Page 104 of Hat Trick Daddies

I look at Ally, her face contorted in pain but her eyes sharp with determination. “We’re going now,” I tell her, my voice firm. “Stay with me, Ally.”

I rush out of the bedroom, yelling for Nick and Tyler at the top of my lungs. Their doors swing open almost simultaneously, both of them disheveled but instantly alert.

“Ally’s water broke!” I shout, motioning them toward the bedroom. “We need to move, now!”

They’re at her side in seconds, Tyler gently helping her sit up while Nick steadies her from the other side. Her breathing is shallow, her face scrunched in pain.

“I’ve got you,” Tyler murmurs, his voice soothing. “We’re going to get you to the hospital, Ally.”

Nick grabs her other arm, and together they guide her toward the stairs, her small frame supported between them. I dart ahead, throwing open the front door and starting the SUV.

The engine roars to life, the headlights cutting through the dark night as I hobble quickly back inside.

The twins carefully help Ally down the stairs, her breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts. Her arm is draped over both of them, and every so often, she squeezes their shoulders as another contraction ripples through her.

I open the SUV’s back door, and Nick helps Tyler ease her into the seat.

“Breathe, Ally,” Nick says, his voice calm but firm. “In and out. We’re almost there.”

Tyler climbs into the back with her, his hand firmly holding hers. I slide into the passenger seat as Nick takes the wheel, his knuckles white against the steering wheel as he pulls out of the driveway.

The tires screech slightly as we hit the main road, the SUV hurtling toward the hospital.

The hum of the highway fills the car, punctuated by Ally’s soft groans and Nick’s occasional instructions to breathe. Tyler leans close to her, brushing her hair out of her face and whispering soothing words.

“Just a little longer,” I tell her, my voice thick with emotion as I glance back. “We’re almost there.”

Her hand clutches Tyler’s shirt tightly as another contraction hits, her eyes closing against the pain. Nick floors the gas pedal, the SUV roaring through the empty streets.

“Don’t kill us on the way there, dude,” Tyler says from the backseat.

“Just take care of Ally and let me drive,” Nick shoots back.

Finally, the SUV screeches to a halt in front of the emergency room entrance. Nick turns to us. “Go, I’ll park the car and be right behind you.”

I leap out of the car, rushing to Ally’s side as Tyler opens the door on her side. She’s holding her belly, her breaths short and shallow.

I scoop her up under her arms, nearly carrying her as Tyler grabs the hospital bags from the trunk and follows. The sliding doors whoosh open, and we’re met with the stark brightness of the emergency room.

The air smells of industrial-strength cleaners, medication, and stale coffee as the low hum of a vending machine adds to the chaotic noise of the waiting area.

Faces turn toward us, some curious, some concerned. I stride to the receptionist desk, Ally practically draped over me.

“She’s in labor,” I manage, my voice thick with urgency.

The receptionist barely flinches, grabbing a clipboard. “Name and due date?” she asks.

“Ally…Ally Perry, due date is…well, now!” I say as Ally groans, and I grit my teeth, about to snap at the woman to move faster, but a nurse appears with a wheelchair.

The nurse gestures to the chair, and I help Ally lower herself into it. She leans back, her face pale and damp with sweat.

Tyler is at her other side, his hand on her shoulder, murmuring reassurances as I grip the back of the wheelchair.

“Follow me,” the nurse says, leading us through a set of swinging doors.

Tyler tries to walk through with us, but a security guard blocks him. “Sorry, sir. Only the father and immediate next of kin are allowed past this point.”

I glance back at Tyler, his expression crushed, but he nods, understanding. “Go with her,” he says, his voice steady, though his eyes betray his disappointment. “We’ll be here.”

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