Chapter 17 Phelan
SEVENTEEN
PHELAN
I took the stairs two at a time and wondered how Rawling ever made it up here.
He didn’t have shifter strength, and hauling his baby bump up to the fourth floor left him breathless.
Not that he’d been doing it much lately, as he did his classes online and I brought food up to him.
It was only archery practice that took him outside.
He had been on a break from archery but Coach didn’t agree and so he was back at it.
Coach said she needed him for the next inter-college competition, and Rawling enjoyed lording it over Atticus, who claimed the baby was a shifter and increased my mate’s skill level.
I’d told my former best friend to give it a rest because everyone was bored with him ranting about my mate’s latency.
He’d hissed and insinuated he knew Rawling’s secret, but I doubted that because I knew Atticus well.
If he’d had even a hint about my mate being human, he would have broadcast it from the turret.
“Hi.” My mate was on the sofa with a bowl of dried fruit balanced on his bump. I waved the envelope I was carrying, but he was busy avoiding the dried apricots and eating the raisins and didn’t look at me.
“I got the DNA results.”
That got his attention, and he turned his head. “And?”
“I didn’t open the letter because it’s addressed to you.” While I’d started the DNA process, it wasn’t my place to read the results before Rawling. This was his story, not mine.
He held out his hand and rubbed his belly. “The baby is energetic today.” He made a face. “They’re kicking and squirming.” He spoke to the bump. “Four more weeks and then you can come out.”
Four weeks and we’d be parents. Oh gods.
Thanks to my folks we had a crib and clothes and all the baby paraphernalia we supposedly needed, but I only had about twenty-eight days to prepare for fatherhood.
And if our little one was this active before birth, I pictured Rawling and me pacing the infirmary floor night after night.
Better catch up on your sleep now.
A huge crack of thunder split the sky outside the window, and Rawling grabbed my hand. A massive storm was approaching which was why I hadn’t shifted after class. The latest weather report predicted flooding in low-lying areas, but Sombertooth was on high ground, so we shouldn’t be affected.
“I’m glad we’re not at archery practice.” My mate peered at the rain teeming outside, and I closed the window.
Rawling ripped open the envelope and scanned the letter before tossing it aside.
“As I thought. I’m not biologically related to Rawlins, so his sister is not my birth mother. Glad we’ve cleared that up.”
I sank into the armchair and reached for his hand. “Okay. Are you disappointed at all?” I was, because if Charlie had been his mom, that would have answered some questions about why there were so many pics of him with her and Arnie and none with his birth parents.
My mate grunted and held his belly. “I suppose I am a little. While I didn’t believe it, a sense of family and belonging would have been nice.” He squeezed my hand, and ouch, it hurt. “But I have a new family. You, our little one, your parents and brothers. And Jack is like a sister.”
My mate bent forward and grunted. “Oh, little one, you need to sleep because you’re hurting Daddy.”
We’d chosen the names we wanted the baby to call us by. I’d given my mate first choice. He wanted Daddy, and I’d be Papa. It was hard to wrap my head about the idea that I’d be a papa. Rawling and I were nineteen when we met, and now we were both twenty.
We were young to become parents, but fate had shaped our destiny, or perhaps it happened because we’d been horny after being apart for so long. The whys and the hows didn’t matter because our baby was already very much loved and Rawling and I were mated.
“Phelan, help me up, please.”
“Do you want a shower?” Warm water often eased his discomfort.
He rested his head on my chest and pressed his belly against me. I put a hand on his bump, and it was different. It was so tight. I pulled back to study Rawling’s face as something splashed on my foot.
We peered between us at the wet floor, but my brain was confused and wasn’t playing catch-up with what was happening.
“My water…” Rawling choked out. “It broke, and owww, I’ve having a contraction.”
My mind was seconds, maybe minutes behind reality, and I tried to process what my mate was saying. Water. Broke. Contractions. What did it mean?
“I’m in labor,” Rawling sobbed. “The baby is coming.”
The word labor accelerated my thought process, and I wondered if we had time to practice the breathing techniques we should have been doing for months, instead of haphazardly rehearsing for the birth.
“Labor,” I panted. “Labor. The baby wants to be born.” It was four weeks early, but I had it together enough not to point that out to my mate. What did I do first? Help Rawling into the shower? Call my folks? Get Mrs. Ardilla?
But my wolf pointed out I could do two things at the same time, and I elected to get my mate into the bathroom while calling Mrs. Ardilla. I removed Rawling’s damp clothes and got him under the water while I had the phone tucked under my ear.
Mrs. Ardilla told me not to worry. Rawling was young and healthy. Like me, she didn’t point out the obvious, which was that my parents had prepared for minor hiccups by purchasing equipment and supplies which I’d deemed over the top.
“But as the baby is early, I’m going to call a professor who’s an MD from the Department of Biological Sciences on campus, Professor Barclay, and have him attend the birth.”
Oh shoot. I didn’t like that she thought the baby might experience some problems. But having a doctor here would be reassuring.
“I need to walk or maybe squat or sit or something.” Rawling was in so much pain tears rolled over his cheeks.
We paced over the floor, but he only took two steps before his body cramped. Between contractions, I called Jack, but she didn’t pick up, so I texted, Baby coming.
My parents were already in the car and on their way here before I ended their call.
“Phelan, I don’t know that I can do this.
