The Novella Collection: A series of short stories for the Pushing the Limits series, Thunder Road series, and Only a Breath Apart

by Katie McGarry

  Ryan tucks my hair behind my ear again, not because anything is out of place, but because he’s out of place, because I’m out of place. We’re out of our element—off track. Leaning a little too left when we should be more right. There’s concern in his eyes, and that causes the anxiety in me to twist further.

  “I don’t want you to feel scared or alone,” Ryan says.

  “I don’t.” I do feel scared, but I love that I’m no longer alone.

  I wrap my arms around myself because I am terrified. It took me a long time to get my head around jumping into this scenario, and one of the reasons I did agree to it is that since Ryan entered my life, he has always been by my side.

  All through the up and downs of college, when Ryan and I lived in an old apartment and were two struggling students with crappy jobs. Yeah, my Uncle Scott was and is loaded, but to teach me responsibility, he paid for my college education while I paid for my rent and associated bills.

  Ryan stayed by me when he was drafted into the minors by a team across the country after college, and I was about to begin my masters in nursing. Before he left, he got down on one knee, asked me to marry him and in one week we threw together a backyard wedding at Scott’s. The reception held near the old barn where we first kissed.

  He moved, I stayed, we video chatted, we texted, we talked. We cried, we fought, we froze each other out. We cried some more, we talked, we visited, we loved. He entered the majors, I graduated from school, he bought a house and I moved to be with him. His career, my career, a balance and imbalance, a constant push and pull, and we daily fall deeper in love.

  In the end, our love has done more than survived, it’s flourished.

  Ryan places his fingers under my chin, and I meet his eyes. “You, Beth, are my number one. We’re in this together, and if I have to fly halfway across the world to be here, I will.”

  “What if I’m not any good at being a mom?” I ask, because my mom was terrible. We haven’t had contact since I was seventeen, and I don’t have plans to speak to her again.

  Ryan places his hands over mine, and that’s when I realize that my fingers are over my abdomen, over our child.

  The love radiating from Ryan’s face fills me with so much joy that I could cry. It’s crazy, I hardly ever cried before my pregnancy, and now I’m a sobbing moron over a Facebook video of a child receiving a puppy for his birthday.

  “You cover our child when you’re scared,” Ryan says. “You protect our baby because that’s who you are. You protect the ones you love. That is going to make you a great mom.”

  And our child is going to have an excellent father. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Ignoring my flu warning, he lightly kisses me, yet it’s enough to get my heart moving.

  “What time is the appointment?” Ryan asks against my lips.

  “Eight.”

  Another kiss, and he releases me just in time for us to overhear someone in the hallway say, “I think I saw Ryan Stone. I swear it was him.”

  It is, but Ryan doesn’t belong to his fans this morning. He belongs to me. “I’m going to shower and change, and I have a favor to ask.”

  “Ask away.”

  “There’s a kid who’s had a rough night, and he may or may not have come in wearing a Ryan Stone baseball jersey. I can’t tell you why he’s here, and I can’t tell you what room he’s in, but you may want to wander very slowly past room two and poke your head in.”

  “Did you tell him I’m your husband?”

  I gasp and dramatically place a hand over my heart. “And divulge my alter ego status as Ryan Stone’s wife?” I waggle my eyebrows. “Never. Anyhow, around here, I’m more popular than you.”

  “Yes, you are.” Ryan pulls me in close for another hug, and my favorite thing in the world is being in his arms. “You save lives, Beth. You inspire me.”

  His words make me smile, and I playfully push him away. I head right for the locker room, and Ryan heads left for room two. I have the absolute best husband in the world.

  I wasn’t prepared for the home crowd in the waiting room. Scott and his wife Allison, along with Ryan’s mom, made the two-hour drive from Groveton to Cincinnati. Scott and I are very close, Allison now feels like my sister, and Ryan’s mom has become a mom to me. The death of Ryan’s father last year devastated his family, yet has weirdly brought them closer together.

