Page 90 of Strike Zone

“Is everything okay?”

“I just need to monitor a few stats.” The deep-set furrow of his brow is ringing alarm bells as he checks her over. “Ms. Lexington, were you feeling any discomfort before your water broke?”

“On and off. I just thought it was Braxton Hicks. I get them all the time. And please, call me Dee.”

“Did you notice them happening more regularly in the past twenty-four hours?”

She chances a glance in my direction before answering, which can only mean one thing.

“In hindsight, I’ve probably been having contractions for at least six hours.”

“Six hours!”

“I don’t need a lecture, Linc.”

“Your contractions are two minutes apart. I’m going to need to examine you and see how far along you are.”

“Okay.” I help Diana out of her pants and pull the blanket they provided over her to give her as much modesty as she can have under the circumstances.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting? You shouldn’t have even been at that game.”

“Because I knew you’d worry, and I wanted tonight to be special.”

Why would she say that? Brooke.

“I am going to wring your sister’s neck when I see her.”

“Don’t be mad. She didn’t tell me anything. I guessed something was going on when my mom and dad were hinting for an invite, and Brooke only said that you had a small surprise planned for me and the baby. I don’t know anything other than that. It doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

Another contraction hits, and the EMT reaches for a bag on one of the shelves. “Can you give her something to help with the pain until we get to the hospital?”

“Dee, are you feeling the urge to push?”

“Oh my God, make it stop.”

“Diana, look at me, baby.” I sweep her hair off her face, trying to focus her attention on the sound of my voice. “Do you feel like you need to push?”

“Yes! Isn’t that the whole fucking point? Every fiber of my being wants to push.”

The EMT looks to me, his face stern, a conversation passing between us without a word spoken. This baby is coming now.

I start stripping off my uniform caked in red ash. “Just breathe, Diana. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Jesus, Linc, you can’t fix everything with the anaconda, for crying out loud. Why are you taking off your clothes?”

“Because we’re about to have this baby, and I’m going to get up behind you and sit at your back the way we practiced, okay? I don’t want you or the baby getting covered in baseball dirt off my ass.”

“I am not having this baby in the back of an ambulance on a random street, sitting in traffic in New York. I’ll hold it in until we get to the hospital.”

I get up behind her, pulling her back to my chest, propping her up into an almost sitting position. “You can’t hold it in, southpaw. You’re as strong-willed as they come, but this is one time nature will take its course. You can do this.”

“I can’t.” Tears fill her eyes as the overwhelming desire to push takes over.

“You’re already doing it.”

“The baby’s crowning. You’re doing great, Dee. Next contraction, bear down and give me a big push, okay.”

She drops her head back against my chest. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

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