Page 62 of Laurels and Liquor

Lex lets out a frustrated huff, and I hear her shoes on the floor as she moves to stand behind me. Her hand is cool against the back of my neck, and I close my eyes as she rubs slightly, tension leaking away under her touch.

“You can stay, but under a few conditions,” Lex starts, speaking into my ear.

I nod, already agreeing before I even listen to what she has to say.

“I’m going to send Lucas to stay with you. He’ll keep an eye on you, try to keep things from escalating too quickly. But if he says you’re at the point of no return, you will listen to him and come home immediately. Do you understand, lovely?”

Lex’s voice takes on that strange, unrelenting quality that runs straight to the primal part of my mind, melting it like ice cream on pavement in July. I nod mindlessly, not hesitating for a moment. I know I can handle myself, but if having our beta here will make her feel better, then so be it. And if push comes to shove, I know I can convince Lucas to let me stay. Lex kisses me softly before she turns to Caleb and gives him a stern, assessing look. Not that he notices. His attention is entirely focused on Sylvie, helping her to breathe through a contraction. She gives up after a minute, then kisses me one more time before heading out of the door.

Not long after, I get a text from Lucas, letting me know he’s in the Labor and Delivery waiting room and to keep him posted. I only manage a quick, one-word reply before I’m drawn back to Sylvie and helping her sit up. She wants to walk, and I don’t want her to fall and hurt herself. But she’s willing to try anything to get this baby moving.

The sun set a long time ago, leaving the only artificial lights overhead to illuminate the space. Every second that ticks by drags on my nerves, leaving me feeling raw and hot and uncomfortable. I’ve shed my t-shirt, leaving me only in a sports bra and flimsy tank top, but it hardly matters. My skin is damp, and sensitive to every brush of air or accidental touch. My legs ache, and the sticky mess on my inner thighs grows to almost uncomfortable levels. But I can tolerate this. It’s nothing compared to what poor Sylvie has been going through.

We’re on the tenth hour of labor, according to the doctor, and they’re almost ready for her to push. Even with the pain medication, she moans and groans with every contraction. They’re nearly constant now, with only brief gaps for her to catch her breath. But I’m right there with her, holding her hand and letting her crush it in an effort to channel her rage and pain into something else. My floral scent is masking most of the other scents in the room, and it’s strong even to my nose. But I keep purring and pushing out the calming pheromones for Caleb, which in turn allows him to keep his head enough to use his alpha voice to help his mate. I can’t imagine what sort of state they would be in if I weren’t here.

“All right, Mrs. Novak. Feet up in the stirrups. We’re ready for pushing whenever you are,” the doctor, a serene female beta whose name escapes me, says as she pulls a stool toward the end of the bed.

“I was ready an hour ago, but y’all wanted me to pump the brakes,” Sylvie grumbles, not as softly as she thinks, judging by the nurses’ chuckles from behind me.

There’re a few moments of shifting to get her into the right spot, but we finally get to where the doctor wants. Caleb is on Sylvie’s right, me on her left, both of us clutching her hands tight. Caleb leans down and kisses her forehead, whispering something I don’t quite catch, but that makes Sylvie smile wanly. But the moment is cut short as another contraction wracks her body.

“Push now! Ten seconds, you can do it!” The doctor counts slowly, interjecting praise and encouragement until the time is up, and Sylvie collapses back against the pillows.

“Again! Come on, you’ve got this,” a nurse says from over my shoulder.

I purr harder than I’ve ever done before in my life, my stomach clenching over and over, almost in sympathy with the omega before me. Caleb can’t take his eyes off Sylvie, but I glance down at the doctor, catching the worried furrow of her brow and the serious frown pulling down her lips.

“Okay, relax, baby. You’re doing great. Take a breather and wait for the next one,” the nurse behind me soothes.

Caleb strokes Sylvie’s face, but I’m still focused on the doctor. The longer she’s quiet, the harder my heart kicks in my chest. There’s a noise from the hall, and it muffles whatever the doctor says to the nurse at her side, but the blanching on the young man’s face, followed by his scampering exit from the room, says enough.

“What’s going on?” I demand loudly.

“Nothing to panic about. I’m calling in my colleague to assist me. It seems like baby’s shoulder might be a little stuck,” the doctor says, voice way too light for my heart to take.

“What do you mean ‘stuck?’” I ask, voice rising in fear.

Caleb and Sylvie look up at that, Caleb’s alpha growl making the whole room go quiet. The doctor takes a deep breath and I think she tries to smile, but the paper mask over her face doesn’t help.

“It’s going to be okay. I’ve handled this sort of presentation before. I just want to make sure we’re prepared for anything. We’re going to keep Mom and Baby safe,” she replies, unshaken.

A moment later, another doctor, a man this time, flies in through the door, his white coat flaring like a cape behind him. There’s a rapid exchange of medical jargon between the two doctors, but I don’t process any of it. The male doctor’s eyes find mine, narrowing in a glare.

“Why are you here?” he spits harshly.

I blink at his sudden angry tone, but recover quickly.

“My friend needs me,” I reply simply, not letting this man judge me or intimidate me.

“You’re about to go into heat. You’re not helping—”

“How about you focus on the lady giving birth, asshole? She stays,” Sylvie snarls, trying to sit up onto her elbows, but not making it as another contraction hits.

“Don’t push right now! We need you—”

“Can’t fucking stop if I tried, Molly,” Sylvie cries over the female doctor.

Molly swallows and gives her colleague a harsh look before snapping out instructions. He rolls his eyes, setting my teeth on edge, but decides to cooperate. Trading places with Molly, he positions himself to catch while the other doctor helps Sylvie pull her knees to her chest, instructing Caleb and me to hold on to her and keep her there.

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