Chapter 26
Savannah
I didn’t know what to expect. But this is worse. Far worse. It’s not just pain; it’s pressure, heat, and I feel like I’m unraveling from the inside out.
“Okay, Savannah, the baby’s heartbeat is a little low.
” Hudson’s voice is calm, but it has a hint of firmness to it I haven’t heard before.
“It could just be a little sleepy, but you’re also not dilating how I expected either, so we’re going to transfer you to Williamstown.
They’re better equipped for births that might need intervention. ”
“No. Please…” I beg, resistance filtering through my body. I hear the heart rate monitors connected to me beep a little faster. I don’t want to go to Williamstown. I never want to go back there.
“Williamstown?” Griffin barks, already pacing.
His boots echo against the linoleum in the room like a warning bell.
He hasn’t left my side. Not once. The first glow of morning is beginning to bleed through the blinds, casting long shadows across the floor.
We’ve been here all night, and nothing is happening, other than pain lacing through me constantly.
I blink hard, trying to sit upright. The room tilts slightly, my body swaying with exhaustion.
“There’s no other option. The baby’s heart rate is too low for my liking, and the Williamstown Hospital is better equipped for neonatal care.
I know you wanted to deliver here in Whispers, but it’s safest if we get you to Williamstown,” Hudson confirms as he and the nurses here all run around, gathering things, preparing me to leave already.
“Griff?” His name is barely formed before another contraction slams into me like a tidal wave. “Ahhhhhhh…” I double over, gripping my belly.
Griffin is at my side in the next second, his hand catching mine, his other arm bracing my back. His face is close, eyes wild, but voice steady. “You got this… Breathe, sweetness. Just breathe.”
“I’m breathing… I’m breathing…” I pant, eyes squeezed shut, trying to ride it out.
“I’ve got an ambulance ready.” Hudson’s voice fades behind the rush of people in the room who are unhooking my bed, and then they start to wheel me down the hallway.
“What’s happening?” I say through a gasp, my eyes finding Griffin’s. I need him to anchor me.
“The baby’s just as stubborn as its mom.” His jaw is tight. “We’re going to Williamstown so they can help encourage the little one to come out.”
“I’m scared… Don’t leave me, Griff,” I whisper as the lights on the ceiling whizz past my line of sight, one after the other, almost rhythmically.
“Never, I’ll never leave. I’m right here.” He walks quickly beside me, his hand still in mine. And I believe him.
As panicked as I am, the fact that Griffin holds my hand and never lets go while my bed is pushed down the hallway, then outside and into the ambulance, gives me the support I need and the support I’ve lacked my entire life.
“I’ll meet you there!” Hudson yells out as the doors close us in and we start to move instantly.
Griffin is at my side, still holding my hand.
He looks comically large, squished into the back of the ambulance next to me, watching me closely before looking at the paramedic with a gaze that would make any grown man tremble.
I feel another contraction, and I squeeze my eyes shut and groan, gripping his hand tight again, squashing his fingers together, but he never once complains or winces.
“You’re doing good, Savannah. So fucking good. I’m here, I’m right here… Breathe, sweetness. Keep breathing…” I flop back onto the bed as the pain subsides, the vehicle moving rapidly through the roads to Williamstown.
“Can’t you drive any faster?” he grits out to the paramedic. I have no idea how quickly we’re moving, but it feels fast.
“We’ll get you there as fast as we can.” The female paramedic doesn’t offer him anything else as she watches the heart rate monitor and ensures the drip in my arm is still connected.
“I bet a few months ago you never ever thought you’d be in this situation.” I look up at him through teary eyes, trying to lighten the mood. His gaze is laced with a mixture of fear, protectiveness, stress.
“The app didn’t really prepare me for this bit.”
I smile, my head lolling around a little with the movement of the vehicle, my body spent. I’m almost at total exhaustion and the baby isn’t even here yet.
“I meant what I said. I want you to live with me. I want to take care of you… and the baby…”
My heart skips a beat, feeling the most secure in my life with this man by my side.
“You’re taking pretty good care of me now.” I give him another small smile, knowing he feels a little out of his depth. We both do.
Griffin leans closer, brushing a damp strand of hair from my cheek with a touch so gentle it almost undoes me. “Savannah… look at me, baby.”
I force my eyes to meet his.
“You’re not doing this alone. Not now. Not ever.”
Another contraction curls through me, sharp and hot, and I gasp, fingers clawing at his as I tense. He squeezes back instantly.
“I’ve got you. I’m right here. You hear me? They can move us, they can poke you, prod you, wheel you through every damn hospital hallway in this state”—his voice cracks, just barely—“but I’m not letting go.”
A tear slips down my cheek, my emotions, the pain, my whole body feeling out of control. “Promise?”
He leans his forehead on mine, breath shaking. “Sweetness… you’re the only thing I’ve ever been sure of. I’m not going anywhere.”
The ambulance hits a bump, and the monitor beeps again; it’s too slow, too soft, and I’m scared, but I feel Griffin’s hand wrapped around mine, steady and unbreakable.
“Just hold on,” he whispers, thumb stroking my knuckles. “Hold on to me. We’re getting your baby out safe. Together.”
“And I see the head… Get ready to push!” The doctor’s voice cuts through the haze. It’s a new doctor. Someone apparently specialized in obstetrics who took over my care as soon as I arrived. It should feel unsettling to have yet another man all up in my business, but it’s all a blur.
I turn to Griffin, searching his face. “I can’t do it… I can’t…” I’m sweating, my hair is wet and stuck to the back of my neck. My body hurts from my head to my toes. I feel exhaustion like I’ve never felt before, deep down to my bones.
