3. Chapter 3 #2
“Since you guys left. The internet said to try to walk, and drink water, and take a bath–but nothing is helping.” Mason rushed through her words despite the panicked breaths she frequently took.
“Shit.” Cameron mumbled before looking back at me.
“Seb, you gotta take her to the hospital.” He didn’t sound happy about that, but while Cameron was respectful about his disappointment, Mason absolutely was not.
“What?” She gasped before looking at me.
Her pale skin was splotchy, and her hair was disheveled. I assumed this was from a mix of bathwater and sweat.
“You’re right here! I want to go with you.” She pleaded to Cameron. “I know.” His tone was ripe with anguish as he smoothed her hair. “But I don’t do hospitals. Sweetpea, you know that.”
Mason argued about going to the hospital with me for over half an hour. When it became clear that we were in a stalemate, Cameron had the audacity to send me away… and I listened because I didn’t want to see Mason get any more stressed. So, I made myself useful and packed her a small hospital bag.
I Googled what was needed for one and settled on a small list.
One: A soft nightgown and bathrobe because Mason hated how hospital gowns felt.
Two: Soft socks and slippers so her feet didn’t get cold.
Three: Toiletries because Reddit user MamaBear5548 said she was in the hospital for weeks when she went into preterm labor, and I wanted Mason to have her stuff.
Four: Chargers, pillows, an extra blanket, and other miscellaneous stuff to make the visit more comfortable .
Mason’s bag was the difficult one. Lavender’s was easy.
I packed a couple of blankets my sister sent Mason and a stuffed duck Mason grabbed for our baby, and I left a note to myself to buy preemie-sized sleepers.
This wasn’t exactly a situation we had prepared for.
After all, until now, Mason’s pregnancy had been a healthy one .
Somehow, while I did that, Cameron talked Mason down from her ledge, and I assumed he just reminded her she was being a hormonal bitch. I didn’t bring that up, though, just in case.
Once everything was said and done and we loaded everything into the car, it was just Mason and I. I turned on the heater in her seat, hoping the warmth would ease some of the pain in her back. And just like that, we started the forty-five-minute trek to Hartwood General Hospital.
When we got there, we were immediately rushed to the triage area of the maternity ward.
Some very nice-looking nurse in pink scrubs immediately wore Mason like a puppet to check and see if she was dilated.
Luckily, she wasn’t. From that point on, they started an IV to rehydrate her and gave her Benadryl.
After all, Mason couldn’t be stressed if she was sleeping.
Once that was said and done, the contractions disappeared, and the nurse said it was probably false labor. Still, they needed to keep Mason a little longer to be sure. This left a very sleepy Mason and me to sit together, my hand cemented to hers thanks to our sweaty palms.
When we got here, I offered her my hand so that she could squeeze it when she was in pain, leaving me with crescent-shaped nail marks on the back of my hand. I was pleasantly surprised that she held onto me this long.
“Why don’t you get some rest, Princess?” I cooed, lowering my face to hers.
Her breathing was slow, and the way her lashes fluttered closed, I assumed she’d take the suggestion and sleep. But, after a moment, her gaze trained on mine. She didn’t speak, but her breathing remained slow.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. I sat up and looked back just to grab the water a nurse brought her not too long ago.
Slowly, I raised the straw to her lips, and she accepted it.
Ice rattled against the plastic as she downed what felt like half the container with long gulps.
When she let go of the straw, she was out of breath.
She recoiled slightly and rubbed her stomach, causing the monitors to bump together. “Better?” I studied her as I spoke.
“Do you hate me?” There was a small crack in her voice .
My heart flipped, and my brow furrowed. Was she serious? “Princess, why do you think that?”
Her bottom lip quivered, and I wove my fingers into her hair. The short, dark strands were softer than silk.
“Because you’ve been so mad at me for so long.” Sniffles made her words almost unintelligible.
When the fuck was I mad at her? … Never mind.
I pressed a kiss to her forehead and breathed deeply.
Right now, Mason smelled like sweat, and I loved it.
“I wasn’t the one who was screaming for you to go away.
” I reminded her.“I know.” Her tone somehow grew more pathetic.
“And you’re being really nice to me even with that.
” A smile pulled at the left corner of my lips.
Her hormones were driving her absolutely crazy, and I could work with that.
“You were just scared and hurting, and I’m sorry that you felt like I couldn’t comfort you.
” I softly swiped away her tears. “Please don’t cry. I hate it when you’re sad.”
Mason nodded as her breathing stuttered. “Has Cameron texted you?”
I dug in the pockets of my jeans and produced the device.
It hadn’t stopped vibrating since I got here, so I had to turn off notifications.
Typing in my passcode was pretty much muscle memory, and once it was done, I went to my messages.
I had approximately fifteen texts from Cameron, who I assumed called Lucian and Sophia at some point, as they had each messaged me a considerable amount.
