Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
From out in the paddock, Dylan could hear the crowd at the Silver H Polo Club.
He knew all the Carter boys were playing from gossip he’d heard in town.
Everyone was excited, it had been a long time since they’d been in a match together.
It wasn’t something Dylan could get excited about.
Imagining Brodie prancing about the place on his flashy horse, preening in his kit, loving the attention.
But then the idea of it reminded him of football games, the roar of the crowd when they ran onto the pitch, the blinding lights, the humming tension, the camaraderie of the team.
They were the only real times of his youth that he had loved.
Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he’d told Mrs. Kennedy what was happening in his home. Would she have got him out? Would he have been able to carry on playing football? Would he have gone to college? Everyone said he was good enough to get a scholarship.
He finished up in the barn and went back outside thinking how it could have been different, but when he glanced over at the house it reminded him that he’d been a kid back then, too afraid to voice the truth.
His dad wouldn’t have let Mrs. Kennedy win without a fight, and Dylan had been too young, too inexperienced to take his father on as an adversary.
Thunder was in the paddock, her coat gleaming as the sun came out from behind the clouds.
The race the previous day had been a disaster.
Thunder had come out strong, but by the halfway point, when she’d usually start to kick it up a gear, whatever Owen did she just didn’t respond, cruised over the finish line in her own good time.
Owen blamed the wind, said she was skittish because of it. Dylan wasn’t convinced.
Either way, it was the end of his tenure as her trainer. He’d wanted to end the season on a high, hand her back to Noah a winner but it wasn’t to be.
He went into the house to grab a bottle of water and was standing in the doorway having a drink when a car suddenly sped up the drive, stopping in a screech of gravel.
He frowned at the unexpected sight and jogged down off the porch to see what was going on. A brown-haired woman, wide-eyed in panic, opened the car door and said breathlessly, “I need your help!”
It was Logan’s wife, Dylan recognized her from around town. As he got closer, he saw she was wincing in pain. “My baby’s coming, and I can’t stop it. It’s too early.”
She doubled over, crying out.
“It’s okay,” he said, crouching down beside her while glancing back up the road to try and work out what to do. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
She shook her head. “It’s too far! I’m not having this baby on the side of the road!”
Dylan had delivered a couple of foals in his time and he would deliver a baby if he really had to, but he certainly didn’t want to. “Is there someone I can call who can help?”
“They’re all at the match, I can’t get through to Logan.”
Dylan winced. Then suddenly Bella looked up from where she was braced by the steering wheel and said between gasps, “Get Maeve. She’s a doctor.”
Maeve. He was pretty certain she was Brodie’s girlfriend, but he couldn’t call either of them because he didn’t have their numbers—and Brodie was currently playing polo—so instead he called Willow.
She answered almost immediately, surprised clearly to hear from him. “Hello?” she said warily.
Trying not to be distracted by the sound of her voice, he concentrated on giving as quick a rundown of the situation as he could.
“Oh, my goodness, I’ll call Maeve and I’ll be right there!”
Dylan didn’t want to admit how relieved he felt at the idea of Willow coming to help.
“I’m going to get you inside,” he said, as calmly as he could as Bella gritted her teeth in pain.
He reached to help her out of the car, but she looked up at him, eyes wide with clear terror and said, “It’s too early.”
She looked momentarily like his mom, eyes damp, face contorted in fear. His whole body tensed, he felt like a kid, helpless. He wanted to back away, get the heck out of there, didn’t matter who was in that car, what was happening, Dylan felt a darkness creeping down over his eyes.
But then through it, he heard Bella cry out and it snapped him back into the moment.
He wasn’t a kid and he wasn’t helpless. He tightened his grip on her and as gently as he could, he helped her out of the car, taking her weight when she stumbled, holding her steady when the pain kicked in.
It was a slow walk up to the house but the whole way he found himself talking to her, telling how it was going to be okay, that Willow was coming and Maeve. “We’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”
When he said it, she nodded, lips wobbling. “Thank you.”
Willow arrived when they were just getting into the house. He heard the skid of tires and the running of footsteps behind him and had never been more relieved to see that gleaming red hair and little upturned nose.
“It’s okay, Bella.” Willow smiled, immediately taking hold of Bella’s other arm to help. “Maeve’s on her way.”
“I’m scared, Willow.”
“I know you are,” she soothed, “but your little baby’s ready and we’re going to do everything we can to make sure he’s okay.”
They led her inside the bare house, over into the living room, sitting her down on the old couch in front of the empty fireplace.
Dylan avoided all the rooms in the house. But this space with Bella in it, and the possibility of a baby—it suddenly became somewhere necessary: a roof and a room.
Another car drove in and he glanced out the window to see a woman who must have been Maeve running toward the house. She looked like she was in her pajamas with a cardigan over the top carrying her doctor’s bag. Another wave of relief washed over him.
Willow clutched Bella’s hand and said, “Maeve’s here, it’s going to be okay.”
Bella nodded. Holding Willow’s hand tight, lip trembling, she said, “Can someone get Logan, please?”
Willow started to stand. “Yeah, I’ll drive over and get him now?—”
But Dylan cut her off. “Quickest way to the Silver H is on horseback. I’ll go.”