Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
ASTER
Bella went into labor two days later. I was dozing on my hay bale when she started pacing, my head jerking up at the sound of her hooves restless against the straw.
Her breathing was shallow and fast, her sides heaving, and she kept circling the stall with wide, rolling eyes that showed too much white.
I was on my feet in an instant, my heart pounding, watching her with growing dread.
"Easy, girl." My voice came out rough from sleep, but I tried to make it soothing, the way Nolan did. I kept my distance, not wanting to crowd her, my hands spread in front of me like I could calm her through sheer force of will. "Easy. You're okay."
She wasn't okay. Something was wrong—I could see it in the way she kept lying down and getting back up, in the sweat darkening her chestnut coat, in the sounds she was making. Sounds that didn't seem right. Sounds that made my stomach clench with fear.
I ran.
The morning air was cold against my face as I sprinted across the yard toward the main house, my boots pounding against the hard-packed dirt.
I didn't know where Reid was, didn't know if Nolan was on the ranch today, didn't know anything except that Bella needed help and I was useless, and if she died because I didn't know what to do—
I nearly collided with someone coming around the corner of the barn.
Hands caught my shoulders, steadying me, and I looked up into a face I didn't recognize. Alpha—the scent hit me immediately, different from Reid's and Nolan's, earthier somehow. Sun-baked grass and dust and wind, with something wild underneath. Like open fields and endless sky.
"Whoa." The voice was low, rough, like gravel over velvet. The single word was calm, unhurried, even as his pale eyes swept over my panicked face, taking in the fear written there. His grip on my shoulders was firm but not painful, steadying rather than restraining. "Where's the fire?"
I jerked back, out of his grip, my heart hammering for a different reason now. He let me go immediately, his hands dropping to his sides, palms open and visible. No threat. No pressure. Just waiting.
He was solid—that was the first thing I noticed.
Not as tall as Reid, but broader, built like someone who spent his days wrestling cattle and winning.
Maybe six feet, with shoulders that strained the seams of his worn work shirt.
Auburn hair, the color of rust and copper, cropped close on the sides but longer on top, catching the early morning light and gleaming with reddish highlights.
His skin was ruddy, weathered by sun and wind, and stubble covered his strong jaw in shades of copper and brown.
It was his eyes that made me freeze—pale blue, almost gray, watching me with an intensity that felt like being pinned in place. They were the color of a winter sky, sharp and clear and seeing everything.
"The mare." I forced the words out, my voice ragged from the sprint, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. "Bella. She's—something's wrong. I need to find—"
"I'll get Nolan." He said it calmly, cutting me off, no panic in his voice.
His tone was matter-of-fact, efficient—a man who knew how to handle emergencies without losing his head.
He was already pulling a phone from his pocket, his rough, callused fingers moving over the screen with practiced ease.
His pale eyes never left my face, even as he typed.
"He's on his way over anyway. Go back to her. Keep her calm."
I didn't wait to hear more. I turned and ran back to the stable, my lungs burning, my legs shaking with exhaustion and fear.
Bella was worse when I got back. She was down in the straw now, her sides heaving with labored breaths, and the sounds she was making—I'd never heard anything like them. Pain sounds. Fear sounds. The kind of sounds that made something primal in my chest clench with answering terror.
I dropped to my knees beside her, my hand finding her neck the way I'd watched Nolan do it. Her coat was slick with sweat, her muscles trembling beneath my palm.
"It's okay." My voice cracked on the words, but I kept talking, kept stroking her sweat-damp coat with trembling fingers. "Help is coming. You're going to be okay. Just hang on. Please, just hang on."
I don't know how long I knelt there. Minutes, maybe. It felt like hours. The stable was too quiet except for Bella's labored breathing and my own ragged whispers, and I kept thinking this is my fault, I should have noticed sooner, I should have done something—
Then footsteps thundered down the stable aisle, and Nolan was there, his medical bag already open, his green eyes sharp and focused.
He was wearing a flannel shirt thrown hastily over a t-shirt, like he'd dressed in a hurry, and his sandy hair was disheveled, but his hands were steady as he dropped to his knees on Bella's other side.