Lucian especially. I fought the urge to wrinkle my nose as I deleted the messages before putting the phone back in my pocket.
“You shouldn’t be worrying about them. Right now, all you should be focused on is you and our baby girl.
” I assured her. Her eyes went wide as they softened with sadness.
I assumed she took that as no one messaged, and it wasn’t my job to correct her.
After all, Mason had a phone. If they wanted updates, they would have contacted her.
Still, I hated seeing her sad.
“Hey, you missed dinner. Do you want me to go to the cafeteria and see if they have anything?” I offered .
She hesitated before nodding.“What do you want? No matter what it is, I’ll make it happen.” If the hospital cafeteria didn’t have it, I’d go somewhere else.
No price was too high if it meant seeing her smile.
“Promise not to judge me?” Her tears dried as she looked at me.
I nodded. “I want a doughnut and chocolate milk.”
Part of me wished she’d choose to eat a little healthier while growing our child, but I’d be an asshole if I told her that.
Plus, I had a feeling no matter what I got, she’d be asleep by the time I got back.
I could get her something healthier to eat when we left in the morning. “Any specific type?”
She paused like I had asked her a question that actually mattered in the long run.
“I want one of the filled ones.” She sounded confident in her choice. “Specifically, one with the raspberry jelly. If they don’t have that, I want one with chocolate on top and cream in the middle.”
“I’ll find both,” I assured her before standing up.
I patted my pockets to make sure I had my wallet before heading to leave the room.
“Hey, Seb?” Mason's voice stopped me dead in my tracks.
“Hmm?”
I looked back to see she had nestled further into the blanket I had brought for her.
“Thank you.” Her words were mumbled through a yawn.
“Of course, taking care of you two is my top priority.”
She closed her eyes and smiled softly before I left the room. Hartwood General wasn’t a large hospital, but it was well-staffed. When I entered the cafeteria, I knew by the room full of people in scrubs that it would still be open despite how late it was.
But, just because it was opened didn’t mean it was well stocked. The restaurant was moderately sized but overcrowded with bars for both hot and cold food. In the far corner was a clear pastry cabinet, and I figured that would be my best bet to find a doughnut .
I meandered over to the cabinet just as a short man in clerical attire did the same. He made it to the doors before I did, which meant I’d have to wait.
At first, that was fine. But, seconds quickly turned to minutes as the man weighed his options as if he would cure cancer simply by choosing the right bagel.
I wondered if he was stupid before deciding he had to be.
I cleared my throat, hoping this man would realize he had someone behind him.
Slowly, he looked back. The man had to be in his seventies, if not older. His hair was mostly silver except for the thin streaks of chestnut brown concentrated near his temples. Green eyes pinned on mine, and his grin widened.
The deep-set smile lines told me this was an expression he wore more often than not.
“My, aren’t you a fine-looking young man.” A southern drawl was the last thing I expected out of his mouth.
“Thank you?”
He nodded once and went back to the great debate of blueberry versus poppy seed. “Tell me, what brings a young man to a place like this so late?”
That question seemed a bit invasive, but I had learned that’s just how people in small towns act.
“My…” I stopped at just what to call Mason.
Sure, I couldn’t actually marry her until she had some sort of formal education, but with everything happening in Hartwood, I wanted her to be as closely linked to me as possible.
“Wife.” Still, it felt strange calling her that, but not in a bad way.
“She is almost thirty-three weeks pregnant, and we had a little bit of a scare.”
The man grabbed a wax paper sheet from near the cabinet before selecting a Danish with something red in the middle. I guessed that in the great debate of carbs, bagels would always be losers.
He stepped back, and I stepped forward.
“Oh, that’s terrible. Is she okay?” The man sounded genuinely concerned.
“She’s fine,” I assured him as I looked through the glass .
The selection was mostly gone and very dry-looking. All they had in the way of doughnuts were the plain, individually wrapped ones. My nose wrinkled a bit at the idea of Mason eating something so terrible, but I realized this was more a gesture than anything.
So, I grabbed two of the packets and headed to the coolers. The stranger followed behind me like a lost puppy.
“Are y’all of faith? I can come by to pray—”
“We don’t pray.” I stopped him.
I expected that to offend the man. His clerical collar suggested that faith was important to him. But instead of leaving me alone, the man’s smile somehow widened, causing a chill to run down my spine.
“Everyone prays. Let me ask you something, son.” His cheery voice took on a strange, unfitting edge that caused my skin to prickle.
“Has there ever been a moment in your life where you’ve been so desperate for God to save you that you would have given anything just for him to hear your plea?
”My throat felt thick as I swallowed, and a weakness spread to my arms. There was nothing wrong with what the man said, but something in how he said it left me unnerved, and it didn’t feel like I should answer him.
I managed to speak despite how dry my mouth felt. “Can I ask what your name is?”
The man folded his hands behind his back and nodded once. “When you need to know my name, you will.”