hand, hopeful that Nathaniel’s affection wasn’t solely based in fear. He’d let go of the gaff of a kiss on the street corner, and he hoped that Nathaniel had, too. “It’s natural. In fact, it’s a good sign he picked a spot. He’s listening to what his body wants, and often that’s the best course of action.”

  “Alma said she would be here soon,” Nathaniel said. “Is it going to be okay? If something happens, you can take care of him on your own?”

  “Nothing’s going to happen. Birth takes a while.” Harrison wanted nothing more than to kiss the side of Nathaniel’s head and draw him into his arms to tell him everything would be okay, but he had a job to do. First and foremost, he was a doula. Dylan needed him the most right now. “Can I go see him?”

  “I’ll ask,” Nathaniel said. He parted his hand from Harrison’s and made his way across the living room and down a short hallway where he knocked on a closed door. Slowly he opened it, then slipped inside. He was only gone for a few seconds before he returned and waved at Harrison, inviting him to approach.

  Harrison did.

  The door led into a bathroom. Bright light lit the tiny room, spilling out into the dark hall. Dylan was in the tub, undressed, with a towel draped across his lap. Uncle Martin sat on the edge of the tub, controlled panic on his face. Dylan, who was typically stoic and distant, was clearly afraid. He stroked at his belly a little too quickly, his inhalations short and staccato.

  “Hi Dylan,” Harrison said as he crossed the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the tub opposite Uncle Martin, right near Dylan’s head. “I heard you might have started going into labor.”

  “Yeah,” Dylan said, airy. “It hurts. It’s… it has to be labor.”

  “That’s okay,” Harrison said. He reached down, and Dylan latched onto his hand without a second thought. Maybe their connection wasn’t as shot as Harrison originally thought. “It’s not going to last forever, and when it’s done, you’ll have your baby. You’ve waited so long for this.”

  “I have,” Dylan murmured. He swallowed, and his hand stopped caressing his belly. “I… I’m going to be a mother.”

  “You are. And all of us are going to be here with you, supporting you along the way.” Harrison squeezed Dylan’s hand and ran his thumb fondly along the back of it. The change in Dylan’s attitude was near instant. He relaxed, letting his head rest against the tile of the bathroom wall.

  “Remember when talked about birthing options?” Harrison asked gently. “Did you want us to run the water for you to have a water birth?”

  Dylan’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head. When they’d discussed it before, he’d been concerned about the baby drowning by mistake, even though it would probably be easier on Dylan. Harrison had given him some literature about it – when a baby goes from the water of the womb to the water of a tub, there’s no risk of drowning because he hasn’t taken his first breath yet – but he wasn’t going to push the subject.

  “That’s fine,” Harrison said. “Nate, can you please get him a pillow? Maybe a couple. Something you don’t mind getting rid of. It can’t be comfortable to sit on the cold tub floor, can it?”

  “It’s not so bad,” Dylan said. He turned his head to look up at Harrison, his hazel eyes hauntingly reminiscent of Nathaniel’s. “But pillows would be nice. It—”

  Dylan squeezed Harrison’s hand hard and clenched down on his jaw. Another contraction. Harrison checked the time on his watch and memorized it. When Alma arrived, he hoped to give her an accurate read on how far apart Dylan’s contractions were.

  “You’re doing great,” Harrison said softly. Speaking in an even voice was important, and so was keeping positive. There was enough chaos involved with a delivery without adding any extra stress. Part of Harrison’s job was to do away with as much of that chaos as he could. “Work it out. That’s it. Every contraction brings you one step closer to holding your baby.”

  “I want her,” Dylan choked out, almost sobbing it. As far as Harrison knew, it was the first time he’d called the baby anything but ‘it’. “I want to hold her. I want her.”

  “She’s coming,” Harrison promised. “She’s on her way, and she’s working as hard as you are. You’re doing a fantastic job.”

  He looked across the room to find Nathaniel perched atop the lidded toilet, watching them in silence. His expression was distant and dreamy, far different than Uncle Martin’s uncertain fear. It was the kind of look that made Harrison think that maybe they had a chance after all.

  “It hurts,” Dylan squeezed harder, grunting and pulling his knees to
his chest. Harrison looked away from Nathaniel, startled. If Dylan was still suffering from his first contraction, it was irregularly long. If this was a second contraction…

  Harrison studied Dylan’s body language. His knees were bent and raised, and it looked like he was straining. His breathing patterns, short and rapid, were troublesome. Was he further along in his labor than any of them knew?

