Page 125 of The Goal

“Actually, I’m—”

My phone rings before he can finish. “Sorry,” I say hastily, reaching into my pocket. When I see Sabrina’s name, I’m instantly on alert. “I need to take this. It’s my girl.”

The older man smiles knowingly and backs away. “Gotcha.”

I pressTalkand put the phone to my ear. “Hey, darlin’. Everything okay?”

“No! It’s not okay!”

Her shriek nearly shatters my eardrums. The anguish there makes my pulse kick up a panicky notch.

“What’s wrong? Are you all right?” Did that son of a bitch Ray touch her?

“No,” she moans, and then there’s a gasp of pain. “I’m not all right. My water just broke!”

32

TUCKER

There is no worse feeling in this world than seeing the woman you love in pain and being unable to do a damn thing about it.

For the past eight hours, I’ve been about as helpful as a fish out of water. Or a fishinwater, because what the fuck do fish really offer to society?

Every time I try to encourage Sabrina to do her breathing, she glares at me like I slaughtered her treasured family pet. When I offer her some ice chips to chew on, she tells me to shove them up my ass. The one time I peeked over Dr. Laura’s shoulder at Sabrina’s lady parts, she told me that if I did that one more time, she’d break my hockey stick and stab me with it.

The mother of my child, folks.

“Four centimeters dilated,” Dr. Laura reports during her latest check-in. “We still have a ways to go, but things are progressing nicely.”

“Why is it taking so long?” I ask in concern. “Her water broke hours ago.” Eight hours and six minutes, to be exact.

“Some women deliver their babies within hours of the water breaking. Some don’t start having contractions as late as forty-eight hours after it. Every labor is different.” She pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll get there. Sabrina, let the nurse know if the pain becomes too much for you, and we’ll administer that epidural. But don’t wait too long. If the baby is too far down the birth canal, it won’t do any good. I’ll be back in a bit to check on you.”

“Thank you, Doc.” Sabrina’s tone is as sweet as sugar, probably because Dr. Laura is the one who controls the drugs.

And yep, the second the doctor is gone, my woman’s smile fades and she fixes me with a scowl. “Youdid this to me,” she growls. “You!”

I fight a laugh. “Takes two to conceive, darlin’. At least according to science.”

“Don’t you dare bring science into this! Do you even care what’s happening to my body right now? I—” A groan rips out of her throat. “Noooooo! Oh, Tuck, another contraction.”

I snap to action, rubbing her lower back just like Hippie Stacy instructed me to. I order her to breathe and count out each breath, while diligently checking the monitor she’s hooked up to, which is measuring and timing her contractions.

It passes quickly, and the next one doesn’t come for a while, which disheartens me. I read up on the labor process, and it seems like Sabrina is still in the early stages of it. She hasn’t even hit active labor yet, and I pray to God that this baby doesn’t take days to pop out.

“It hurts,” she moans after another contraction ends. There’s a sheen of sweat on her face and her lips are so dry they’re turning white.

I rub an ice chip over her mouth and lean down to kiss her temple. “I know, darlin’. But it’ll all be over soon.”

I’m lying. Four more hours pass before she dilates to five centimeters, and then another three before she’s at six. That brings the tally to fifteen hours, and I can see Sabrina’s energy beginning to drain. Plus, the pain is getting worse. Her latest contraction has her gripping my hand so tight I feel the bones shift.

When it ends, she collapses against the bed in a sweaty mess and announces, “I want the epidural. Fuck, I’ll even take the forceps of doom. Just get this baby out of my body!”

“Okay.” I smooth her damp hair away from her forehead. “We’ll tell Dr. Laura when she comes back to—”

“Now!” Sabrina yells. “Go tell hernow.”

“She’ll be here any minute, baby. And the contractions are three minutes apart. We still have time before the next—”

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