Page 19 of The Promises We Broke
Delaney's voice, but there was something wrong with it. Something panicked.
I grabbed my crutch and hauled myself to my feet, awkwardly making my way toward the front door. Delaney was on the porch, one hand pressed against the doorframe, the other clutching her very pregnant belly. Her face was flushed, her breathing rapid and shallow.
"Gage! Thank God. Where's Trace? Where's Xander?"
"They're at a meeting in the city still," I said, alarm bells going off in my head. "Delaney, are you..."
She doubled over suddenly, gripping the porch railing as a sound of pain escaped her lips. I moved as quickly as I could to reach her side. This was bad. This was very, very bad.
When she straightened, her eyes were wide with something that looked like panic.
"The baby's coming. NOW."
This couldn't be happening. I was a construction worker with a broken leg and basic first aid training. I delivered building materials, not babies. But Delaney was gripping my arm like I was her lifeline, and there was no time to find someone more qualified.
"No, no, no," I said, my voice rising with my panic. "Babies don't come this fast. We can make it to the hospital."
"Gage, I can feel the baby coming!"
"Can you... hold it in? Just for twenty minutes?"
The look she gave me between contractions could have melted steel and I swear my balls retreated inside my body for fear of their safety.
"I'm calling 911," I said, fumbling for my phone with shaking hands.
"Already tried," she gasped. "Phone died, but they said twenty minutes minimum for the ambulance."
Twenty minutes. In twenty minutes, I could be holding my nephew or niece. Or I could be responsible for something going catastrophically wrong because I didn't know what the hell I was doing.
"You're going to have to help me," Delaney said, her voice steadier than mine despite the fact that she was the one in labor.
"I've never... I don't know how to..."
"Figure it out!" she suddenly shouted.
Another contraction hit her, stronger than the last, and I watched her double over again, breathing hard through the pain. This was really happening. There was no cavalry coming, no one more qualified rushing to take over. Just me, with my broken body and complete lack of experience, and Delaney, who was counting on me to keep both her and her baby safe.
"Okay," I said, trying to summon some authority I didn't feel, and pretending not to hear the wobble in my voice. "Okay. Let's get you inside. To the couch."
I helped her into the living room, my crutch awkward but functional as I tried to support her weight without jarring my own injuries. In reality she probably helped me more than I was helping her. Christ, I needed a paper bag to breathe into or something.
Delaney was breathing hard, sweat beading on her forehead, and every few minutes another contraction would hit and she'd grab onto whatever was nearest.
"Okay, this can't be much different than delivering a calf, I kind of saw someone do that once." I was panicking now, I could feel the inevitable spiral. "How far apart are the contractions?" I asked, trying to remember anything I'd ever heard about childbirth.
"Did you just compare me to a cow?" Delaney roared.
"No... shit... maybe. I'm trying here Delaney, but I'm not going to lie, I'm freaking out a bit."
Delaney locked eyes with me after a particularly brutal contraction and I saw sympathy in her gaze. I didn't think I could hit a new low and yet here I was finding one because this woman in the middle of childbirth was about to try and manage my freak out when she was actually in the process of creating a brand new life.
"Okay. No. We can do this," I muttered, stretching out my arms like that could possibly help in any way. "Contractions, pushing, baby. How hard can it be?"
I looked up and saw the look of pure violence on her face and grimaced. "Well... hard obviously. You're doing an amazing job. Erm... right, contractions."
There was no way I could fail at this any worse than I was right now.
"Two minutes," she gasped, thankfully taking the less violent route even though I could see how much she'd prefer it. "Maybe less," she added as she flopped back down on the couch and started to pant.