  “You need to breathe for me, Dylan,” Harrison instructed. His thumb stroked Dylan’s hand, offering support. “Remember how we did it back at my office? You need to breathe for your little girl. We’re going to do it together, alright? Count with me. One. Two…”

  As Harrison breathed in, Nathaniel’s scent filled his lungs and clouded his mind.

  “Three. Four.”

  The exhale was like parting from a lover. Harrison’s lungs screamed for more. He knew he needed to focus on Dylan, but the only omega in his heart was Nathaniel. He’d fallen fast and hard.

  “Pillows, Nate,” Harrison reminded him softly. “Please. Your brother needs them. We want him to be comfortable.”

  “Right,” Nathaniel said. The bathroom door creaked as he left the room, and it creaked again when he returned. One by one, he handed old pillows to Harrison, and Harrison fitted each of them into place. Dylan’s body was hot, and his hair had begun to stick to his head from the physical exertion of labor. It wasn’t typical for a first pregnancy to go so quickly.

  “You’re doing great,” Harrison reminded him. He drew Dylan’s damp hair away from his forehead. “Will you get me some wet cloths, Nate?”

  “I’ll go,” Uncle Martin said. He got up from the side of the tub. “Is that okay, Dylan?”

  “Yes,” Dylan said. It was good to hear him so certain about something. Harrison remembered the battered omega who’d come into his office on that first day. The pain had changed him, and he hoped that the promise of new life was enough to give Dylan faith in humanity again. Harrison was childless, but he’d seen the instant change in his past patients.

  Uncle Martin left the room. Nathaniel took his place on the tub, reaching out to stroke Dylan’s leg affectionate. Harrison smiled at him.

  “Is there anything else I can do?” Nathaniel asked. “I want to be helpful, but I’m not sure what would be helpful and what will get in the way.”

  “Stay here with me,” Dylan begged. His face contorted with pain, and he clenched Harrison’s hand. “It hurts.”

  “You’re doing great,” Harrison said. He shifted a little closer to Dylan, hoping Alma wouldn’t be long. The labor was definitely more advanced than he thought, and while he’d been there through plenty of deliveries, he wasn’t a medical professional. With a little luck, Harrison could deliver a baby, but he wouldn’t know what to look for if there were complications. “Nate, you should stay here with him, like he wants. The best thing you can do right now is support him.”

  “Please, Nate,” Dylan begged. “Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be alone.”

  Nathaniel’s eyes shone with unshed tears. He squeezed Dylan’s knee and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

  Uncle Martin came back with the wet towels. Harrison wiped the sweat from Dylan’s forehead and neck. Nathaniel remained tubside and washed Dylan’s feet, then massaged his soles as Dylan worked his way through contraction after contraction. The tension and fear in the air was replaced with quiet excitement. The aura in the room changed. Every now and then, Harrison stole glances at Nathaniel. Each time, he was stunned by how caring and compassionate Nathaniel was in such a trying time.

  Alma, the midwife, arrived just in time to usher the newest O’Toole into the world. A baby boy, six pounds, four ounces, took his first breath and cried, filling Uncle Martin’s tiny bathroom with his wails.

  Dylan wept as he held him. Nathaniel, exhausted, leaned against the bathroom wall. Harrison looked between the two, heart swelling with joy.

  There was nothing like being there for the birth of a child—but now Harrison knew what it was like to be there for a birth in the company of someone he cared for. Someone he thought he might like to start his own, tiny family with. It was soon, but his brothers had told him that when he found the right one, it would click. Nathaniel clicked. Now that the birth was over, maybe they could start again and take it slow.

  One day at a time.

  8

  Nathaniel

  Dylan was crying. Actually crying. Tears slid down his cheeks as he clutched his baby to his chest, cradling his head as if to shield him from the rest of the world. Nathaniel watched him, tears forming in his own eyes. To see Dylan emotional was nothing short of a miracle after weeks and weeks of the same cautious stoicism and occasional descents into heart-wrenching sorrow. This was different. Dylan wasn’t crying because he was upset—he was crying because he was happy.

  “You did so good,” Nathaniel whispered. He leaned in to kiss Dylan on the forehead. For now, his brother was back, and Nathaniel couldn’t be happier. “He’s beautiful.”

  “I love him,” Dylan said as he sobbed. “I love him so much, Nate. You don’t understand.”

  “I can see it on your face,” Nathaniel said. “It’s beautiful. I’m so happy for you. What’s his name?”

  Dylan looked up at Nathaniel with weary eyes. “Sean,” he said. “His name is Sean.”