  After a round of hugs for all, Ryan and I enter the examination room and share nervous small talk about how I didn’t tell anyone else besides blood family what was happening because I didn’t want to ruin the mood of the wedding if the news was bad.

  Soon the door opens, and Dr. Julia Greenwood walks in. She greets me then Ryan, and even though she already knows the problem from our text conversations, I tell her officially how I’m cramping and that the cramps are so painful that I’ve doubled over. Then I tell her the worse, how there was blood when I used the bathroom. Not a lot, just some, but it scared me.

  With a practiced comforting smile on her face, she asks me to lie back in the chair and squirts cold gel on my stomach. Ryan holds my hand as I hold my breath.

  We stare at the screen. Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

  Julia presses down on my stomach, moving the transducer this way then that way. Images fill the screen as she continues to search. Even with my experience in the medical field I can’t make sense of anything, because I’m desperate to see and hear a heartbeat.

  I grip Ryan’s hand harder, and he holds on with his solid strength.

  “I believe I’ve discovered the reason for your cramping,” Julia says. Terror seizes me at the idea of what she’ll say next. She turns the screen fully toward me and Ryan, pushes a button and over the speakers comes the most beautiful sound—a quick, swishing heartbeat. A mixture between a sob and a laugh leaves my throat, and Ryan leans down and kisses my cheek.

  “The baby’s okay?” I finally say.

  Julia smiles. “Yes. And so are the other two.”

  I blink repeatedly as my mind trips over itself. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I think the reason you’ve had cramping isn’t because you’re losing the baby, it’s because your babies are growing, and your tendons are stretching quickly. That happens when you’re pregnant with triplets.”

  My mouth goes dry, and I lose the ability to form sentences. “Triplets?”

  “Are you sure?” asks Ryan, and as my hand goes limp in his, he leans into me, as if he can sense how I’m falling into an emotional abyss.

  Julia points out three individual heartbeats and three individual sacs, which she says is a good thing.

  Within seconds Ryan’s expression changes from shock to wonder to pure joy. He kisses the top of my head, kisses my lips and then places his forehead to mine. “Triplets.”

  My response is a squeak.

  “Our babies are okay, Beth, and you’re going to be a great mom.”

  Babies. Not just baby. My brain hurts. I swallow as I stare imploringly up at him. “Are you sure?”

  “That there are triplets and that they look okay, I’m sure,” Julia says. “And I also agree that you’re going to make a great mom. Would you like pictures?”

  Ryan tells her yes, she hands me tissues to clean my stomach, prints out the pictures and I think I’ve gone into shock. Ryan asks questions, lots of questions I should have the presence of mind to ask, but don’t. He’s so happy, so energetic, so positive, so Ryan. She says things. Things I’m sure I should be listening to, but I only hear buzzing in my ears.

  Three. We are having three babies.

  Julia hands Ryan the pictures, congratulates us, and tells me to make another appointment with the receptionist before we leave.

  We are having three babies. At once.

  The door shuts and my eyes automatically shoot up to Ryan. “Three? I’m not even sure I can be a good mom to one, but three? How is three possible? That’s like impossible? What if she’s wrong? What if there are more in there and she
didn’t see them? Good God, am I having a litter?”

  I swing my legs off the bed, but Ryan stops me before I stand by sitting beside me. He cups my face in his hands and looks straight into my eyes. His rough hands are warm against my face. A physical reminder that he loves me. “You can do this.”

  “Ryan,” I start, but he cuts me off.

  “I believe in you, you can do this, and you are not alone. You have me, you have Scott, you have Allison, you have my mom, Mark and his husband, and once we tell our friends you know they’ll be there the moment you say the word.”

  “But they’re in Louisville, and I’m here.”

  “Then we’ll buy a place in Louisville, and we stay there when I’m not needed here or in Arizona for spring training.”

  “But my job.”

  “We’ll work it out, Beth,” he says. “We have some time before they’re born, and I’m telling you, we’ll work it out.”

  My lower lip trembles, and Ryan repeats. “You’re not alone.”

