Chapter 17 Axel
AXEL
I was running through defensive drills when coach blew his whistle and skated toward me. His expression told me this was nothing to do with my technique, and I peeled off from the drill.
“Chartris, your phone’s been ringing. They got hold of someone at the front desk who says it’s urgent.”
Stan! It had to be. My belly dropped. He was a week away from his due date, and though the healer was on pack land, along with willing aunties, uncles, and neighbors, we’d decided he should stay in town so I’d be close by.
I couldn’t bear to make that hour-long drive in maybe forty minutes and arrive too late.
But we’d been told to expect him to go over his due date, as this was a first baby. I guessed our baby wasn’t listening to what usually happened and was forging their own path.
I was already moving toward the bench and yanked off my gloves.
Coach waved me off the ice, telling me to go.
I didn’t bother with the locker room. Instead I ripped off my skates and shoved my feet into sneakers and grabbed the phone. There were five missed calls and three texts.
Shit. I was still wearing my helmet and stifled a hysterical laugh, thinking of me at Stan’s side while wearing this damned helmet. I tossed it off and listened to the messages.
“Contractions started.” Stan’s voice in the first message was calm as I raced out of the building with the phone tucked under my chin. But he was my Stan, whom I’d known for years, and I picked up a tinge of anxiety beneath his words.
“I think this is real.”
“Axel, please.” His panic level had increased by the third message, and I fumbled the keys. Gods, no!
He answered on the first ring as I scooped up the keys and leaped into the car. “Axel?” He was breathing hard.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.
” It was late morning, so there was no peak-hour traffic to maneuver around.
I’d joked to Stan I was going to buy a siren to put on top of the car for when he went into labor.
Wished I had, though I had no idea if I could buy one, and if so, were they legal?
“The contractions are about five minutes apart.”
He panted, and I gripped the steering wheel as I caught a red light. Damn it, the city needed a lane for expectant fathers. I slammed a fist on the horn as some dirtbag tried to squeeze into my lane.
“I thought I had more time.”
“You’re going to be fine. Remember everything you learned from the healer.”
He sobbed. “I can’t. It’s all gone. My head’s a mess.”
“I’ll be there soon.” My words were inadequate while my mate was laboring.
Another contraction must have grabbed him because he moaned, and maybe he had put the phone down because his voice was muffled. I counted in for four and out for six as the healer had drilled into us.
“I love you, Stan of mine.”
I ran a yellow light which was red by the time I crossed the intersection. The rational part of my brain told me I was no use to Stan if I had an accident or the police stopped me.
“You’re doing so well, babe.”
“But it hurts. No one prepared me for how much it hurts.”
I took a turn too fast and the tires protested. If Stan had been with me, he’d have read me the riot act. But my mate was alone, and every minute I wasn’t with him felt like a failure.
With the home in sight, I parked, sort of. I was partly on the grass. But I didn’t give a damn. My mate needed me. Taking the stairs because the elevator was too slow, I burst into the unlocked apartment.
Stan was on the couch leaning forward, and when he looked up, relief was etched on his face.
“You’re here.”
I yanked off my shoulder pads and hockey pants and dropped to my knees. “How are you doing?”
“I’m scared and every part of me hurts.” He gripped my hand so hard I winced as another contraction wrapped itself round him. “What if something goes wrong?”
“Everything will be fine.” I hoped I sounded reassuring because I was scared too. “Your body knows what to do.”
When the contraction ended, he said he wanted a warm shower.
I took his arm, and he shuffled beside me toward the bedroom where we’d prepared everything.
There was a mattress protector on the bed, a birthing ball and towels within reach, along with herbal tea the healer had recommended that would help labor progress.
Stan paused and gripped the doorframe while breathing through another contraction. After it passed, the shower was forgotten, I helped him kneel, and he draped himself over the birthing ball because the position removed pressure from his back.
“That’s a little better.”
I got beside him and rubbed circles on his back. I pressed hard as the healer had shown me.
“It’s funny, when labor started and progressed so quickly I was like, ‘No, this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be,’ and now I can’t imagine spending a day or more in agony.”
As the contractions continued, Stan changed positions from the ball onto all fours on the bed and then draped his arms around my neck while swaying his hips. Between contractions he rested on me and talked about if the baby was a boy or girl and whether they’d be a fox or wolf shifter.
“We’re going to meet our baby today.”
Stan’s hair was soaked with sweat, and I wiped his flushed face with a cloth.
“Best day of our lives.” I was trying to sound upbeat.
Another contraction took hold of my mate. This one was longer, and when it was over, he mumbled that it was different.
“It was stronger than the others, and I want to push.”
We shared a glance, both of us aware of what the healer had told us. Pushing the baby out would be hard and exhausting, and I had to support Stan so he could deliver our little one.
“Our baby’s getting closer.”
Stan got on all fours with me behind him but said it didn’t feel right, so I helped him onto his back, supported by pillows. When the contraction took hold, he bore down.
In the movies, it always appeared like after a few pushes the baby would appear. But we fell into a rhythm of contraction, push, and rest. I was in awe of Stan’s strength, determination, and grit.
My wolf had been pacing since we got the call, and if he’d been able to bite his claws he would have. He kept asking where the baby was. I told him to be proud of our mate who was bringing our child into the world.
“It’s so painful.” My mate’s red face was scrunched in agony.
“It’s the baby’s head, love. Not long now, and our little one will be here.”
His expression changed. He reached between his legs and placed a hand on the baby’s head.
“I can do this.”
Two more pushes and the baby’s head emerged. More pushes and our little one was born. I held the tiny, slippery, screaming bundle before placing our baby boy on Stan’s chest, and he cradled our newborn.
“We have a son.”
My wolf was howling with joy as Stan examined our little boy. I kissed my mate and the baby and sniffed our newborn so I could place his scent beside my mate’s in my memory bank.
I grabbed the towels and cleaned up our newborn and Stan.
“Look at him, Ax. We made him.”
I made a sandwich for Stan, and he took his usual tiny bites while clutching the baby. Would our son eat a sandwich like that? I hoped so. It’d be so cute.
Stan giggled. “Nice to see you dressed for the occasion.”
I was still wearing my practice jersey with my number on it which might have been the first thing our son saw.
I climbed into bed beside Stan as our son suckled. Our little boy made adorable baby sounds as he sucked.
We were a family and Stan and I were dads. Everything that mattered was right here beside me.