  A hand squeezed Nathaniel’s shoulder, and he looked up from his brother to find Harrison standing behind him. The moment softened further, and Nathaniel leaned back so that his shoulder rested against Harrison’s thigh and his head rested on Harrison’s hip. Nothing more than a kiss bonded them, but Nathaniel’s soul ached for more. He’d watched Harrison deal tenderly and compassionately with Dylan even during the most intense moments of his labor, and Harrison’s kind, gentle demeanor resonated with Nathaniel on a spiritual level. This was the kind of man he wanted beside him as he planned his future family. He’d never met an alpha so considerate or in tune with the needs of others.

  “I need to go talk with your uncle for a little while,” Harrison said softly. “Thank you for trusting me through your labor, Dylan.”

  “Thank you for being there,” Dylan said. He rocked Sean very carefully in his arms, eyes closing. “I think… I think I want to get cleaned up soon and go to bed. I’m so tired.”

  “You have reason to be,” Harrison said. “Let me clear matters up with your uncle, and then I’ll see if we can’t get you somewhere you can rest.”

  Although Harrison spoke directly with Dylan, Nathaniel felt the bulk of his attention in the silent space between their bodies. He closed his eyes and breathed Harrison’s scent in, letting it ease his worries and soothe his mind. There was nothing better than this—nothing so good as having a dependable alpha nearby.

  Not just any alpha.

  His alpha.

  Nathaniel shivered, and Harrison squeezed his shoulder before bowing out of the bathroom to find Uncle Martin.

  Nathaniel and Dylan were alone.

  “He’s so pretty,” Dylan whispered. “I thought… I thought when he was inside of me, he was a girl. I was sure of it. But now I’m glad he’s a boy. I’m really glad. I’m going to love him with everything I have.”

  “I’m really proud of you,” Harrison admitted. His cheeks heated, and he shifted uncomfortably on the side of the tub. “I know you’re going to be a good mother, and I’m really glad to have a nephew. He’s gorgeous.”

  “He is.” Dylan caressed the tiny tuft of hair atop Sean’s head, careful of his soft spots. “I wish you could understand, Nate. I wish it so bad. I thought that everything was over after I left The White Lotus, but it’s not. All of a sudden, things are different. It was harder for me to understand when he was inside of me, but now he’s here, and I feel like I have someone to live for again. Someone who needs me. You and Uncle Martin, you’ve gone on fine with me gone, and you’ve lived your lives fully, but Sean? Sean can’t do that. He needs me there, and I’m not going to let him down. I won’t.”

/>   Nathaniel smiled. He kissed the top of Dylan’s head, then breathed in deep and settled back. For a while, they sat in silence. The heat across his cheeks spread further, down his neck and through his chest. Then, like a pin dropped into a bucket of water, the heat spread to his groin.

  Nathaniel sat up straight, eyes wide and heart beating hard. It wasn’t just exhaustion—it was something far more sinister.

  “Dylan,” Nathaniel said, voice trembling. “Is Alma still here?”

  “I think so,” Dylan said. “She went out to get some fresh air, I think, but she’s going to be staying here for a little while longer, just to make sure me and Sean are okay.”

  “I’m going to talk to her real quick, okay? You stay here and relax with Sean. I’m sure Harrison will be back soon.”

  “Okay.” Dylan frowned, shooting Nathaniel a concerned look. “I hope everything’s okay. You look a little spooked.”

  “Everything is fine,” Nathaniel assured him. It was a lie, but he kept it out of his voice, and he didn’t think Dylan would notice. “Just need to check up with her on something minor.”

  He hoped it was something minor, but the tingling that had started to spread through his groin and deep into his body suggested otherwise. Nathaniel was old enough to recognize it by now. He was a few months early, but there was no dismissing it—he was going into heat.

  “I’ll stay put,” Dylan promised. “I don’t think I can walk anyway.”

  Nathaniel nodded, made sure Dylan was comfortable, then left the kitchen to track Alma down. As he walked, he kept an eye open for Harrison. Running into an alpha, particularly an alpha he was wildly attracted to, wasn’t what he needed right now. The onset of his heat meant that his mind was about to betray him, and Nathaniel didn’t know how much time he had left. Usually the signs leading up to his heat were obvious, and he was usually able to medicate himself to block his heats before they set in. With the way arousal was flooding his gut, he didn’t think there was time left. Medication was ineffective if a heat was already established. If Alma didn’t have a solution, Nathaniel was stuck.