Page 38 of Treat

“Oh, God, what’s happening?” Layla reached down like she was going to pat Kara on the back, then seemed to think better of it. “Kara?”

“My guess is she’s having a contraction,” Angela said as Kara began to breathe like…well, like a woman having contractions. At least, like women having contractions on TV always breathed—Brynn had never actually seen anyone having contractions in real life.

Kara nodded frantically, huffing and puffing like a steam engine, her ponytail bobbing wildly. “This…really…hurts.”

“Shit,” Angela muttered as Brynn trotted up. “You filming?”

“Never stopped,” Brynn confirmed.

“Don’t,” Angela told her, then crouched to lay a hand on Kara’s knee. “How you doing, Kara?”

Her face the color of a tomato, Kara just shook her head.

“You gotta breathe through it,” Layla said and demonstrated, sucking in air through her nose, blowing it out through her mouth.

“I am…breathing,” Kara said through gritted teeth.

“Well, are you doing it right?”

“Fuck you,” Kara managed, and sucking in a big breath, bellowed out, “Jaaaaaaaaaakes!”

Tommy, who’d been skating hard for the net at the other end, put on the breaks, treating the goalie to a snow shower, and turned to squint at them. “Kara?”

“We need you, Tommy,” Angela called, waving a hand in the air, but the guys on the ice were chattering again, and Tommy was too far away to hear clearly.

“What?” he yelled, skating to the near blue line.

“We need you,” Angela yelled again, Layla adding her voice this time, and he glided to the center line, a confused frown on his face.

“What?” he asked again, and Kara, her breath back finally, opened her mouth and with enough volume to shake the banners in the rafters, bellowed, “I’m in labor, you fucking asshole!”

Anticipating him, Brynn panned the camera away from Kara and zoomed in just in time to catch the moment of slack-jawed shock, then she was scrambling to keep him in frame as he moved like lightning across the ice. By the time he got to the bench he’d shed his stick, gloves and helmet, then he was over the boards into the bench, then climbing up out of the bench and into the stands.

“Your skates!” someone shouted from behind him, but he either didn’t hear or didn’t care, and Brynn winced at the sound of steel on concrete. He clambered up the stairs, dark hair flying, and fell at Kara’s feet.

“Baby.” He fumbled for her hand, and Brynn saw him fight off a wince when her nails dug into his skin. “You okay?”

“No,” she sobbed. “It hurts, and it’s happening so fast. I’m scared.”

“I’m right here,” he promised, bringing their joined hands to his lips. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll never leave you.”

She offered him a wobbly smile. “I’m sorry I called you an asshole.”

“It’s okay. I love you.”

“I love you, too—oh, God, here comes another one.”

“Okay, all right, you’re okay. Breathe, baby. Just breathe.” Over her bowed head, his wild eyes searched out Angela’s. “What do we do?”

“I’ve got a car waiting, and I called the hospital so they know we’re coming in. They said not to wait.”

“Okay. Okay. Kara? Baby? We have to go.”

She nodded, huffing and puffing her way through the contraction.

“We need to get your skates off, Tommy,” Angela said, and he started to shift to unlace them.

“No, don’t let me go,” Kara said, clinging tighter to his hand.

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