Page 112 of The Rush

The notion slicks over my knotted stomach and has me turning toward my girl, whose eyes are already on me, watching me.

And what I see rips me up enough to have me dropping to my knees in front of her.

“Sweetness,” I croak, my hands going to her thighs as she unravels herself from Aurora and leans to me with a tear soaked face.

“Why aren’t they telling us anything, Fin?” Cedar asks with a thick voice and more unshed tears hanging off of her gorgeous lashes.

My chest aches at the sight, my heart splintering for her and my brother, and his girl who’s all alone in a hospital bed.

And that just won’tfucking do.

Shaking my head, I reach up and swipe away the streak from her cheeks as she sniffles.

“I don’t know, sweet.” I take her hands in mine and kiss her knuckles. Breathing in her scent fuels me, expands my chest and increases the reckless anger I’ve been trying to hold back for quite some time. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

What started out as anxiety pumping my blood fast morphs into rage the longer I see Cedar’s fallen face. The more I hear Rex’s thudding paces wear a pattern in the tile without answers as to why the fucking father isn’t back there with his future wife.

Fuck hospital policy.

I’m pushing to my feet with a lingering press of my lips to Cedar’s forehead only to spin and catch Rex’s body, forcing his feet to stop with my hands to his chest.

“Let’s go get your girl, Poppa.” His bloodshot eyes focus on me, his jaw stiff with tension, but he nods in determination and lets me spin him back in the direction of the blue clad staff.

It takes some convincing, with only minor threats to the hospital security that shows up for the assist, before we finally get a white coat in front of us spewing words in what seems like another language I hope that I never have to hear again.

Something about patients being under anesthesia and unable to answer specific questions that allow certain family members to enter the room during a difficult delivery.

Or in this case, emergency C-section.

Especially when the patient is high profile.

Ian was the one to get Aria into the emergency room while Rex was stuck by a horde of fans at the damn grocery store, meaning he was just a few minutes short of getting the clearance he needed to enter.

All of the noise we make gets my family escorted out of the general population waiting area to the neonatal wing of the hospital where, just down the hall from them, I get to watch my brother throw his massive amounts of curls into a knot and scrub up through a pane of glass.

I can’t hear but see the sink spray the water I’m certain would be hot enough to make Cedar happy as Rex washes up, or the paper gear they cover him in, and if the circumstances were different, it would be a funny sight to behold. But not today. Not like this.

The nurses rush around him, making sure things are tucked and tied and covered long enough that I see his snarling growl make them jump straight out of their skin and have them ushering him off toward the door.

He plants an elbow into the panel, only to pause and take one last look at me through the window.

That’s when I see it all shining in his blue-green irises.

The fear.

Pride.

Hurt and guilt.

Love.

I firm my jaw and hold that gaze until he settles on determination and juts his chin in my direction.

It’s go time, Rex.

I return the nod, and watch my brother disappear through the second set of doors with his shoulders squared and his head held high.

Rex Thompson is about to be a father.

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