  I nod, and I whisper, “I’m not alone.”

  “You aren’t alone.”

  I’m not alone. “I want them.”

  “So do I.”

  And I hate that I didn’t do a very good job of listening to Julia. “They’re healthy?”

  “Yes. Strong heartbeats, every single one. She said some spotting can be normal, and that because of the multiple pregnancy, she’ll want to see you more often and that you may deliver early, but she said you’re healthy, the babies are healthy and there’s no reason to worry.”

  Three. I blow out a slow breath. We are having three babies at once. My heart soars and aches because I want them all, and there’s so much that can happen between now and when they’re born. So much I can’t control.

  A hand over my stomach and I close my eyes, promising them I’ll do my best to care for them all, to love them all and try not to screw it all up. I open my eyes, gaze up at Ryan, and blink back tears. I wipe at them while half laughing at myself. “I hate this whole emotion thing.”

  He gives me an endearing half-smile. “I sort of like it.”

  I smack his arm. “You would.”

  Ryan envelops me in a hug, and I willingly fall into him. My rock, my love, my best friend.

  “Three babies,” I say.

  “Three babies,” he repeats. “I love you, Beth.”

  I love him more. I lift my head, weave my fingers through his hair and kiss him. It’s slow, it’s warm and it causes a floating warmth in my veins. His hands begin to wander, and I break away before we go any further. “You know, this is how we ended up in this situation.”

  Ryan blushes, even after all this time, and it still brings me joy. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and guides me toward the door. “Six more and we can have a baseball team.”

  I elbow him, and he mock grunts. We enter the waiting room, see the hesitant and concerned expressions of the people we love then see their happy grins as we show them pictures of the three babies who I can’t wait to hold in my arms.

  Chapter 32

  Isaiah

  Ariel is on a high of fluffy dresses, rose petals and chocolate doughnuts, and because Noah hates me, he gave her a Coke. Caffeine to my daughter is like acid to a nineteen-sixties hippie.

  Rachel and I sit on a bench near where the wedding is going to take place and watch as our daughter chases a group of geese. The male one is a mean bastard. He’s spent most of the morning honking and snapping at kids who get too near, but he’s terrified of Ariel. She’s a big ball of energy in her huge flower girl dress, screaming a Moana song at the top of her lungs as she charges down the hill. My daughter does not possess a single ounce of fear.

  “We should stop her,” Rachel says. “She’s going to fall into the pond and ruin her dress.”

  “Abby won’t care. In fact, she’d think it’s funny.”

  “True, but we should stop her because that goose is going to drop dead of a heart attack.”

  “Ariel,” I call, and she spins on her toes to look at me. Her gray eyes are full of light and her face flushed with life. Her blond hair is falling out of the complicated braid Rachel has already re-done twice, and the daisies at the crown of her head are no longer in a neat row. “No ducks.”

  “But they need me.” She pulls two clenched tiny fists to her chest.

  “They aren’t coming home with us.”

  “Just one.”

  “No.”

  “But Dad….” Ariel brings out the big guns: wide, innocent eyes and a practiced lower lip tremble. “They’ll be sad without me.”

  “They’ll live.”

  Rachel stifles a giggle at the nice side of shade my daughter just threw me. Ariel’s not happy, but she does move on. She skips toward Noah’s son Seth, takes his hand, and tells him the ducks are more scared of him than he is of them. The way Seth’s eyes are about to pop out of his head, I’m betting she’s wrong.

  At least Ariel walks Seth away from the geese, but I am concerned with her trajectory toward the horses grazing in a nearby field. Ariel talks to Seth the entire time. There aren’t many people who can keep up with her, as she has something to say about everything at any time.

  The wedding is at a winery in the middle of nowhere, and it’s about an hour until the start. It’s a beautiful fall afternoon, blue skies and all that, and we’re here early since Rachel has had a big hand in the planning.

  Rachel and I own a custom car shop, and my cell is on vibrate in case a problem arises. So far—nothing. We don’t have a huge staff, but those we employ are trustworthy and know how to do their job.

