Page 144

Slowly, the blinding pain ebbs, and when I open my eyes, it hits me that everyone in the room—even Remy—even Kaz—seems to have frozen with me in the agony. I exhale a trembling breath, looking up into Pace’s eyes. It’s such a relief to know he’s here, his presence giving off that electric hum that I’ve grown accustomed to when all of us are in bed together, late at night.

I part my lips to say something gracious and profound, but what emerges is, “I’mnotgiving birth in front of ten frat boys.”

Pace releases the breath he’s been holding with a quiet, nervous laugh. “Well, these frat boys are about to become men, because it really seems like he’s coming, Rosi.”

Belligerently, I note, “They’re not even our frat!” and Wicker gapes at me.

“That’swhat you’re worried about?”

From across the room, Remy jerks his chin. “Excuse me—nine frat boys and an uncle.” He grins at Kaz. “I’m going to be an uncle.”

Pace shoots him an unamused glare. “We need to get you somewhere. Isn’t there a lounge?”

Mama makes a wild, frustrated gesture. “It’s being searched by those dumbfucks at the moment, along with my office.”

Growling, Pace scans the room, his eyes coming to a stop on the ring in the middle of the gym. “Oh, hell no. The kitchen?”

Before I can fall to pieces at the thought of having my baby next to a fucking stove, Pauly appears. “The training room.” He points to the door. “They’re already done searching it. I’ve got sterilized mats and plenty of towels.”

Pace doesn’t waste any time. He bends, hooks a forearm behind my knees, and fluidly lifts me. “Let’s go.”

It’s not much better than the kitchen, but when Pauly and Mama rush in ahead of us, I’m resigned to my fate. Together, Pauly and Wicker slam a thick blue sparring mat on the floor, gesturing for Pace to bring me over.

As he’s lowering me to the mat, I hear, “You’re going to have to check her, Pace. See how dilated she is.” Lex’s strained voice makes me startle, and I search out the sound, realizing Wicker has him on speaker.

“Lex?” I cry, the fear finding a foothold as Pace reaches under my dress, dragging my underwear down my thighs. “Where are you?”

His voice emerges in a panicked rush, “I’m about to hit West End now. Tell me where we are.”

Terrified, I struggle to get the words out. “I don’t know how to explain it. It feels…” I gasp as Pace’s fingers enter me, his dark eyes holding mine. “... like a ton of pressure. He’s close.” In my periphery, I see Mama shooting Pauly a knowing grimace.

Pace deflates, glancing at the phone. “Look, dude, I don’t know this centimeter shit, but I’m pretty sure all systems are go here.”

I tense, a sharp intake of breath heralding the onset of another contraction. Pain surges through me like a tidal wave, starting deep in my abdomen and radiating outward in relentless pulses. I grip for the closest thing I find, fingers digging into hard flesh, eyes squeezed shut as I ride out the crest of the worst contraction yet. A bead of sweat trickles down my temple, and when it finally fades off, I emerge to find Wicker clutching my hand, his blue eyes wide and unwavering.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” To the phone, Wicker explains, “Another contraction. This one seemed worse.”

Lex mutters a sharp curse. “Verity? Do you feel like you have to push?”

Already exhausted, I consider the way it feels deep inside, confessing, “Kind of.”

“Goddamn it,” Lex mutters. “I just hit the blockade. Pace and Wick are going to take care of you until I get there. If you have to push, just—you remember the breathing, right?”

The panic rises again, and I look at Pace, feeling the tears welling up. “Not without Lex,” I cry, the misery threatening to overtake me. “I can’t do this without Lex.” I sob, long and pitiful, and it’s pathetic. Nothing is right. I’m going to bring this baby into the world all wrong.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Wicker whispers, his drawn face coming into view. “Here soon, you’re going to be holding Justice. That’s good, isn’t it?”

I pull in a sniffle, trying to imagine that lumpy little face I saw in the ultrasound. “Yeah,” I decide, wiping my eyes.

“You’re excited?” Wicker asks.

I nod, trying to gather myself. “Yeah, I am.”

“Me too, Red.” His grip tightens around my hand as he flashes me one of his prized grins. “You want to know the middle name we picked out for him?”

My heart skips a beat. I’d given them the task of choosing a middle name weeks ago, but since none of them brought it up again, I figured they just forgot or were unable to decide.

On a hitched breath, I ask, “What’d you pick?”