Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
Theo is 32 weeks pregnant
Baby is the size of a cantaloupe
“ A lright, what am I making for dinner?” I called to Theo, who was sprawled on the couch, feet propped up, scrolling aimlessly on her phone.
I’d come home from work not long ago to find her fast asleep, drool pooling on my throw pillow while some old true-crime show droned on about a missing murder weapon from twenty years ago. Now she was awake, but something felt... off. Theo wasn’t one to zone out on her phone.
Her responses were minimal, and there was a pained expression etched onto her face that she couldn’t quite hide.
The rain outside began to hit the window, we were supposed to be getting a pretty nasty storm tonight.
From the living room, a faint groan answered my question, followed by the soft rustle of fabric as she shifted.
“Hey, is everything okay?” I asked, walking around the couch, the kitchen towel slung over my shoulder.
“Yeah,” she sighed, her forearm draped lazily over her eyes, the other hand resting protectively on her belly. “I’m just... not very hungry.”
Her tone told me something else was going on. “Can I do anything?” I asked, gently taking her arm and nudging it away from her face. She cracked one eye open, gave me a tired look, and then closed it again.
“Maybe... chocolate milk?” she finally murmured, holding out her hands.
I helped her up, feeling the weight of her leaning into me as she stood. She waddled toward the kitchen, one hand on her lower back. She barely made it to the island before collapsing onto one of the stools with a groan.
“Chocolate milk it is,” I said, heading to the fridge.
“Wait, what about strawberry instead?”
I smirked, grabbing both the chocolate and strawberry powders from the cabinet. Setting them on the counter, I turned to face her, crossing my arms. “Your call, but you seem conflicted.”
Theo stared at the options, her brow furrowing. “No... chocolate,” she decided, then hesitated, her lips twitching in indecision.
I waited.
“Ugh!” She groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “I don’t know what I want!”
Laughing, I grabbed both containers and walked toward her. Kneeling in front, I gently turned her stool to face me. Placing my ear against her belly, I held up the chocolate powder.
“What are you doing?” Theo asked, laughing despite her mood as her fingers found their way into my hair.
“Letting the baby decide,” I said matter-of-factly. “Alright, little girl, which one is it?”
I switched to holding up the strawberry powder, and right on cue, the baby gave a solid kick.
“That doesn’t actually work!” Theo giggled, shaking her head, though the smile on her face was worth every second of my theatrics.
“Apparently, it does,” I teased, standing up with mock triumph. “She wants strawberry, but you want chocolate. How about I make both?”
Theo bit her lip, nodding. “That works.”
As I grabbed two glasses, my phone buzzed in my back pocket. I set the glasses on the counter and answered, tucking it between my ear and shoulder.
“Hello?”
“Hey, man,” Boone’s voice came through, rushed and urgent. “Hate to do this to you, but I need you back at the ranch. It’s bad—a calf’s tangled in the barbed wire. She’s panicked, and the vet won’t make it in time. She’s already torn part of the fence down, and the other cattle are starting to wander. I’m afraid they’ll break loose.”
“Shit,” I muttered, pouring milk into each glass while keeping an eye on Theo. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thanks. Sorry to pull you back like this.”
“No worries. I’m on my way.”
I hung up, stirring the drinks quickly and setting them in front of her. She watched me with a mix of curiosity and concern, an expression that was shadowed by something deeper.
“That was Boone,” I explained. “There’s an emergency at the ranch. I’ve gotta go. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”
“Oh shit,” she murmured, worry flickering in her eyes. “I hope everything’s okay.”
“Theo,” I said gently, placing a hand on her arm. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, I thought she might tell me. Instead, she nodded. “I’m fine. Go. Boone needs you.”
I hesitated, my gut telling me not to leave her like this. Theo gave me a small, encouraging smile, her hand resting on my forearm.