  My wife leans her head against my shoulder, and I take her hand. I never knew there could be so much happiness in just sitting with my wife and watching a six-year-old walk. A daisy falls to the ground by my booted feet. I lean down and pick it up, forcing Rachel to straighten.

  I take a long look at my wife, snapping a mental picture of how gorgeous she is with her long blond hair curled and hanging around her bare shoulders. Rachel is in the wedding and is wearing a fitted purple dress. I’m not a stylist, but I do my best to tuck the daisy back into my wife’s hair, and the smile I receive in return takes my breath away.

  Maybe that’s the next tattoo I should get—a daisy to remember this moment.

  Her near violet eyes shift to something over my shoulder, and the spark in them gains my attention. Rachel grabs my hand, squeezes, then motions for me to look. Her silence tells me that if we make a noise, we’ll break the magic.

  I glance over my shoulder and watch as Echo stands next to Dalton as he gingerly holds Oliver. Oliver kicks his feet the way eight-month-olds do, and Dalton looks as comfortable as that goose with Ariel.

  Dalton is new to our family. Fifteen, gangly, all arms and legs with no muscle, thick glasses and a slight stutter when he’s nervous—which for the first two months that he lived with me, Rachel, and Ariel was all the time. But in the past month, he’s seemed to have relaxed some into our world. I’d love to take credit for that, but I think most of it is due to Rachel’s kindness, Ariel’s insistence that he’s her older brother for life, and Dalton’s twice-a-week appointments with my old high school guidance counselor, Mrs. Collins.

  Mrs. Collins no longer works in the school system, but has a private practice. She has three kids of her own now, and most people in the wedding party owe their life to her. When Dalton entered our home, she was the first person we contacted.

  Dalton has been in and out of foster care his entire life. His dad is out of the picture, and his mom is serving out her third court-ordered detox. He’s quiet, which I understand and respect. He often reminds me of a turtle with his head tucked into his body, and he’s slowly peeking out of his shell.

  Echo has Dalton sit with Oliver, and Dalton holds the baby by the armpits as Oliver jumps on Dalton’s thighs. The baby makes a loud raspberry noise, and Dalton’s face twists as if he doesn’t understand the conversation. Oliver does it again, and this time, Dalton d
oes it back. The way Oliver cackles causes Dalton to crack a grin and Echo to giggle.

  I squeeze Rachel’s hand, and she squeezes back. It’s good to see the kid smile. He deserves more carefree moments in his life.

  “Maybe, hopefully,” Rachel whispers in my ear, and I kiss her lips in response because I can’t find words to express how this hope of keeping Dalton is killing me. But I don’t regret opening our home to him. I never will.

  We want to adopt him and make him a permanent part of our family, but the system is complicated, and so is Dalton’s situation. Regardless, we’re going to be here for him, even if they take him away and place him back with his mom when she’s released.

  “Isaiah!” Noah calls. “We need help setting up the chairs.”

  I kiss Rachel again and head off to help my best friend set up for the wedding.

  Chapter 33

  West

  It’s weird how the world works. One day you’re speeding down a road until bam—there’s a sign that the bridge is out. You take a left, not really thinking where the left is going to lead, and you keep going. Then it dawns on you that maybe the person you were with may not have taken the left with you and has instead turned right. By then, you’ve both gone so far down your own roads that there’s no turning back.

  That’s what happened with me and Haley. We graduated from high school in love, went to different colleges, thought we could make it work, thought we were making it work, until, one day, we realized it wasn’t working.

  Through college, I fought my fair share of MMA fights, but I had never been as gutted open and ripped apart as the day Haley and I walked away from each other. There was no yelling, no fight, just a ton of regret and hurt.

  I haven’t seen her in years, but I think about her all the time. I’ve been reduced to hearing about her through my sisters Rachel and Abby, who remained friends with Haley after we broke things off. Haley’s a physical therapist now. She has her own practice, and she’s associated with the gym, her brother and cousin, Jax and Kaden, own.