"How long?" His voice was calm, professional, even as his hands moved over her belly with urgent efficiency, checking, assessing. His green eyes flicked to mine briefly before returning to the mare.
"I don't know. Maybe twenty minutes? She was pacing, and then she went down, and—" My voice broke, cracking on the words, and I had to stop, had to breathe through the tightness in my throat.
"You did good." Nolan's voice was warm despite the tension in his jaw, and he glanced up at me again, his green eyes soft with reassurance even as his hands kept working. "Getting help fast. Staying with her." He held my gaze for a moment, steady and calm. "She knows you're here. That matters."
More footsteps in the aisle, heavier this time.
I looked up to see the auburn-haired Alpha from the yard, standing in the stall doorway with Reid right behind him.
Reid's black hair was disheveled, silver catching the light at his temples, and his dark eyes swept over the scene—Bella on the ground, Nolan working, me kneeling in the straw with tears I hadn't realized I was crying streaking down my face.
"Sawyer, get the foaling kit from the tack room.
" Reid's voice was calm, commanding, the voice of a man used to crisis.
No panic, no wasted words—just clear, efficient direction.
He stepped into the stall, moving to Bella's head with long strides, his broad hand coming to rest on her neck beside mine.
His fingers brushed against my knuckles, warm and steadying.
"Aster, you're doing fine. Just keep talking to her. "
Sawyer. The auburn-haired Alpha had a name. He was gone before I could process it, his footsteps retreating down the aisle at a jog, quick and efficient.
I kept talking. Kept stroking Bella's neck, kept murmuring nonsense words in a voice that shook and cracked.
Reid was there beside me, solid and steady as a mountain, his scent mixing with Nolan's and wrapping around me like a blanket.
Whiskey and eucalyptus. Woodsmoke and honey. Safety and healing.
"Foal's turned wrong." Nolan's voice was tight, focused, his brow furrowed with concentration. His green eyes were intent on something I couldn't see, his hands working beneath Bella's tail. "I need to reposition. Sawyer—"
"Here." The word was short, clipped, and then Sawyer was back, dropping a large canvas bag beside Nolan and moving to Bella's hindquarters without being told.
His movements were efficient, practiced—he'd done this before, probably dozens of times.
His pale blue eyes were intent on the task, his strong hands steadying the mare's legs as Nolan worked.
What followed was a blur of tension and sweat and Nolan's calm voice giving instructions.
Sawyer held Bella steady while Nolan worked, his hands disappearing to do something I couldn't see and didn't want to imagine.
Reid stayed at the mare's head with me, his deep voice a low rumble of comfort that seemed to ease something in Bella's panicked eyes.
I lost track of time. Lost track of everything except the feel of Bella's neck beneath my hand, the sound of Nolan's steady instructions, the warmth of Reid beside me and the knowledge that Sawyer was there too, all of them working together to save this horse and her foal.
Then, suddenly, it was over.
A wet, dark shape slid into the straw, and Nolan let out a breath that sounded like pure relief.
"There we go." His voice was soft, wonder creeping into it despite his obvious exhaustion. His green eyes were bright, almost glowing in the dim stable light, and a smile broke across his face—the first real smile I'd seen from him all morning. "There she is."
She. A filly. I watched, barely breathing, as Nolan cleared the membrane from the foal's face with gentle, practiced hands. Tiny nostrils flared and took a first gasping breath. Impossibly long legs twitched in the straw, uncoordinated and new to the world.
"She's beautiful." The words came out of me without permission, raw and awed, my voice barely above a whisper.
"She is." Reid's voice was warm beside me, and when I looked up, he was smiling—a real smile, soft and unguarded, that transformed his weathered face into something almost gentle.
The hard lines around his eyes had softened, and there was light in his dark gaze that I'd never seen before.
His eyes met mine, and something passed between us.
Shared relief. Shared joy. Shared wonder at this tiny new life.
Bella lifted her head, nickering softly at the foal, and began to clean her with long, careful strokes of her tongue.
Mother and daughter, meeting for the first time.
Something in my chest cracked open at the sight of it—something old and wounded that I'd kept locked away for so long I'd forgotten it was there.