I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
As I turned to leave, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
Boone wasn’t wrong—this was bad. The poor calf was tangled so tightly in the barbed wire that for a moment, I stood there unsure how I could even begin to help. The storm didn’t make it any easier. Rain poured in unrelenting sheets, drenching everything and turning the dirt beneath my boots into a slick, treacherous mess. Thunder rumbled low and ominous, a promise that the worst was yet to come.
Right now, the priority wasn’t the calf—it was the fence. I couldn’t risk the rest of the herd spooking and bolting. Slamming the shovel into the wet ground, I dug a new hole for the replacement post, mud splattering my jeans and boots with every movement. Boone had managed to get the calf to drier ground, working to untangle the barbs while coordinating with the vet over the phone. With the storm rolling in, the vet’s arrival would be been delayed.
“Rhodes!” A voice cut through the storm, faint and unfamiliar at first.
I froze, my hands gripping the shovel tightly as I squinted into the downpour. The rain blurred everything, but I could make out a figure running toward me, their movements frantic.
“Rhodes!” they called again, louder this time, and my heart stuttered. It wasn’t Boone. This voice was feminine, urgent.
Dropping the shovel, I shielded my eyes with one hand, trying to make sense of the scene through the chaos of rain and wind. The figure grew clearer, a bright pink raincoat, hood pulled tight against the storm.
“Aspen?” I called, disbelief lacing my voice. What the hell was she doing out here in this weather?
By the time she reached me, she was out of breath, her face partially hidden beneath the hood. “What are you doing here?” I demanded, grabbing her arm and dragging her under the shelter of a massive weeping willow. The thick branches offered little relief from the downpour, but it was better than nothing.
“Have you checked your phone?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“No. Why?”
She yanked her hood down, revealing a pale, frightened face. Water streamed down her cheeks, though whether it was from the rain or something else, I couldn’t tell.
“It’s Theo,” she said.
Time stopped. The rain, the wind, the thunder, all of it faded into a hollow, numbing silence. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else.
“She’s been trying to call you,” Aspen continued, her voice trembling.
Fumbling, I pulled my phone from my back pocket, swiping at the screen to clear the water. Twenty missed calls stared back at me, Theo’s name flashing in all of them.
“Wha-whats going on?” I muttered, my voice cracking as I looked back at Aspen.
“She called me to get you,” Aspen said, her words hurried and frantic. “She didn’t want to scare you, but she said she wasn’t feeling right. Something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but?—”
She didn’t get to finish because I was already running.
My boots slipped in the mud, my legs burning as they pushed forward through the slick field. My truck was still parked near the fence line, and I barreled toward it.
“Rhodes!” Boone’s voice shouted after me, I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
I reached the truck and yanked on the handle, only to realize I hadn’t unlocked it. “Damn it!” My hands fumbled for the keys, my fingers shaking as I tried to focus.
“What’s going on?” Boone had caught up to me, his breathing heavy as he stood just behind me.
I turned to face him, my chest heaving, rainwater dripping from my hair and chin. “It’s Theo,” I said, my voice breaking under the weight of her name.
The look in his eyes shifted instantly—concern morphing into alarm.
I didn’t wait for him to respond. I flung the truck door open and climbed in, slamming it shut behind me. My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as I started the engine, my mind racing with every worst-case scenario imaginable.
I broke every Goddamn speed limit back to the house.
“Theo!” I yelled, barreling into the house. Dirty boots be damned, I didn’t give a fuck.
“I’m in here!” She called from down the hall in her bedroom. I strode in, my boots slamming against the floor. Coming to a halt when I saw her sitting, bent and holding her belly, I had to catch my breath.
She looked up, her eyes sad and turned down.
“There’s something wrong. I’m having these weird contractions and I’m scared.” She panted.
“It’s okay,” I said, stepping closer to her. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” she said between labored breaths, trying to push through the pain.
