Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
The New Year hadn’t made Rush any less restless about Boston.
If anything, the anvil hanging over his head felt heavier. Three weeks left, and he wanted to spend every spare moment with Lily, not patrolling the goddamn back roads of Northfield.
Since Christmas Day at Annette’s, when Boston had come up and Lily’s face had gone white, he’d sensed her pulling away, and it killed him that he was the reason.
Needless to say, he was in a foul mood when Myrna’s voice crackled over the radio.
“Unit One, we’ve got a speeder on Route 14. Reckless driving. Caller says they’re swerving all over the road.”
“Copy that,” he muttered, turning the wheel hard and putting on his lights. Snow and salt crunched under the tires as he gunned it toward the village. Perfect. Just what he needed. Something to sink his teeth into.
The car ahead blew past a stop sign, tires fishtailing, and Rush swore viciously. Whoever was driving that car was going to get their ass handed to them.
Then his stomach dropped.
The car was Lily’s.
For a split second, the lights and snow blurred, and he wasn’t on Route 14 anymore.
He was back at the canal, and the water was black and icy, rising around Caroline Whitmore’s car, and her terrified eyes were locked with his.
He could feel her slick hand slipping from his grip.
Hear Chloe’s screams. And then, as he swam away, the silence, failure in the marrow of his bones.
What if it were Lily this time? What if he lost her too?
“Son of a bitch!” he yelled, slamming his hand down on the horn.
She didn’t even tap the brakes.
He rode her bumper until she finally jerked the car onto the shoulder in a spray of gravel. Rush yanked his truck behind her and was out in seconds, fury boiling over.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he barked, striding up to the driver’s-side window. “You could’ve killed somebody driving like a—”
The door flung open, and Lily all but exploded out. Her eyes were wild, and she didn’t have a jacket on. “Rush! Amber’s having the babies right now!” she screamed.
For a second, the words didn’t compute. Then he heard it—Amber’s guttural cry from inside the car—and Rush’s blood iced over.
He yanked open the passenger door and dropped to his knees.
Amber was braced against the seat, her feet on the dash, sweat dripping down her temple despite the cold air.
Lily had scrambled back into the driver’s seat, gripping her sister’s hand with both of hers.
Her wide green eyes met his, and whatever she saw there made her pale.
“All right, Amber, you’re okay,” he said automatically, his voice steady even as his pulse skyrocketed. “We’ve got this—”
Then he saw it. The passenger seat of Lily’s car was soaked in blood. Too much blood.
Not again. Not fucking again.
His breath locked in his chest. His hands went numb. The world narrowed until he was back at the canal, in the icy water, Caroline’s hand slipping out of his—failure twisting his gut.
“Rush!”
Lily’s voice cut through the fog. She grabbed his arm hard. “Stay with me. She needs you. I need you.”
Her voice hit like a rope thrown to a drowning man. Rush dragged in a breath, shoved the canal back where it belonged. This wasn’t then. This was now. Amber was here. Lily was here. And he wasn’t going to lose either one of them.
His training surged, clear and automatic. He forced calm into his face. “I’m calling for some help, okay, Amber? Sit tight. You’re doing great.”
He sprinted back to his truck to get the first aid kit, already talking to Myrna. “Dispatch, this is Unit One. I need an ambulance on Route 14, mile marker twenty-two—woman in active labor with twins and heavy bleeding. Get them here fast.”
By the time he returned, Lily had Theo on speakerphone. Amber half sobbed, half screamed, her whole body trembling.
“Sweetheart,” Theo’s steady voice came through the speaker. “I’m almost there,” he said soothingly. “My love, can you breathe for me? Just like that, yes.”
Amber tried a few hee hee, who whos before screaming again, a raw sound that rattled the windows of the car. “I can’t! I can’t wait! Ahhhhhhhh!”
“Rush,” Theo barked. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Route 14, mile marker twenty-two,” Rush said, snapping on gloves. “Get here fast.”
“Oh my God,” Amber sobbed. “I don’t want to have my babies in a Subaru! I want my epidural!”
“Lily, get blankets from my trunk. And water, if you have any.”
Lily sprinted around the car while Rush crouched beside Amber.
“Have you ever done this before?” Amber asked shakily.
“Yes,” Rush lied. Technically, it was a horse, and he was only assisting Gage when he spent a weekend at his lodge on Autumn Ridge. But the principles were the same. Mostly.
Amber wailed. “Oh, thank God.”
Rush looked her dead in the eye. “You’re doing great.”
Lily thrust the blankets at him. Her fingers brushed his, and just that touch was enough to steady him.
“All right, Amber,” he said, crouching closer and lifting her bathrobe. “One push. That’s it. You’ve got this.”
Amber screamed, and that was when he saw it—dark hair crowning, slick with fluid. His heart hammered so hard he heard it in his ears, but his hands were steady as his training took over.
He braced his palm under Amber’s thigh, ready to support the baby’s head as it emerged. “That’s it,” he coached. He forced his voice to stay calm, even as adrenaline coursed through him. “Breathe. When the next contraction comes, you push again. Don’t fight it.”
Amber sobbed, panting and shaking. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His voice sharpened with authority. “You already are. You’re doing this perfectly.”
It seemed to steady Amber, and she nodded just as another contraction slammed through her.
She bore down with a primal cry, and then—suddenly—there he was, shoulders rotating with a slippery twist, and then the rest of the baby slid into his waiting hands—warm, wet, and impossibly real.
A baby. A tiny, eerily quiet, but very much alive baby pushed into the cold January air and into Rush’s arms.
For a second, Rush’s heart stopped.
“Blanket,” he said hoarsely. Lily pressed one into his hands, and Rush wrapped the newborn gently then placed him in Amber’s shaking hands. “It’s a boy.”
Amber sobbed, clutching her son to her chest. “Is he okay? Why isn’t he crying?”
Rush leaned over the tiny bundle, who was blinking with very serious, very calm eyes. He pressed his finger to the tiny, steady pulse in the baby’s chest. “He’s perfect,” he said huskily.
“Oh, thank God,” Amber breathed. Then, a look of utter panic crossed her face. “I don’t want to do that again.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” Rush muttered, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with his shoulder. Neither did he.
“You’re incredible,” Lily murmured, pushing Amber’s damp hair back. She cupped a hand under the baby’s bottom to steady him on Amber’s chest. “Oh my God, Am. Look at your son.”
The awe in her voice made Rush look up. Lily’s eyes were wet. Hell. His were too. He smiled crookedly at her, in awe of the power of the woman who had just given birth and the one looking at him like he hung the moon.
But the EMTs better get here soon because as incredible an experience as it had been, he didn’t particularly want to do it again.
Fortunately, headlights flashed in the dusk as Theo’s truck skidded to a stop behind them a second later. He leaped out of the cab, ran straight for the open car door, and dropped to his knees in front of his wife.
“Oh my God,” he choked, staring at Amber, at the tiny bundle. “Is that—? Are you—?”
“It’s your son,” Rush said gruffly. “The other one’s not here yet.”
“But she’s coming,” Amber moaned. “Take the baby. I have to push.”
Theo looked stunned. Then, a huge, dazed grin broke across his face. “You were always so impatient,” he whispered to Amber, kissing her sweat-damp forehead.
When the ambulance pulled up alongside them a second later, Rush had never been so happy to see EMTs in his life. He sat back on his heels, his adrenaline ebbing. His hands shook as he stripped off his gloves.
Lily came up beside him, her breath clouding in the cold air. “You did it,” she whispered. Tears streamed down her face.
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His throat was too tight. But he pulled her to his side and held on tighter.
For the first time in a year, he was proud. And that was enough.