Page 57 of The Forever Game

“Yes,” she whimpers. “But it’s too soon. She’s not due for a month yet. We’re not ready. What if something’s wrong? What if she doesn’t make it?”

The fear in her blue eyes renders me speechless. Thank fuck for Rachel, who opens the door and assures us, “She’s going to make it.”

Her quiet confidence takes the edge off my nerves as I place Caroline down, then help her into the truck.

She’s crying unchecked tears as I close the door and buckle up, her chest punching with obvious panic.

“Just breathe.” Rachel gets in the other side, stroking her hand and calmly talking her down. “Focus on your next breath. Think about only that. You can do this.”

Liam drives at a decent clip but safely gets us to the hospital. Caroline’s enduring another contraction as a nurse runs out the ER doors to assist us. She’s brought a wheelchair and was obviously already prepped. One of the guys must have called ahead, and I’m so freaking grateful, I’m about ready to burst into tears myself.

I take Caroline’s hand and she grips it like a vise, grinding the bones together while I clench my jaw and pretend it doesn’t hurt.

The contraction passes as she slumps back in the chair, panting and already looking exhausted. I kiss the top of her head, and then the nurse starts wheeling her through the corridors with me walking alongside. This was so not the plan. That’s going to be stressing Caroline out big-time. Her usual doctor isn’t here, and the last time she was in this hospital, she was dealing with a miscarriage.

A shudder runs through me. I try to keep it on lockdown, not wanting to relive those memories of pacing the waiting room while she went into surgery. Her blood was all over my shirt, and I’d never been so scared in my life.

Although I’m pretty fucking scared right now.

What if we lose our little girl?

Shit, shit, shit!Please don’t let that happen, I silently beg, forcing a smile when Caroline glances up at me.

Her big blue eyes are bright with fear, and as much as I’d like to join her, I have to be the strong one right now.

“In here.” The nurse pushes Caroline into a room. “Let’s get her set up on the bed. Dr. Bridges will be with us in just a minute.”

The nurse works efficiently, helping Caroline into a hospital gown and checking her vitals before excusing herself to go find the doctor. The door clicks shut behind us, and we’re suddenly swamped in silence. Our friends are no doubt pacing the waiting room, but it’s just the two of us in here. Just me, needing to help my wife while I fight my own anxiety.

Caroline’s breaths are shaky. She lets out another whimpering cry, and I perch on the edge of the bed, tucking her hair over her shoulder and brushing her tears away. “Baby, look at me.”

Her eyes dart to mine, and I force what I hope is a calm smile.

“You got this. You’re strong, and whatever we’re facing right now, it’s gonna be okay.”

“I just don’t want to lose her.” Caroline cradles her stomach, and I rest my hand over hers.

“We won’t.” I don’t know if that’s true, but I’m fucking saying it anyway.

She sucks in a shuddering breath and holds it for a beat too long.

“Just breathe.” I start rubbing her back. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Another contraction hits her just as the doctor walks into the room.

The man has a calm voice and a kind smile, but Caroline is still tense during his examination. I can sense she wants her own doctor—the smiley, cheerful lady with the reassuring brown gaze and sweet Indian accent. She’s helped Caroline give birth to all our children, and now she’s not here.

This man doesn’t know Caroline’s history. He doesn’t know my wife at all, and it’s obvious as he asks a plethora of questions that Caroline answers in terse, snappy beats. I end up taking over for her when she starts to cry.

The doctor seems unfazed by the emotion pumping through the room, and I rub my wife’s hand and answer everything I can. She has to correct me twice, but we get there in the end—Caroline a blubbering mess and me barely keeping it together. I’m pretty sure my teeth will be ground to dust by the end of this.

“Well…” The doctor rips off his gloves, giving his hands a wash while he informs us, “You’re going into early labor. You’re already six centimeters dilated, so we’re in the active phase. By the sounds of your last birthing experience, we’ll be meeting your little girl very soon.”

“Will she be okay?” Caroline hiccups out the words. “She’s not due for another four weeks.”

His smile is soft, his voice reassuring. “Babies much younger than this have survived no problem. Her heartbeat is strong and steady, and her vitals seem good.”

“But why is she coming early?”

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