Chapter 41
Forty-One
I wasn’t sure if this was my brightest idea, but I refused to tell Rhodes I’d been experiencing contractions since early this morning. The moment I confessed, he’d scoop me up and drag me to the hospital without a second thought.
From all the baby books I’d read, I knew labor could take hours, sometimes even days, after contractions started. I’d been carefully counting the time between each one, and so far, they were five minutes apart, lasting roughly a minute…
Oh, shit.
I glanced over at Rhodes. He was fast asleep, sprawled on his stomach, his back rising and falling with each peaceful breath. He looked so calm, so undisturbed. Maybe I should let him sleep a little longer.
I was stalling.
The truth was, I was terrified. I’d been begging for her to come out for weeks, cursing my aching back, the shortness of breath, and the belly that made even rolling over in bed feel like an Olympic event. But now that the moment was here? I was frozen with fear.
My pulse thundered in my ears, muting everything else around me. My nerves screamed, paralyzing me as I thought about what was coming. The next time I stepped foot in this house, it would be with my baby. Life as I knew it was about to change forever.
I sat up, leaning against the headboard, clutching my belly as a contraction tore through me. I took a deep, shaky breath.
“Rhodes,” I whispered through clenched teeth.
Nothing.
“Rhodes,” I called again, louder this time. Still nothing. Out cold like he’d flipped a switch.
When the pain eased for a brief moment, I reached over and shook him violently, thinking that would’ve done the trick. Rhodes stirred, groaning as he rolled onto his back, his eyes barely cracking open.
“For the love of God!” I shouted as the next contraction hit, sharp and unrelenting.
That woke him up.
Rhodes shot upright, leaping out of bed like he was ready to fend off an intruder. “Theo, what the hell?” he demanded, his voice groggy as he adjusted his pajama pants.
It didn’t take long for him to notice the pain etched across my face. His expression shifted instantly, panic flashing in his wide green eyes. “Oh, shit,” he breathed.
“Mhm,” I groaned, clutching my belly as another contraction rocked me.
These were the real deal, none of those fake Braxton Hicks teasers from weeks ago. This was it .
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I let them dangle as Rhodes bolted from the room. I could hear him sprinting down the hall, his footsteps pounding against the hardwood. He’d been preparing for this moment for weeks. The baby-go bag was stationed in the kitchen, packed and ready, just waiting for its moment to shine.
Moments later, Rhodes came skidding back into the room, the bag slung over his shoulder as he tossed in the last-minute essentials.
Meanwhile, my body refused to cooperate. Part of me thought, Maybe I’ll just have the baby right here.
Rhodes must have noticed the panic in my face because he crouched down in front of me, his eyes softening as he cupped my cheek. His touch was grounding, pulling me out of the chaos in my head.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said gently, his voice steady. “You’re a champ.”
I nodded, tears pricking my eyes as the weight of the moment crashed over me.
“Please, don’t leave me,” I murmured, my voice trembling.
Rhodes’s green eyes locked onto mine, steady and unflinching. His thumb traced soothing circles on my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, ever,” he said firmly. “You have me, all of me, forever.”
I swallowed hard, nodding as he helped me to my feet.
From there, we moved like the well-rehearsed team we were, running through the steps we’d practiced a thousand times: my clothes, the final packing, and to the door in record time. We’d even used a stopwatch during practice runs to shave seconds off our time.
Just as we reached the front door, I froze.
“Wait!” I shouted, my hand on the doorknob.
Rhodes paused mid-step, his arms overloaded with my purse, the go bag, a blanket, and a pillow.
“Did we get my camera?”
He groaned, rolling his eyes with a smirk, but nodded. “Yes, Honey. That was item number one.”
Sure, it sounded ridiculous but it was a necessity.
With that, we were out the door, barreling toward the adventure of a lifetime.
Controlled breathing was the one thing I clung to. Not the nonstop beeping of monitors echoing down the hall, not the parade of nurses bustling in and out of my room to check my vitals. Just in and out, over and over. If I stayed inside my head, maybe I could make it through this.
We made it to the emergency room in record time, thanks to Rhodes. Even with me unraveling in the passenger seat, he’d remained a steady anchor, his calm presence grounding me in a way I didn’t think possible. He hadn’t flinched, hadn’t let my panic disrupt his focus. He was solid, everything I desperately wanted to be in that moment.
Now, I needed space. The constant coming and going, the poking and prodding—it was too much. Overwhelming. I’d sent everyone away: my mom, my friends, even Rhodes. Peace and quiet were all I could ask for right now.
Being alone was my comfort zone. It had always been. Solitude sharpened my thoughts, let me navigate the chaos of life on my own terms. I was a lone wolf by nature, fiercely independent. Somewhere along the way, that had started to change.
Meeting Rhodes had shifted something in me. For years, I’d kept everyone at arm’s length: my mom, my closest friends, anyone who tried to peer too deeply into the walls I’d built. However, with him, it had been different. I let him in without hesitation, drawn to something in him that felt achingly familiar, like a forgotten song I’d always known. He felt like home.
Lying here in this hospital bed, ready to bring this child into the world, the realization struck me hard: Rhodes reminded me of my father. His gentle strength, his unwavering patience—it all stirred memories I hadn’t dared to confront in years. He didn’t shy away from me, even when I was at my most vulnerable. He stayed persistent and steady, pulling me back to a time when I felt safe, when I wasn’t so afraid of loss.
I think I fell in love with him the day he sat beside me on his couch, wrapped me in his arms, and asked me about my dad. He saw the broken pieces of me, the ones I tried so hard to hide, and instead of turning away, he wanted to understand. He wanted me .
For most of my adult life, I’d run—traveled as far as I could from this town, from the pain of attachment because the closer you got, the greater the risk of losing. And I couldn’t bear that again. Losing my dad had carved out a part of me that I thought would never heal. It left me convinced that wanting anything, love or connection, only brought heartbreak. I thought I’d buried that fear, grown past it, but it had lingered, festering beneath the surface all along.
And then there was Rhodes. He taught me something I hadn’t dared believe in: that love could survive the wreckage. After everything he’d been through, his own feelings of abandonment, of being unwanted, he still found the courage to open his heart. He didn’t let the scars define him. That night in his basement, when he let me see him stripped bare, vulnerable in a way that mirrored my own fears, he gave me hope.
Hope that maybe, just maybe, love could be worth the risk.