Page 116 of Slap Shot Daddies

I can’t help but grin as I pull her closer, feeling the warmth of her gratitude.

“You’re not in this alone anymore. We’ve got you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Kenzie

I've been feelingcontractions all day, but honestly? I'm not worried.

They aren't close together, and I'm convinced they're just Braxton-Hicks, those little practice rounds for the real deal.

I stretch out on the couch, my body sinking into the worn cushions, and rest my hands over my enormous belly.

The skin feels taut, stretched so tight I imagine I could pop like an overfilled balloon at any moment.

"You know," I smirk, glancing between the three men doting on me like mother hens, "I don't even know which one of you to blame for this."

Reggie, with his boyish grin and tousled hair, kneels at my feet, gently rubbing them. "Yer welcome,lass," he says with a wink.

Braden, lounging against the armrest with a casual elegance, chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy circles over my swollen stomach. "Whoever you don't kill during delivery can officially claim the babies," he teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Ambrose, ever the grump with his perpetual frown and crossed arms, just snorts. "We're not claiming anything. Thesekids belong to all of us," he declares with a gruff but tender resolve.

My heart clenches a little, filled with love for them.

I breathe through another contraction, a small twinge of pain rippling through me, but still, it’s nothing serious.

They watch me carefully, like hawks circling their prey, their concern palpable in the air.

"Relax," I groan, rolling my eyes at their intensity. "I told you, it's just false labor. I feel totally…” Suddenly I feel a gush of warm liquid spreads over my leggings, soaking them instantly. Oh.

"Uh, guys?" I say, my voice jumping up an octave, a mix of surprise and excitement. "I think my water just broke."

All three men freeze, their eyes wide with shock, as if I just announced the house was ablaze. Reggie springs up from the couch, his face a mask of panic.

"Shite!" he shouts, his voice cracking as he bolts upright.

Ambrose reacts without hesitation, snatching up the hospital bags we meticulously packed weeks ago in preparation for this moment. Braden is already at my side, gently helping me to my feet.

He slides a supportive arm under my shoulders, his other hand pressed firmly against the small of my back, offering both stability and comfort.

"Breathe, love," he instructs softly, his voice a calming yet firm anchor in the storm of my rising anxiety.

"I am breathing!" I retort, my frustration mingling with the sharpness of a contraction that seems to claw its way through my abdomen with more intensity than before.

"We're not waiting," Ambrose declares, his determination clear as he moves swiftly, already heading for the door. "Time to go."

They guide me carefully out of the house, Reggie rushing ahead to pull the car up to the curb, while Braden and Ambrose maneuver me into the backseat with meticulous care.

The contractions are coming faster now, each one a fierce twist of pain that forces me to grip Braden’s hand with desperate strength.

"Call Dr. Patel’s office," I manage to say, my voice strained as I focus on breathing evenly through my nose.

Ambrose quickly retrieves his phone, his fingers flying over the screen as Reggie floors the accelerator, the tires screeching as we leave the driveway in a blur.

"Hey there. It's happening. Now," Ambrose relays urgently, the gravity of the situation hanging in the air as we speed towards the hospital.

He fields some more questions with growing impatience, and then gets off the phone.

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