Page 219 of Bad Reputation

“It’ll be a good story,” I say in concentrated breaths. “Won’t it?”

“Oh for sure,” Garrison tells me confidently, but he’s supremely focused on my slow pace and my breathing. “You okay?”

I nod, trying not to freak out. “If I had a choice though, we would’ve been watching New Mutants. I always thought…she’d be way more into the…you know, superhero portion of Disney…not the princesses. Not that we’ve met her. She’s not here yet. We don’t really know what she’ll be like, I guess, but she’s wanting to come out during Mulan.” I’m panicking a little. I’m about to give birth.

Is she going to be okay?

Will I poop myself?

Garrison tightens his hold on my clammy hand.

Lo picks up his pace, walking ahead of me. He catches my gaze to say, “She’s going to be a little superhero no matter what. Just look at who her parents are.”

Warmth fills me, and something more painful. “Ugh. I think she’s rebelling at that thought.”

“Or she just wants out,” Garrison says. “Plus, I’m all for not having a kid who thinks she can jump off shit and fly.”

Lo winces. “I hear you on that.”

After bursting through the rear emergency exit, we meet up with Lo’s bodyguard at the curb, and I’m grateful for the simplicity of just hopping in the SUV and letting a driver take me to the hospital. Pain intensifies not even midway into the car ride, and everything blurs around me.

“How are you feeling?” Garrison asks, his brows knotted and hand still clasped in mine.

I don’t talk.

I’m trying to breathe. God, it hurts.

My silence scares Garrison. He leans forward from the backseat, my brother in the passenger with his bodyguard behind the wheel.

“Hey, can we go any faster?!” Garrison’s panic starts panicking me.

Lo shoots him an edged look. “Take a breath, man.”

Garrison glowers. “I am not—and I repeat—I am not having a kid in a car like Connor and Rose.”

Lo reaches over and puts a hand on Garrison’s shoulder. I feel like he’s going to give some sage advice, but then he says, “It was a limo.”

He blinks. “Seriously?”

“Garrison, everything will be fine,” Lo tries to assure. “Your baby. Your wife. You. All fine. We’re making it there as fast as we can.” He looks to his bodyguard. “Right, Bruno?”

Bruno nods. “I’m going fifteen over.”

“There you go,” Lo says to Garrison.

My husband slowly leans back.

I want to say I’m okay.

Say it.

Try, at least.

I open my mouth to reassure him. To say those two words. I’m okay.

“I—aaahhhhh,” I groan into a scream and hug myself.

“Lo!” Garrison yells like my brother is inflicting this pain. Garrison clutches my hand, and I fear I’m cutting off all his circulation, but I can’t stop.

The SUV suddenly slows down, and Lo’s face contorts into pure horror. He doesn’t have to say the obvious. Outside the window, headlights practically kiss bumpers all around us.

We’re stuck in Philly traffic.

Lo is on the phone while I squeeze my eyes closed and breathe. Garrison rubs my shoulder and reminds me to tell him if he needs to do something. Like what…? He can’t actually be preparing for a birth in the SUV?

No.

We’re not that screwed. We can still reach the hospital.

“A helicopter,” Lo deadpans on the phone. “Just go ahead and fly a chopper right onto the Mercedes next to me…bro, we’re in traffic. I’m not near a goddamn landing pad.” He pauses. “I can’t run with our sister—she’s in labor…the hospital is ten miles away…I’m trying!”

I flinch.

Garrison scoots to the front. “Lo. You’re freaking Willow out.”

“Sorry, my brother is trying to come up with amazing solutions.” Lo sounds frustrated.

“Tell Ryke to shut up and put the tall one on the line. He’s actually delivered a baby.” I open an eye and notice Garrison’s phone on the seat beside me.

He has WikiHow popped up. The title: How to deliver a baby.

No, no. I don’t want to do this here. Tears crease my eyes, and when Garrison slides back beside me, he sees the waterworks blurring my vision.

“Willow.” His voice cracks, and he wipes beneath my fogging glasses.

“I don’t want to have the baby here, Garrison.” My voice shakes. “She has to wait. I can’t do this here. I can’t—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re not doing this here.” He cups my face with two hands, and the strength but tenderness in the hold eases my racing pulse and staggered breath. I rub at my wet eyes, and I nod, listening to him repeat the words.

We’re not doing this here.

We’re going to the hospital.

It’ll be okay.

My phone pings, but I don’t answer. Garrison says it’s Daisy texting. I’m too busy trying to thwart off the pain. I stop watching the traffic do nothing.

I just concentrate on breathing.

“Open your eyes, Willow,” Garrison murmurs.

I do, and I nearly burst into tears. The SUV is sitting outside the hospital doors. Lo has jumped out to go grab a wheelchair.

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