Page 55 of Justice

"Let’s get her to your house and I will check her over,” she tells us, putting her hand on my wrist to check my pulse.

Christopher sweeps me off the ground again, carrying me bridal style and rushing me out to the car, cradling me gently in his arms. Each step jostles my aching body, sending fresh waves of pain and fear over me. He settles me into the passenger seat, buckling me in with shaking hands.

Meadow slides into the back seat as he peels out of the clubhouse lot, tires squealing. He reaches over, gripping my hand tightly, his eyes wild with worry. "Just hold on, Elle. We'll be home soon. Everything's going to be all right."

I nod, biting my lip against another moan of pain. I try to take comfort in his words, but the fear is suffocating. It's too soon. Miracle isn't ready.I'm not ready.

The drive home is filled with anxiety, and we screech to a halt in front of our house. Christopher barely puts the car in park before he's out and racing to my side. He lifts me out, carrying me swiftly inside and straight to our bedroom.

He lays me down gently, smoothing my hair back from my sweat-dampened face. "I'm here, angel. I'm right here."

Meadow takes charge, checking my vitals and feeling my belly.

Her hands move in sure, efficient motions, but I can see the concern in her eyes. "Elle, I need you to describe the pain for me. Is it constant or coming in waves?"

I take a shuddering breath, trying to focus past the fear clawing at my throat. "It's… it's coming and going. Starts in myback and wraps around to the front. Oh God, Meadow, it's too early. She can't come yet."

"Shh, try to stay calm," Meadow soothes. "Let's see what's going on before we panic, okay?"

She hooks me up to a fetal heart rate monitor from her bag, the rapidwhoosh, whooshof Miracle's heartbeat filling the room. Christopher grips my hand like a lifeline as we wait for Meadow's assessment.

After what feels like an eternity, Meadow looks up with a reassuring smile. "Baby's heartbeat is strong and steady. These pains you're feeling are contractions, but they're not regular. I think what you're experiencing is false labor."

Relief crashes over me so strongly I feel lightheaded. Christopher exhales shakily, pressing his forehead to our joined hands. "False labor?" he asks, his voice rough. "What does that mean?"

"It means Elle's body is preparing for labor, but she's not in active labor yet," Meadow explains. "These practice contractions can be intense and scary, but they don't mean the baby is coming rightnow.

Meadow's words allow me to breathe a little easier, but I'm still on edge. Every twinge, every flutter in my belly has me tensing, fearing the real thing. Christopher never leaves my side, his hand constantly resting on my stomach as if he’s willing our daughter to stay put a little while longer.

Chapter 10

Elle

The next fewdays pass in a haze of restless anxiety. Christopher hovers, barely letting me out of his sight. I appreciate his attentiveness, but his nervous energy only feeds my own. We're both jumping at shadows, the stress of the murders and now my false labor fraying our nerves.

On the fourth day, I wake from a fitful nap to raised voices coming from the living room. I heave myself out of bed, one hand supporting my lower back as I waddle toward the commotion.

I find Christopher, Mason, and a few other club members huddled around the coffee table, poring over what looks like surveillance photos. They fall silent when they notice me, exchanging loaded glances.

"What's going on?" I demand, my voice still hoarse from sleep.

Christopher scrubs a hand over his face, looking torn. Mason clears his throat. "We've been tracking a couple of leads on the killer. Scouting out some locations he might be holed up in."

My heart leaps into my throat. "You found him? Do you know who he is?"

"Not yet," Christopher admits, and I know it’s really hard on him that he hasn’t found the person yet.

Meadow has been staying in our guest room since the false labor started, and I really love her for doing this. She is going to work but coming back here to stay during the nights, and Mason has decided to sleep over too.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you both to torture yourself.” I don’t want the worry to get to them because they’ve done everything humanly possible to catch this person.

A little while later, I hear Meadow pull up in the driveway, and she walks up carrying our mail from the front gate.

"Hi, how are you feeling?” she asks me, and I shut the door behind her before locking it.

She hands the packages and letters off to Christopher and he sets them on the island to go through.

We don’t have someone to bring the mail to each house as a safety protocol, not letting someone random freely going through the area.

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