Chapter 20
20
Cassidy
Oh crap, crap, crap.
I thought Steal tying me up and kidnapping me was bad, but delivering a baby for the first time without all the medical professionals behind me is terrifying.
“Okay, Nat, deep breathe for me, darling, and on your next contraction, I need you to push,” I state, trying to hide the tremor in my voice, and she nods, looking as terrified as I feel as Piston holds her left leg up.
Steal, Acid, and Canine all stand by the wall, looking on in shock, while Medic, a trained medic that I really could have used, is passed out on the floor after seeing the baby’s head.
“I-I can’t…” Nat sobs, and I squeeze her leg, making her look at me.
“Yes, you can,” I state firmly, “you’ve got this, Nat, I swear, you have this. Now, next contraction, push, and let’s bring this baby into the world.”
She sobs but nods frantically, and my heart races.
Oh God, I really hope I don’t mess up right now….
Nat’s body locks up, another contraction hitting her, before she bares down and pushes.
“That’s it,” I encourage while Piston whispers in her ear, giving her the strength she needs. “Okay, the head’s out,” I say loudly a few minutes later as I gently help guide the baby out while Natalie keeps pushing.
It feels like hours, but after only minutes, a baby’s cry echoes in the room. I grin wide as I quickly cut the cord, then wrap their daughter up in the towel, and hand her to an exhausted Nat.
“Fuck, that was amazing,” I hear Steal rasp in awe as I wipe my forehead with my arm, the adrenaline rushing through me.
Natalie winces in pain again and I quickly grab another towel, putting it near her butt. “Alright, Nat, just one more push for the placenta.” She winces again but does as I ask while the men gasp behind me. I ignore them as it comes out with ease and, without speaking to anyone, I pick the up towel and thoroughly inspect it to ensure it’s intact.
“Uh, Cassy, what you doing?” I hear Acid question, and I reply, “Ensuring the placenta is intact, because if it isn’t, then Nat will need to go to hospital.”
I notice Piston’s head shoot up from his little family, his eyes on me for the five minutes I spend checking the placenta.
“It’s intact,” I confirm. “Nat, you have tearing so I need to stitch you.” She hums back, too engrossed in her daughter, not that I can blame her, I was the same.
Smiling at the awed look on her face as she gently guides her finger over her daughter’s lips, I grab the suture kit Medic brought, and stitch her up, something I was trained to do. Once I ensure Nat is alright, I spend ten minutes checking examining her daughter while Nat leans on her husband. I weigh and measure her little girl, and check all her limbs, before performing an APGAR exam. I record my findings on a piece of paper, before I grab my phone and call her OB to schedule a home visit.
Twenty minutes later, I smile as I watch Natalie look at the perfect little girl in her arms, her emotions clear as day on her face.
I can't believe I just delivered my first baby....
“Holly Addie Mathews…” Nat whispers, “after her great aunt and an amazing man who tried to save her momma.” I smile as my tears fall.
When I heard Holly passed, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. She was the only person, other than Steal's mother, who was nice and welcoming to me.
I knew she had Parkinson’s disease, but damn, was she strong.
I wipe my tears as Natalie looks at a passed-out Medic and asks, “Is he okay? I mean, I thought he was medically trained.”
Acid snorts as he looks at his niece and says, “He is, but he’s never helped someone give birth. That, my darling sister-in-law, is a whole different ballgame.”
I snort. “Men are such wimps.” I look at Medic and say, “I checked him over; he should wake soon.” I look back at Nat. “Your OB will be here within the next hour to check on you and little Holly. I’ve got to get going, okay?”
She nods and whispers, “Thank you.”
I smile and walk over to her. Gently, I kiss her forehead and then stroke her little girl’s head, before mumbling, "Anything for you,” meaning every word.
Friends like Natalie are hard to come by and something you hold close when you have it.
With a smile at Piston, I turn, ready to leave, hoping Steal’s forgotten how I got here after all that, but no such luck. Instead, he stands in my way while everyone in the room tries to hide their laughter like I can’t see them out of the corner of my eye.
Jackasses.
Steal smirks. “See, this has worked out well in my favor because now, you can’t scream.”
I narrow my eyes at him and step back a little before lifting my fist, ready to take him on instead, but suddenly, he moves quickly and throws me over his shoulder.
I gasp in shock as he storms out of the room. I bite my lip so I don’t frighten little Holly, but once we hit the common room and I know that sweet baby is out of shouting range, I shout, “Put me down, you big stupid ass!” as I hit his back with my fists. All the brothers start laughing, not one stepping in to help.
