Page 88 of Chasing The Goal
Up two floors.
In my apartment.
With a woman wearing my hoodie and carrying the best thing I never knew I wanted.
I closed my eyes for a second as the team swarmed Logan for his game-ending block.
Mallory
The Carolina Cats wereup by two, and Jaymie was pacing the commentary like he belonged in the coach’s box. His knee bounced in rhythm with the play, one arm slung over the back of the couch behind me. Every time the Cats dumped the puck, he muttered a critique under his breath.
I was barely listening.
I was too warm, too swollen, and the spot under my rib had been aching since lunch. I shifted, adjusting the pillow behind me and resting a hand over my belly. The baby rolled under my skin, a slow, lazy turn that made me smile—until a bolt of pain cracked through my abdomen like lightning.
“Shit,” I breathed, straightening fast. My hand gripped the arm of the couch, fingers going white.
Jaymie noticed instantly. “What’s wrong?”
“I think…” I exhaled, trying to breathe through the sudden pressure. “I think that was a contraction.”
He froze. The TV might as well have gone black. He grabbed the remote, paused the game, and turned to me completely.
“How long have they been happening?”
I shook my head. “That was the first real one. I think. Maybe it was just a braxton hicks,”
He didn’t panic, but I saw the switch flip in his eyes—his game face, focused and ready.
“We’re gonna time the next one,” he said, standing to grab his phone. “Just in case.”
I nodded, still trying to process the first.
The next one came ten minutes later, then another. They weren’t unbearable yet, just sharp, low, and persistent. I moved to the exercise ball Darren had gifted me, bouncing gently, circling my hips in wide, slow motions. It helped. A little. He would get a huge kick out of this later on. Jaymie crouched in front of me, stopwatch on his phone, counting through each one.
“You’re doing great,” he said, brushing the hair from my face. “Want to walk for a bit?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
He helped me up, holding my hand as we slowly paced the apartment, one lap, then two. The second we turned back toward the living room, I felt a gush of warmth soak my leggings.
“Oh my God.” I stopped short. “I think my water just broke.”
Jaymie’s eyes went wide, his mouth parting in shock for half a second before he caught himself.
“Okay. Okay, it’s fine. We’ll grab the bag and go.”
But the next contraction hit like a truck—sharp, low, and twice as strong, I dropped down to all fours and prayed it would be over soon.
“I can’t,” I gasped. “Jaymie, I don’t think I can make it to the car.”
"Let me carry you then," He tried to help me stand which resulted in another piercing contraction.
"I don't think, I don't think I can," my body was shaking and I needed to get these stupid leggings off me.
He didn’t argue. Just cupped my face with both hands and said, “Then we stay. Let’s get you in the bath, maybe that will help. Come on.”
I was scared now. Really, truly scared. This wasn’t how I thought it would happen. This was fast—too fast. He helped me crawl to the bathroom and take my soaked leggings off between each wave. They were coming in abouttwo minutes apart, barely giving myself any time to breathe.
