Page 65 of Tossed into the Mob
It was as we’d designed it on Treyton’s computer. The walls were a pale gray with pops of yellow dotted around the room in the rug, toys, including a yellow Duckie, and the crib blanket. The love seat and the rocking chair were in position, and the books were on the shelves. Toys spilled out of the toy basket.
“It’s beautiful.” I cradled my huge bump. “What do you think, little one? Do you like it?”
I got a kick as a response, and I decided that was a yes.
Dad appeared and placed a photo album on the bookshelf. It had photos of me growing up and the one pic of me with Emilio.
“I think we're ready.”
And I couldn't wait to meet our little one.
TWENTY-THREE
TREYTON
I was exhausted as I pulled off my surgical gloves and tossed them in the disposal bin. But the alpha and omega holding their newborn and their joyful tears mingling and dropping on the newborn’s head made it all worthwhile.
The omega and baby were healthy, and my job was done. I congratulated them and left the delivery suite.
It was strange doing temp work at the same hospital where I’d worked before Brock stumbled into my life. I was living the dream because I was deep into the process of developing that mobile service for pregnant omegas who didn’t have adequate medical care.
Using my skills for those who needed it most felt right, but I couldn’t have done it without a sizable personal donation from Flint. Not all shifters were well off, and many were unable to give birth without complications, especially if their partner was human
I’d wanted to get a bank loan, but Grandpa or my folks would have had to be guarantors because I didn’t have much money. I’d initially rejected the offer from Flint, feeling as though I should have to work hard and save up, like most people.
Brock and I discussed it, and he pointed out that omegas needed this service, and was I going to let my pride get in the way of providing it? Him reading me the riot act kicked me into gear, and I accepted the funding from my cousin. The service was close to being ready, with two vans and a couple of midwives, and if it was a success, I hoped to expand.
My phone buzzed as I got changed out of my scrubs.
In the parking garage with Dad. Have you finished?
He and Niles had been in the mall across from the hospital picking up last-minute baby items, though I wasn’t sure what they were. The nursery, laundry, and freezer were groaning with bedding, baby clothes, diapers, toys, books, and food.
Niles was here because Brock’s due date was in two weeks. He was officially full-term, and tomorrow was the last day on my schedule. I didn’t want to be delivering someone else’s baby when my mate went into labor.
“Night, Treyton.” I waved at Clement, recalling us greeting one another the night I met Brock. “Great work tonight.”
“Thanks. See you tomorrow. It’s my last day.”
The elevator descended to the parking level, and my body responded as I got closer to my mate. Even if we’d been apart for an hour, I couldn’t wait to be with him, holding his hand or brushing against him. No matter how tired I was, being in my mate’s presence was similar to being plugged in and recharged.
Hope we don’t get electrocuted, my wolf jested.
Look at you, making a joke.
I stepped off the elevator and spotted my car, the same dinged-up one I’d had for the last year. It was in my usual spot, and it brought back memories of me approaching the car and Brock appearing, bleeding and with the gun in his pocket. The memory was etched in my mind, and I could almost smell the blood.
Brock wasn’t in the car as I’d expected. He was standing beside it. Damn, he must have forgotten his key and he’d been standing this whole time. But as I got closer, I picked up his heavy breathing, and he was bracing himself against the car while the other hand was pressed to his lower back.
Gods, no. Something was wrong.
Make him better, my beast insisted.
Niles was encouraging Brock to sit in the car while he got an orderly from the hospital to bring a wheelchair.
“Brock.” I jogged to my mate, and when he looked at me, I recognized his expression, one I’d witnessed on many of my laboring patients. He was focused on his breathing while trying to manage the pain.
“My water broke.” He panted and closed his eyes. “Baby’s… coming.” He doubled over, and Niles moved to the side so Brock could lean on me. My mate was breathing hard through his pursed lips, and without thinking, I timed his contraction. Shit, it lasted sixty seconds.
