Page 39 of With A Little Luck

My eyes get misty, and I bite my cheek to keep from bursting into tears. Once she’s satisfied that the heartbeat is good, she pulls out a weird measuring tape and palpates around Quincy’s stomach.

“You just hit thirty-four weeks, and your measurements look great.” Dr. Lindsay steps back. “You can help her up.” She reaches to the opposite side of the exam table and pulls something, allowing the table to move upright as I help Quincy sit up.

“Last night, Quincy had a fever of just shy of 108,” Trigg says, not wasting any time. “She was perfuming heavily and experiencing pain and discomfort.”

The doctor finishes washing her hands and grabs several paper towels. “Did it come down on its own?”

“No,” Hartley chimes in. “Not even close. She needed to be knotted pretty much all night.”

Dr. Lindsay smiles, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I should have been more specific. It came down once her physical needs were being met?”

“Yes, a bit.” Trigg hums. “However, it hovered at 105 for several hours.”

The doctor grabs the tablet off the counter and begins clicking around. “I see, and you were running a slight temperature at intake. 101.3 isn’t considered high for an omega. Any symptoms to indicate you might have picked up a virus? Headache, nausea, sore throat, that type of thing.”

“No,” Quincy says. “I don’t think it’s a cold or anything like that.”

“I don’t either,” Hartley says. “It’s happened two out of the last three nights. She gets hot, starts perfuming and begging. It reminds me a lot of what we’re told to look out for when an omega is about to go into heat.”

“That’s actually not unusual, especially in unbonded omegas,” the doctor says calmly.

“Before suppressants were in widespread use, we almost never saw pregnant unbonded omegas. Over the last five or ten years, that has been quietly changing to the point we now have guidelines for how to handle caring for them.” She twists toward Quincy once more.

“I had a feeling something like this would be coming, just based on your symptoms at our last appointment. It’s why I was trying to get you to commit to the Alpha Pheromone Therapy. ”

“Okay,” I growl, shoving my phone away. “But what does that mean for Quincy and the baby?”

Quincy squeezes my hand, running her thumb over mine, like she’s trying to offer me comfort.

“It means, I’m relieved Quincy now has the three of you,” Dr. Lindsay says.

“Her biology is making its needs known, and it’s up to her alphas to meet those demands.

Lots of snuggling and cuddles. Spend some time nesting, and yes, soak up that physical intimacy while you can.

If her fever won’t come down after being knotted, that’s an emergency.

If she has cramping that doesn’t resolve with knotting, same thing.

Any bleeding or severe discomfort, call us.

We have an answering service, and someone will get back to you to tell you how to proceed. ”

“Would bonding help to alleviate the symptoms?” Trigg asks.

The doctor hums. “It might. There are mixed opinions on why we see these types of symptoms in late-stage pregnancy. Some believe it’s an omega’s system mimicking a heat to draw compatible alphas for safety reasons after the omega gives birth.

It harkens back to the days before civilized society, when omegas counted on their alpha or alphas for their complete protection.

Others believe it’s an emergency beacon, flashing and telling you what she needs.

” She smiles politely at Trigg. “But again, I’m not too worried.

If Quincy were here alone, that would be a much different story. ”

“Thank you,” Quincy says.

“Of course,” the doctor replies. “Honestly, I don’t think the why is as important as what you do once those symptoms persist. Having a pack of compatible alphas to meet your physical needs is more than even we could offer.

If I placed you in the hospital to monitor your fevers, we would keep you on bed rest and give you medications to stop any early contractions.

But we know access to alpha pheromones and semen often halt those symptoms without medical intervention ever being necessary. That’s my vote.”

I almost laugh at the look of horror on Quincy’s face. She’s cute as fuck when she’s embarrassed. Not to mention, I really like the idea that I can help with something after being MIA for months.

“I’m taking notes,” Trigg says, typing away on his phone. “Are there any other symptoms we should watch out for? How high of a temperature is concerning?”

“Anything over 110 that doesn’t come down immediately after being knotted,” the doctor says, typing on her tablet in return.

“And by that, I mean, if her fever stays that high for even an hour, take her to the emergency room. If it comes down with knotting and access to pheromones, continue to monitor it. Decreased fetal movements are another big one to look out for, but if you have any concerns, call our office.”

I wonder if she gets tired of repeating the same thing over and over again in different ways. I’m sure all dads are just as neurotic as I’ve become in the last forty-eight hours.

“Knotting, nesting, and pampering,” Hart says, “got it.”

The doctor nods and goes on. “Now, the normal schedule would be to see you back at thirty-six weeks when we would do your Strep B test. But that’s two weeks away.

I don’t want you to wait that long if you’re having any concerns.

Call, and we’ll fit you in if things don’t start regulating within the next couple days. ”

“Okay, thank you,” Quincy says, leaning her head against my chest as I stand by her side.

“Baby is doing well.” Dr. Lindsay smiles. “I’m hopeful. We’d like to see your daughter stick around in there until at least thirty-seven weeks, but we’re at the stage when babies come at any time. Take care of yourself and rest up while you can.”

There’s something else we can help with. I’ll carry her anywhere she needs to go and make sure she doesn’t need to lift a finger during these last six weeks of pregnancy.

Quincy is quiet during the trip to her house, but she doesn’t seem upset. She’s more than likely exhausted from all the fucking last night.

She ends up in the passenger seat while I drive, and I keep my hand on her thigh during the trip. It’s a simple point of contact, but I can only hope my reassurance pours through my touch.

Trigg and Hartley end up in the back seat, and they talk in low murmurs about God knows what.

“Just in case you don’t remember how to get there, you’re going to take the first right, and then it’s three houses down on the left,” Quincy says out of nowhere. “I have to pee so bad. I should have gone before we left the office.”

“Actually, I believe it would be safer to park in the alleyway behind her home,” Trigg says firmly. “Second right instead of the first. Look for the two black garbage cans, and there will be a small pull-in where you can park that noses right up to the back gate.”

“I really stinking have to pee,” Quincy mutters.

“If anyone is keeping watch, it will be the least likely entry point to be seen,” Trigg says. “The neighbors will be unable to see us due to the huge brick fence that lines the entire backyard.”

Well, I suppose we know how Trigg got in and out.

“Whatever,” Quincy says in a strained tone. “Just hurry. Please. She rolled right over on my bladder, and things are getting questionable.”

I speed up a little and follow Trigg’s instructions, making the right and looking for the garbage cans. It’s easy enough to tell where I’m supposed to turn in because Quincy unbuckles and frantically points.

Damn.

It must be a real emergency.

It couldn’t have taken thirty seconds for me to get us here. I pull the truck in, concerned my back end might be hanging out in the alleyway, but we’ll be quick.

“If you could wait while my phone connects to the cameras, that would be preferable,” Trigg growls, but Quincy is already in the process of pushing open the passenger door.

I chuckle, shutting the truck off and tossing open the door. “I’ll go with her.”