Page 57 of Never Yours

“Hey. I can’t call from my cell, the reception is trash here. But my water broke. Can you come?”

“I already signed out for the weekend. I was headed to my therapy appointment when I got the call. I planned on surprising you by driving up tonight.” There’s a guttural, feral moan, and I hear a woman in the background walking her through deep breathing. “I’m on my way.”

We hang up, and I leave a message for my therapist that I’ll be missing my appointment today. The drive takes me just shy of three hours to get to the hospital, but it feels longer than the six months I was away from Ingrid. I haven’t received another call, so my hope is that I didn’t miss her giving birth.

Pulling up to the hospital, I park in a visitor spot and practically sprint through the front doors. After checking in at reception, a nurse walks me back into one of the labor and delivery rooms. Ingrid is resting, and I lean against the doorframe, hands in my pockets, admiring the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.

She must sense my presence because her eyes flutter open, and she mutters, “What next? Backward ball cap? Or do you have gray sweatpants hiding somewhere?”

“Hey, princess.” I push off the doorframe and take a seat next to her bed. “How are you feeling?” Taking one of her hands in both of mine, I bring her knuckles to my lips.

“Hungry.”

“Fuck, I love you,” I laugh, leaning in to kiss her forehead. Small beads of sweat dust her hairline, she must be fucking exhausted.

Suddenly, she gasps, almost doubling over and gripping her belly. A moment later, a nurse comes in and tells Ingrid, “As soon as this contraction passes, I’m going to check to see how much you’ve dilated.”

The nurse checks a few things and does a quick ultrasound but doesn’t say anything. Finally, she tells us she’s going to get the doctor, who comes in a few minutes later.

“I know you wanted to deliver vaginally, but with where the baby is positioned, we may need to consider a cesarean instead.”

“No,” Ingrid groans through her pain, shaking her head. “We had a plan.”

“For the health of the baby, we can let you push a few times, but if she doesn’t change positions, it may be our only option,” the doctor insists.

“Ingrid,” I say softly, “when has anything ever gone to plan for us? It’s okay if we bring our daughter into this world a different way than you wanted to. We need to make sure you and Darcy are safe.”

“Last resort,” she demands.

“Last resort,” I echo, brushing a few damp strands of hair off her forehead. “You’re doing amazing. Everything is going to be fine.”

ingrid

. . .

“She’s perfect,” Cass coos, snuggling Darcy.

Darcy is more than perfect, she’s the most beautiful creature on the fucking planet.

But I can’t even enjoy my daughter’s light dusting of strawberry blonde hair, or the adorable sigh she has, I’m in so much pain after the cesarean; mostly from gas, but the doctors claim I can’t be given anything for it except a damn mint. Cay has snapped at the nurses for not listening, so I’m sure we’re on a shit list until we’re discharged. I’m moments away from begging Caleb to run to the store and buy simethicone over the counter.

There’s a soft knock at the door before Pop walks in. “Hey, kiddo, how are you feeling?”

“I’m great,” Cassidy jests and Pop rolls his eyes. He moves further into the room, and Cass passes Darcy to him. “She’s adorable, isn’t she?”

Pop’s voice is strained when he finally answers, “You guys did good.”

He begins to hand her off to me, but I insist, “It’s Caleb’s turn.”

Caleb takes her, whispering something to our sweet baby girl. With Cay still having a few months of duty, I want him to have as much time with her as possible. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him this happy. Ever since he got back, he’s been on edge, waiting for another episode to hit. His doctors have him on two different medications to hopefully help with it, but today is the first day I’ve seen his wide smile in a long fucking time. Now if only he was able to grow out his beard…

I sit up but wince with pain in my abdomen and my pussy. Trying to push and have a vaginal delivery was fucking stupid—after the c-section, now everything hurts. Caleb’s smile fades, replaced with worry etched on all of his features. I swipe my thumb between his brows, and his frown softens.

Cass chimes in, “Is it local to the incision?”

“No,” I grit out. “It’s like I have really bad”—I lower my voice so hopefully only she can hear—“gas.”

Cass barks a laugh. “Give me ten minutes. There’s a little gift shop that has some over-the-counter medication.” Without a chance to protest, she rushes out of the room.

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