Page 123 of Pieces

I glance at Coach, raising an eyebrow. “So…this is happening.”

A smirk tugs at his lips as he nods. “Looks like it.”

“Do they tell us how long this stage is supposed to last?” I ask, gesturing toward Daphne, who is now humming to herself and occasionally giggling for no apparent reason.

Coach shrugs. “Might be a while. You’ve got time to sit down and enjoy the show.”

I glance back at Daphne, who’s holding her cup up like a toast to no one in particular, and shake my head. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

Chapter fifty-three

Daphne

Thefloatyfeelingdoesn’tlast. I was lulled into a false sense of security, because now it hurts. A lot.

One minute, I’m sipping juice and laughing at Hudson. The next, my entire body feels like it’s been hit by a truck. A very large, very mean truck that’s driven directly over my abdomen.

“Okay, okay, okay—nope!” I gasp, gripping the edge of the bed as another contraction rips through me. My earlier blissful haze is gone, replaced by searing, white-hot pain. “Hudson!”

He’s at my side, gripping my hand, his face pale. “What? What’s happening? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay!” I snap, my voice higher than I intended. “It hurts, Hudson! It hurts a lot!”

Dad strides over, his calm presence somehow both infuriating and comforting. “I’ll get the nurse,” he says, already halfway out the door.

Hudson stays glued to my side, his hands hovering awkwardly near mine. “What do I do? Daph, tell me what to do!”

“Don’t just stand there—help me!” I grab his hand, squeezing so hard, his eyes widen in alarm.

“Okay, yeah, helping!” he says quickly, his free hand brushing my hair back from my face. “Breathe, right? They say breathing helps. In and out. Let’s go.”

I glare at him through the pain. “You breathe!”

Another contraction hits, and I let out a guttural groan that I’m pretty sure would terrify small children. Hudson’s hand is still in mine, and I can feel him wincing, but he doesn’t pull away.

The nurse arrives then. “Looks like we’re moving into active labor,” she says, checking the monitor next to my bed. “How’re we feeling, Mom?”

I shoot her a look. “How do you think I’m feeling?”

Hudson, bless his heart, leans toward the nurse and whispers, “I think she means terrible.”

The nurse doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s pretty standard. Don’t worry, we’ll get through this.” She glances at me again, her tone softening. “You’re doing great, Daphne.”

Right now, I feel like I’m about to split in half. But I nod anyway and cling to that sliver of encouragement.

Hudson squeezes my hand. “You got this, Daph. You’re a badass, remember?”

I don’t know if it’s the pain or the exhaustion, but his encouragement makes me laugh. It’s short and choked, but it’s there. “Badass,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “Sure. That’s me.”

The next hour is a blur of contractions and shouted instructions from the nurse. The room feels too hot, too bright, and I’m certain I’m going to pass out at least twice. But Hudson is there, wiping my forehead with a damp cloth, and saying things like “You’re amazing” and “You’re so much stronger than I am,” which makes me want to simultaneously kiss him and punch him.

Whoever said birth is beautiful and magical are forgetting the parts where it’s also exhausting and painful.

When the nurse announces it’s time to start pushing, my heart leaps into my throat. Panic rises, hot and suffocating.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Hudson says, leaning in close. His voice is low and steady as his hazel eyes lock onto mine. “You’ve done everything else. You’re the strongest person I know, Daph. You can do this.”

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