Page 29 of Cold as Hell

Dalton swings around to the back of the clinic. The building shelters us from the storm, and I wobble up as he bangs on the door. Then he sees me and lunges to help. I let him, and we move carefully onto the snow-slick deck.

The back door is unlocked. I’m never sure how I feel about that for my sister’s sake, but I’m grateful for it now. Dalton bustles me in and then raps hard on the door up to my sister’s apartment. That one is locked, though he has the key and if April has her earplugs in as usual, he’ll need it.

Dalton helps me into the exam room first.

“Go get April,” I say as I unzip my parka.

When he hesitates, I add, “Please,” and that gets him moving. April must have heard the noise downstairs, because I’m still in the midst of sitting to kick off my boots when she appears with Dalton.

“On the table,” she says. “Eric?”

Dalton boosts me up even as I protest that I haven’t removed my boots. Once I’m on the exam table, he does that and April moves in to lift my voluminous nightshirt.

“Can I explain what I’m actually feeling first?” I say.

“Contractions.” She presses cold hands to my abdomen, and I jump and swear.

“Stay still, Casey,” she says.

I glare. “Your hands are like ice. I’m not screaming in pain, April. Can we slow down? Please.” I pull my nightshirt over my stomach and shift backward onto the table.

“I seem to be having contractions,” I say. “I’ve had no other symptoms. I feel them here.” I point. “They’re a few minutes apart, and they’re lasting maybe thirty seconds.”

“Eric?” April glances over her shoulder. “There’s a timer in the drawer. Would you get that out please?”

He’s still doing that when the next contraction hits.

“Hit start,” I grunt, wincing.

“There are two timers on that,” April says. “Use both. One for the length, and one for the interval.”

He does, and I grit my teeth as I wait it out. Once it passes, I let April help me remove my sweatpants. Then I lie back on the exam table while April checks for dilation. I try to be patient, but when another contraction comes, I can’t wait.

“April?” I say, panting. “Anything happening down there?”

It takes her a moment to say, “No.”

I lift my head. “Nothing?”

“I don’t see any signs of dilation.”

“So it’s a false alarm?”

“I don’t know.”

She moves her hands to my belly and begins to feel around. I study her face, but it’s Dalton who speaks first.

“April?” he says. “What’s wrong?”

“I am not an obstetrician,” she snaps. “That’s what’s wrong. I—” She takes a deep breath, air sucking between her teeth. “That was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “I know you’re not an expert, but we can both see you’re concerned.”

“She’s in breech,” April says.

Any other time, I’d give her shit for gendering the baby. With Dalton, it’s him teasing that he’s sure we’re having a girl. With April, it’s that she balks at the nongendered pronoun. Now, though, I let it pass, far more intent on what she just said.

I swallow. “So the baby is feet-first?”

---