“You can… One more, sweetness. Just one more push, and it’s done…” His forehead presses to mine, his hands gripping mine like a lifeline. “You’ve got this, I know you do. You’re amazing, a fucking warrior. One more, sweet thing, just one more push…”
“Okay…” I whisper, though nothing feels okay. My body is a battlefield—limbs numb, belly taut, my core a burning ring of fire.
“Push!” the doctor orders, giving me an encouraging look.
I scream, the sound primal, raw. I squeeze Griffin’s hands so tight, I expect to feel his fingers crack, but he doesn’t flinch.
He holds on, steady, as he has been all this time.
My calm river through the storm, grounding me.
Giving me his strength. I push with everything I’ve got, which admittedly isn’t much.
And it’s then I hear it. A cry. A beautiful, furious cry.
I freeze. The world stills.
“You did it! You did it!” Griffin kisses my head over and over, and tears spill down my cheeks as I choke out my emotions. Pulling me close, he cups my face, kissing my cheeks next like he’s trying to memorize me.
“I did it… I did it…” I barely exhale the words, in disbelief. I did it. I delivered my baby.
“Good work, sweetness… I’m so proud of you,” Griffin murmurs, looking a little in shock himself.
“We did it,” I whisper, because we did. We’ve been in this together for hours. For months. For a lifetime, it feels like.
“And it’s a boy!” the doctor announces.
“A boy?” I echo, stunned. I look at Griffin, wide-eyed, and then around the room, trying to see. The doctor lifts him, tiny, wrinkled, perfect, and places him on my bare chest.
“Oh my…” My hands tremble as I cradle him. I don’t feel like I have enough strength to hold him, but Griffin’s large hand is there, helping me, guiding my son to me. My baby’s skin is warm, damp, impossibly soft and pink. He has a sprinkle of dark hair crowning his head.
“A boy,” Griffin says again. His voice is reverent and full of wonder. He hasn’t let go of me. One hand brushes my hair back from my face, the other resting lightly on my son’s back. The three of us are tangled together in this moment, a fragile, sacred bubble.
“Let us take him quickly and wrap him so he remains warm. Does Dad want to cut the cord?” a nurse asks innocently.
“Oh, I’m…” Griffin starts, looking a little lost now in this busy hospital room. The shock of what he witnessed is obvious.
“Do it,” I tell him quickly, wanting him to be part of all of this.
“You want me to?” His eyebrows pinch, like he’s not sure he’s allowed.
“Yeah. I want you to.” If my son can be half the man Griffin is, then I know he’ll be amazing.
He swallows hard. I see it. The emotion he’s trying to keep down.
He hasn’t slept. Not a second. He’s been with me every step.
Feeding me ice chips. Holding my hair back.
Lifting me when I couldn’t stand. Walking me through contractions.
Dancing with me in the hallway when I needed to move.
He’s been on the phone, barking orders, ensuring I’m looked after. He’s been my anchor, my strength.
He deserves this moment.
Griffin cups my face, kisses me once, but it’s enough to have my stomach flipping, and then follows the doctor to the side.
I hear the baby’s soft cries as the nurses tend to me, adjusting the bed, checking vitals, cleaning me up, but I’m oblivious to it all as I watch Griffin, the biggest man in the room, standing protectively over the smallest. His shoulders are squared, but I see him swipe at his eyes before he turns back to me.
“Here, Mom,” the nurse says gently. “Place him on your chest. He may start to suckle.”
I do as she says, and sure enough, the baby latches on, instinctive and determined.
“He won’t drink much, but it’s great to get him started. Skin-to-skin with Dad is important too.”
She smiles and leaves us be. We don’t correct them. We don’t feel the need.
“Everything went well. You’ll be in recovery for an hour or so, then we’ll move you to the ward. I hear there’s quite the audience waiting.”
I glance at Griffin, eyebrows raised. “My family?” My heart starts to race, not wanting to see them. Not wanting them near my son at all. If I felt protective before, the feeling welling inside my chest right now is enough to burn down the hospital. Being a mama bear is a real thing.
“No,” he says gently, already knowing what I’m thinking. His hand brushes mine soothingly.
“Who then?” I ask.
“Tanner. Victoria. The others. Hudson called them for me. They’ve been here for a while.”
“Really?” I blink, swallowing the lump in my throat. I didn’t think anyone would come. I thought I’d be alone. Months ago, I assumed I would be a lonely single mom with no support, going through all of this solo. But I’m not.
“I also arranged security,” Griffin adds. “No one gets to you without your say-so.”
“Security?” I frown, confused.
“I want you to be calm. Rest. Recover. Anxiety about being in the same town as your family I know isn’t going to help you.
So I got a few guards in the hallway, watching things.
It’s a public hospital, so they can’t stop people from coming or going, but they sure as hell can stop someone from coming into your room. So you can rest easy.”
Relief floods me. The anxiety of being back in Williamstown has been a weight on my chest for hours, although I had pushed it to the back of my mind until now.
“Thank you for doing that,” I breathe out and smile up at him. He nods, his fingers lightly caressing my hair back.
“So… a little man, huh?” Griffin grins.
“Look at his hair.” I run my finger over the soft fuzz. “And his little nose…” I bop it gently.
“Look at his little hands…” Griffin’s voice is thick. The baby’s fingers curl around one of his, the contrast almost laughable.
“You did good, sweetness. Real good.” He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand.
“Thank you, Griffin. For everything.” My voice wobbles. I’m trying not to cry again, but I’ve never been more grateful for anyone in my life.
He clears his throat, his eyes looking deeply into mine. “That was the most amazing thing I think I’ll ever experience. So, thank you.”
And I believe him. Because it was.