” My mate shrieked, and I held him as another cramp gripped his belly.
He almost pitched forward, saying his head was spinning, but I held him steady.
He was very pale, but he’d hardly been outside in the past month, so maybe I was imagining his skin being more translucent than earlier this morning.
I dampened a rag and wiped the sweat that was dotting his brow.
This was a grown-up world I hadn’t experienced, and no amount of breathing exercises would have prepared me for it.
Mrs. Ardilla bustled in and told me to wait in the other room while she examined Rawling. That was a little odd, because up until now, she’d been our house mother, but my mate didn’t seem to care and he was the one giving birth.
When she reappeared, she took me aside, saying the labor was progressing quickly and the constructions were intense. “Rawling will need all your support.”
I got my mate onto the exercise ball as Mrs. Ardilla suggested, and he rocked back and forth with me beside him, making sure he didn’t topple off. His head lolled to one side and he cried that he was being split in two.
Jack arrived, and she was drenched since she’d been at soccer practice.
“There’s already minor flooding in town, and there’s no sign of the storm easing.” She dried her hair with a towel and kneeled beside my mate. “You’re amazing.”
“Get me off this damned thing.”
Jack and I helped my mate to stand, but he didn’t want to walk or lie down. He wanted the baby out, and he howled against my chest. I’d never felt so helpless. Rubbing his back and whispering words of encouragement were so ineffectual when Rawling was bringing our child into the world.
Jack glanced at my face and squeezed my hand. I mouthed, “Professor Barclay is on his way,” and she nodded. She’d never agreed with Rawling just having Mrs. Ardilla attend the birth.
Rawling screamed and insisted he had to push. That was good. Pushing would get the baby out, and he could rest and recover.
My mate clung to me, his strength ebbing from his body as his hands trembled and his legs gave way. We got him onto the birthing bed in the living area where we were surrounded by medical equipment. All the medical supplies both eased my nerves a tad and freaked me out.
Rawling was on hands and knees, but he was shaking so badly, we got him onto his back. Jack supported my mate on one side with me on the other, while Mrs. Ardilla urged Rawling to push during the contractions.
“This is killing me,” he wailed.
“I can see the head. Baby’s almost here.” Mrs Ardilla’s voice shook, and I shot her a glance. Had we made the wrong decision by having Rawling give birth here?
Rawling’s screams surrounded us and some slipped out the window and echoed in the turret above us so the shrieks were multiplied.
My mate was pleading with me to take the baby out, and my wolf was pushing for me to do something, but what?
Should we call an ambulance? I watched videos of births, but how was I to gauge when my mate needed to be in the hospital?
And I wasn’t sure anyone could reach the school with the rain and subsequent flooding.
“The head is almost out. That’s the hardest part. A few more pushes.” Mrs. Ardilla was encouraging Rawling, and I was breathing and pushing with him, but seeing him in so much agony was unbearable. Was this my fault somehow, getting him pregnant at nineteen?
“Push, Rawling,” Mrs. Ardilla yelled, and Jack and I shared a glance.
I kept telling myself the baby would be here within minutes and everything would be fine. It had to be. I had two people to worry about now.
Rawling screamed, and I vowed I’d never put him through this again. No more children if this was what he had to endure. My wolf was curled up inside me shaking because each scream was a dagger to his heart.
“The baby’s head is out.”
Rawling was panting, and Jack and I held him up so he could push. There was no color to his cheeks, but I kept repeating the mantra: The baby was almost here. Almost here.
“Shoulders. Come on, Rawling.” My mate’s eyes were rolling back in his head as he gave one more push. “You have a daughter.”
Oh, oh, oh. We’d made a baby girl before we mated and she was here.
“She’s a little early, but her color’s good and she’s crying. Phelan, I need you and Jack to dry your daughter and wrap her in a blanket.”
I was supposed to do what? No, this was a time to hold my mate and welcome our daughter to the world.
“Phelan.”
Okay, yes. Mrs. Ardilla handed our daughter to me while she attended to my mate. Rawling and I had created this tiny life, and I was overwhelmed with awe and love and absolute wonder.
I kissed the tiny squirming bundle and held her close to my mate so he could press his lips to her skin. He put a hand on her head and whispered, “I love you,” but his eyes closed and his head slumped to the side as he moaned.
I wanted to do what Mrs. Ardilla had instructed, which was something to do with wrapping our daughter in a blanket, but Rawling needed me. There was no color in his cheeks. Gods, he was pale and he was sweating profusely.
I brushed the damp hair from his brow and told him he was my hero and I was head over heels in love with our daughter. But instead of relief and joy, a metallic scent of blood permeated the air.
“What’s going on?”
“He’s losing a lot of blood.” Mrs. Ardilla pressed down hard on my mate’s belly. “And he doesn’t have a beast to help him recover.”
While Jack wrapped the baby in a blanket, the door opened and a man I didn’t know strode in.
“Professor Barclay.” His no-nonsense tone told me he was in charge and increased my confidence that all would be well. He put on gowns and a mask which had the opposite effect, and I had to tamp down my fear.
Before the door closed, I caught sight of my parents and hordes of students gathered outside the door. But after giving them a weak smile, I held Rawling’s hand and begged him to open his eyes.
“Fix him, please. You have to do something.”
“Your mate is hemorrhaging.”