“Don’t you dare be sorry. I’m here,” I reassured, crouching down to be at her eye level. Her hazel orbs stared at me, a red tinge to the whites of her eyes like she had been crying. “What do you need from me? Do you want to go to the urgent care in town? The city? Theo, tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen.”
She thought for a moment, taking steady, practiced breaths like the ones learned from all those childbirth books.
Watching her now made me realize how out of touch I was for her to give birth. I silently hoped this wasn’t the moment because I desperately needed to know more. To know how to be able to help her through it.
Finally, she nodded and tried to stand.
“Urgent care,” she breathed and I swooped her up in my arms, carrying her out of the house and to my truck.
I didn’t waste a second as I pushed through the emergency doors, Theo cradled tightly in my arms. My heart was hammering, adrenaline coursing through me like a wildfire. Calm wasn’t an option.
Theo let out a quiet whimper against my chest, and guilt twisted inside me like a blade. I’d known something wasn’t right earlier, and still, I left her.
Never again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a wheelchair against the wall. I didn’t care whose it was or what rules I might’ve been breaking. Nobody was going to stop me. Carefully, I lowered Theo into it and wheeled her toward the reception desk, my pulse a steady roar in my ears.
“Sir, you can’t just?—”
“She needs a doctor, now ,” I growled, my voice sharp and edged with panic. I leaned across the desk, fists planted, daring anyone to argue. “She’s thirty-two weeks pregnant and in pain. Get someone here. Now. ”
“Rhodes,” Theo’s soft voice cut through the fog in my head. She reached out, her fingers brushing against my forearm. “I’m okay,” she whispered, her eyes meeting mine.
Her touch, her voice snapped me back to reality. I blinked, realizing how I must’ve looked: wild-eyed, frantic, out of control. This wasn’t helping her. It wasn’t helping the baby.
I took a shaky breath and closed my eyes, forcing myself to count backward from five. When I opened them again, I straightened and offered the terrified receptionist a tight, apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice calmer but still laced with urgency. “ Please , can you get her a doctor?”
Theo nudged her way forward in the wheelchair, her calm composure a stark contrast to my barely contained panic. She started speaking to the woman behind the desk, her tone soothing, her strength humbling me.
I stepped back, raking a hand through my hair as I tried to pull myself together. Fear was clawing at my insides, raw and relentless. The thought of anything happening to her or the baby was too much. My actions had been out of line, and I knew it. But damn it, I was scared. I was more scared than I’d ever been in my life.
“Sir, we’re going to take her back now,” the receptionist called to me after a moment, her tone much gentler.
I moved quickly, closing the distance between us in a few long strides. Theo was sitting quietly, her hands gripping the wheelchair’s arms, her breathing slow and measured.
“Can I go with her?” I asked, my voice low, almost pleading.
Theo reached for me, her pinky hooking around mine. That small touch unraveled me. She looked up, her face pale and steady, as she managed a soft, reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay,” she murmured.
I squeezed her hand, reluctant to let her go but knowing I had to. As a nurse approached to take her back, she gave me one last look—a look that told me she was holding it together.
And then she was gone, leaving me standing there, helpless and a bit hollow.
I spent the rest of the night in a stiff waiting room chair, my legs bouncing restlessly, my mind spinning in endless loops. Hours seemed to stretch into days. At some point, I must’ve drifted off because the next thing I knew, a doctor was standing in front of me.
He was tall and thin, with kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, the sort of face you instinctively trusted. I shot to my feet, every muscle in my body tense as I waited for him to speak.
“She’s okay,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “The baby is okay too. It was a case of Braxton Hicks, false contractions that can feel very real and understandably scary.”
A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding rushed out of me, leaving me lightheaded with relief.
“We’ve put her on bed rest,” the doctor continued. “Very limited activity until the baby comes. We don’t want to risk inducing labor, so we’ll monitor her closely. She can go home in the morning.”
I nodded, the weight of his words sinking in.
She was okay.
The baby was okay.
That was all that mattered.