Page 139 of Curveball

He grabs the opportunity to flee with both hands. Boy and man skirt awkwardly around each other, one exits the room while the other enters, and again, I’m stifling laughter.

But when Cass shuts the door behind him, my own malfunctioning begins. Fiddling nervously with the comforter in my lap, I eye August awkwardly. “Are you freaking out?”

August blinks. “There’s a boy in your bed.”

I grimace. “There’s a boy in my bed.”

“That’s weird.”

“It is, right?” Not gonna argue with that. “Sorry. I should’ve asked you.”

August shrugs. “S’okay. It’s Cass.”

I’m not sure what, exactly, that means but I’ll take it.

Reaching out a hand, I beckon August over. “Wanna feel something even weirder?”

Tentatively perching on my bed, he lets me take him by the wrist and press his palm to my stomach. The first kick makes him jolt and snatch his hand back in surprise. “What the hell?”

“Weird, right?”

He nods, but he gently replaces his hand—my first baby carefully saying hello to my second.

“You kicked the living shit out of me, y’know.”

“I did?”

“Oh yeah. I used to ask you what the hell I did to make you so mad. You came out angry too.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah, you were that too. Covered in blood and goo and shi—”

“Mama.”

I grin. “I take it you don’t wanna cut your baby sibling’s umbilical cord?”

Gagging and shivering, August shakes his head hard enough to rattle his brain.

I’m kind of getting a kick out of his disgust, and I’m about to ramp it up a notch by explaining the wonders of a lotus birth when a shattering crash and a loud swear steals my attention.

Playfully shoving August to his feet, I nod at the door. “Better go make sure you haven’t traumatized him for life, huh?”

“Me?” He starts to splutter but abruptly trails off when I shove the comforter off me and stand up.

When he frowns, my first instinct iscrap, I’m not wearing pants. But no, that doesn’t make sense because my maternity panties cover more than my regular bathing suit, and neither of us are precious about showing skin anyways and his pale pallor just doesn’t account for, what, seeing my bare thighs? That doesn’t make—

“Mama, you’re bleeding.”

It all happens so quickly. When I glance down and see red trickling down my thighs, my heart starts to pound, my skin goes hot, my ears ring so loudly, I barely hear August shouting for Cass. Barely notice him hurtling into the room, barely feel his hands on my skin, barely register anything he says beyond‘fuck’and‘hospital’and‘hurry.’

Fuck, I think too.Please be okay.

36

CASS

I thinkI’m having a heart attack.

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