Again, jackasses.
Steal slaps my ass hard, and I growl before I hit him harder. He enters a room I haven’t been in for four years.
He slams the door before putting me down, and I scowl at him as I quickly move my hair out of my face and shout, “Are you kidding me, Colt!” His legal name slips out, something I didn’t mean to happen, which makes him happy, as evidenced by the smirk he throws at me. I growl again, slamming my foot down like Moira does when she throws a tantrum, and I look around the room.
My anger loosens a little at seeing the new furniture, and I frown and ask without thinking, “Is that a new bed?”
When he doesn’t answer me, I turn back toward him and freeze, seeing a gun in his hand.
You have got to be kidding me!
He tilts his head. “I flipped the old bed when I found your letter, a letter I read every. Single. Day.”
He punctuates the last three words, and a feeling overcomes me, a feeling from the pit of my stomach—love, but also guilt, that he continues to read my words of heartbreak.
Steal walks over to me, but I don’t move. If he shoots me, he shoots me, but he won’t get Moira; Tanner will.
Steal’s not on the birth certificate, and I wrote a will.
Instead of holding the gun to my head like he did four years ago, he turns the gun handle toward me, grabs my trembling hand, then places the heavy metal in it. After ensuring I have a grip on it, he steps back, and my eyes widen as he holds his arms out.
“I held a gun to your head while you were pregnant with our daughter, and now I’m giving you the opportunity to do the same,” he says.
He has got to be kidding, right?
When he doesn’t shout psych, I scoff. “Kind of stupid of you, don’t you think?” I wave the gun about. “I gave birth alone, Colt. I was struggling for nearly seven months, thinking I was going to lose her.” Anger and pain hit me, the past coming forward, and I scream, “You were never there for me, even before I left!”
He nods. “You’re right; I wasn’t there for you. I took you and your love for granted. I thought you’d always be there, even when I never put you first, and I can’t apologize enough. But I know words mean jack shit, Trouble.” He tips his head to my trembling hand, holding the gun at my side. “Hold the gun to my head like I did to you, Cass.”
I grit my teeth, hating that he’s giving me this option, because I know how much trust he’s giving me right now. Anger courses through me, knowing I’m not ready to work on forgiveness, that I don’t want to try and learn to move on with him, and I lift the gun. Steal doesn’t flinch, but his eyes widen when I pull the trigger without remorse.
He grunts, stumbling back a little and, seconds later, his door slams open.
“What the fuck?” Anchor curses as he rushes in, his eyes wide at the scene.
Steal doesn’t look at him or answer him, instead, he holds his arms out, ignoring the blood dripping from his right arm, and asks, “Better?”
I roll my eyes at him, not shocked by his reaction, and walk over to him. I slam the gun against a shocked Anchor, who quickly grabs it, and I grab Steal’s arm, inspecting it. I grab the rag out of his jeans pocket and put pressure on the wound.
“Please tell me that it’s fucking through and through,” Anchor demands.
I snort and confirm, “It is….”
He hums, then states, “Good, now can you both tell me what the fuck is going on?”
Steal answers, “I held a gun to her head, so I allowed her to hold one to mine. I knew she would shoot me because of how I treated her.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Anchor curses, then looks between us and states, “I’m taking this fucking gun with me,” before he leaves Steal's room, shouting, “It’s fine; she shot him as revenge for him holding a gun to her head,” and laughter echoes down the hallway.
Huh, not what I thought would happen.
Steal slams his door shut with his boot before he cups my cheek and forces me to look at him, but I don’t want to. That doesn’t stop him from forcing me to, though.
My eyes tear up as we lock eyes, and he whispers, “I fucking love you, Trouble, I never stopped, and soon, you are going to listen to me; you are going to understand where I was coming from all those years ago, and why I acted the way I did. But hear this now, understand my fucking words,” his eyes race between mine, “I have not touched another woman since you and I met eight years ago.” I suck in a breath at the sincerity shining back at me. “I haven’t fucked anyone other than you. I never touched Faith again, I never touched a clubwhore or even had a one-night stand. You have been my only for eight years, so please think on that while I go collect our daughter from your fucking lover’s apartment.”
He kisses my head, lingering for a moment before he rasps, “Killian will take you to our home, a home you should have moved into the day we met.”
That said, he turns and leaves, locking the door behind him, and all I can do is stand there with his blood on my hands and his words swimming in my head, words I could tell were the truth.
He’s not been with anyone since the day we met….
Crap, here comes the flicker of hope in my chest, hope I’ve always squashed.
Damn him!