Page 104 of Tangled Desires

I gasp, gripping the gas piece tightly, taking another sharp inhale, desperate for anything to dull the edges. The pain roars through me, an all-consuming fire, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep going. “Oh God, Harrison, I know I said I could do this, but I don’t think I can.”

“You can, baby. You can do this.” I dig my nails into his skin. I’m too far gone to notice his wince. The fire in my abdomen flares with each passing second, making my vision blur. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to breathe, to ride out the pain that’sgnawing at every nerve. The room feels distant, reduced to muffled sounds and shapes moving around me. My focus is nothing but him and the pain.

“You’re doing great, Imogen,” Tayla says as she presses a cold cloth against my forehead. “Just keep breathing.”

“It fucking hurts,” I manage, though my voice is strangled.

“I got you, baby. I got you.” Harrison’s hand is steady on mine, his face close, his voice grounding me even as my world narrows to the relentless pain tearing through me. I want him to take it all away, to somehow pull me out of this, but I know he can’t.

“You’re almost there!” Eileen says.

“I’m strong. I can do this,” I whisper, though I don’t know if I even believe it anymore.

“Yes, you fucking can.” Harrison moves carefully to sit behind me, shifting before pulling me against his chest, his arms around my waist. I lean into his strength, his hands bracing me as the next wave of pain hits. “Push, Imogen. Now, baby, push.”

I scream, pushing with everything I have, feeling the stretch, the burn. The contraction pulls me under, relentless. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” His breath is hot against my ear. “Come on, baby. You’re so close. I’m right here.” I lock my eyes on his, grounding myself, and push harder, the pressure building as I feel something shift inside me.

“Oh, we can see the baby’s head!” Tayla’s voice interrupts. “Keep pushing, Imogen. You’re so close.”

“Ow. Fuck, that burns.”

“That’s what we call the ring of fire, dear. Baby’s head is almost out.”

Harrison presses a kiss to my temple. “You’re so incredible, Immy-girl. Almost there, love.” I grit my teeth, and gather every shred of strength and push with everything I can muster—once, twice, then… A loud, piercing cry fills the room, and I feel myselfcollapse forward, the pain sliding away into numb, trembling relief.

“Holy shit,” Harrison’s voice breaks, thick with emotion. “You did it, Immy. That’s… that’s our baby.”

Tayla beams, cradling the tiny, squirming bundle. “Congratulations! It’s a baby boy.”

She places him on my bare chest, his small weight warm and impossibly real. I can’t stop the shaking, my whole body trembling up and down like I’m coming apart.

Eileen’s soft voice drifts in. “The shakes will pass soon, love. Just your body’s adrenaline letting go.” Harrison cradles me, one arm wrapped firmly around my shoulders, anchoring me to him as we both stare down at our son—tiny, wrinkled, red, and perfect. His hand gently brushes over the baby’s back, soothing his raw cries. I can’t look away, tears slipping silently down my cheeks.

“You did it, baby,” Harrison murmurs in my ear. “You did it, Immy.” He presses a tender kiss to my head, then another to my forehead, lingering before brushing his lips against my temple. “I have a son. Holy shit.Wehave a son.” His excitement buzzes through every word, every breath, anchoring me in the moment. Harrison shifts off the bed, allowing the midwives to work quickly, delivering the placenta and checking for any tears.

At the mention of a first-degree tear, I panic. “Is that bad? Do I need surgery?”

Harrison’s face pales. “Tear? What tear?”

I glare at him through my exhaustion. “Why are you freaking out? You’re not the one with the tear!”

The midwives laugh softly, one of them placing a reassuring hand on my arm. “It’s nothing to worry about, I promise. Just a small tear. We’ll numb the area and stitch you up—you won’t feel a thing.” They administer a local anaesthetic, and true totheir word, I don’t feel a thing as they stitch me up. Harrison still looks pale, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.

Once it’s all done, Tayla’s voice cuts in gently. “Who wants to cut the cord?”

I turn to Harrison, every limb weighed down with exhaustion. “You can do it.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “We’ll do it together.”

Tayla guides our hands, and together, we cut the cord—once blue, now white. The moment feels monumental, like sealing a promise. The midwives clean up the area and help me get covered, settling us in together. I cradle our son, staring down at his tiny scrunched face in awe.

“Is my dad here? Could you please… bring him in, if he is.”

Tayla steps beside me. “We’ll bring him in. You did amazing, Imogen.” Her words soothe me. “Let’s get you cleaned up and some ice on that area, okay?” She says something else, but her words barely register as the door opens. Dad walks in, tears in his eyes as he takes everything in. He leans down, pressing a kiss to my head, his hand gently patting my hair just like he used to when I was child.

“Oh, Imogen,” he whispers. “I’m so proud of you, pumpkin.” His gaze shifts to my son, in my arms, and his expression softens, pure awe and love shining through. I look into his eyes and see pride—real, undeniable pride. For the first time, I feel it in myself too.

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