Chapter Thirty-Five Xalori Carson
It started with a cramp. Then another. Then I felt that kind of pressure that made my whole-body tense and my breath catch like I’d swallowed fire.
At first, I tried to brush it off. Tried to breathe through it like the doctors said. Tried to tell myself it was Braxton Hicks and not the real thing—not yet, not now. We weren’t ready.
“Mama?” Nasir whispered, eyes wide, voice trembling. “What’s wrong?”
I doubled over on the kitchen island, sweat slicking my forehead, both hands gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping me upright.
“I’m okay, baby,” I lied.
But I wasn’t. Not when another contraction slammed through me like a freight train. Not when Ginger’s cries got louder. Not when I realized my water had just broken and Eason wasn’t here.
Panic clawed at my throat. I was about to bring life into the world while holding the pieces of it together with trembling hands and terrified kids clinging to me like anchors in a storm. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Not here. Not like this. Not without him.
But ready or not, this baby was coming. And I had to survive it. For them. For me. For us.
The pain hit me so sharp and sudden, it stole the breath straight out of my lungs.
I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, my knees buckling as a contraction rolled through me like a fucking wave made of fire.
My belly tightened, hard as stone, and all I could do was groan low in my throat, trying to keep calm for the kids’ sake.
But they knew something was wrong.
Ginger was crying, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she stood by the barstools clutching her bunny. Nasir was standing frozen near the couch, wide-eyed and stiff like he was back in one of his nightmares.
“Mama?” his voice cracked.
“I’m okay,” I forced out between clenched teeth, swallowing down the scream building in my throat. “I just… I need you to grab my phone. On the table. Hurry, baby.”
He scrambled toward it like the floor was on fire, swiping it up with both hands and rushing back to me. I snatched it from him, fumbling with the lock screen, my hands shaking like leaves in a storm.
“Eason,” I gasped as soon as he picked up. “Baby—contractions… they’re fast… real fast.”
I could hear his tires screeching already, the roar of the engine telling me he was cutting through every red light in the city.
“I’m on the way. Keep breathing, Muffin. Where are the kids?”
“Here… Ginger’s scared, Nasir’s trying to stay calm—” I sucked in a harsh breath as another contraction slammed into me, this one worse than the last. “Fuck! I don’t know if I can—”
“You can,” he said, voice razor-sharp and full of fire. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. I’m pulling up in three minutes. Hold on. Just hold on.”
I dropped the phone onto the speaker and let it fall to the counter. Nasir rushed to my side, his little hands on my back, rubbing like he’d seen Eason do whenever I was in pain. Ginger was still crying, hiccupping around sobs, unsure if she was allowed to touch me.
“Come here,” I said through a groan, reaching for her. “It’s okay. Mama’s okay.”
They both came in close, and I sank down to my knees, wrapping them in my arms like shields. My body was breaking. My mind was spiraling. But my kids were the only thing keeping me tethered.
A few seconds later, the front door burst open.
Eason was a blur of black and rage, his gun already drawn even though no threat existed in the room.
His eyes landed on me and the kids, and in two strides, he was there—scooping Ginger into one arm, Nasir into the other, and barking into his phone for the emergency team to meet us downstairs.
He knelt down and kissed me hard. “I got you. Let’s go have our baby.”
And somehow, in the middle of the chaos, I believed him.
The contractions were coming fast now. Too fast.
“Eason,” I groaned, squeezing his hand so tight I felt his bones grind. “This ain’t normal. They’re close, really close. We’re not gonna make it in time.”
“Yes, we are,” he muttered. “Ain’t no other option.”
But then traffic hit us out of nowhere. Red lights stretching down the interstate like a damn Christmas parade, horns blaring, sea of brake lights, and construction signs. And not a damn detour in sight.
“Fuck!” Eason slammed his palm against the wheel, making Ginger start to whimper in the back. “I swear to God, if I lose it right now—”
He yanked the gearshift into park and threw his door open.
“Eason, what the hell are you doing?” I hissed, another contraction stealing my breath as he popped the trunk.
“Getting you to the hospital.” He growled, already pulling a bright orange emergency vest out the back, the kind his security team used to redirect traffic at events.
“Get back in this damn car!” I yelled, but my voice broke mid-sentence.
He ignored me of course. Next thing I knew, this man was standing dead in the middle of the road, vest on, arms waving like he was about to direct a damn military convoy. Horns blared louder now, people shouting and cussing, but Eason didn’t give a single fuck.
“Emergency!” He shouted over the noise. “I got a pregnant woman in active labor, move the fuck out the way!”
And to my complete shock, they did. One by one, the cars started to shift, parting like the damn Red Sea. Some people cursed him out, others just stared, but nobody wanted to be the one responsible for keeping that crazy-looking Black man from getting his woman to the hospital.
Within minutes, he was back behind the wheel, gunning the gas like the Charger had wings.
“Eason,” I breathed out, tears finally slipping past my lashes. “You could’ve gotten arrested.”
“For you?” he said without even looking at me. “I’ll take the cuffs and wear ‘em with pride. I told you I’ll burn the world down before I let anybody take you from me.”
The hospital doors burst open like they knew Eason wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Somebody better bring a fuckin’ wheelchair!” He bellowed, carrying me bridal-style through the entrance, his voice slicing through the air like a warning shot. “She’s in labor, contractions are minutes apart!”
A nurse jumped up from behind the check-in desk, eyes wide as hell. “Room five is open, get the OB, now!”
They scrambled around us like ants under pressure while Eason stormed down the hallway with me in his arms. My gown clung to my body, soaked in cold sweat, pain rolling through me in waves so violent it felt like my whole body was cracking apart.
“Baby, breathe,” Eason murmured, brushing my hair from my face, his voice dropping low in my ear. “I’m right here, Muffin. You’re not doing this alone.”
I clung to him, nails digging into his shirt, my breath coming out in short, panicked gasps.
“It’s too soon,” I choked out. “The baby’s not ready, I’m not ready—”
“You are,” he cut in. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. You carried pain most people couldn’t survive and still woke up every day loving the ones who needed you. You were made for this.”
I didn’t answer cause I couldn’t. Another contraction ripped through me, and I screamed, my entire spine arching as I tried not to pass out.
“Get her hooked up now!” A doctor snapped as we were rushed into a private delivery room.
My vision blurred as the lights above me turned to halos. Everything slowed down except the sound of my heart and the baby’s heartbeat. I could hear their heartbeat thudding through the monitor, fast and strong, like they were fighting. Like they were ready, even if I wasn’t.
“Her pressure’s still too high,” one nurse warned. “We need to stabilize before she pushes or—”
“I’m pushing,” I gasped. “I—I can’t hold it anymore.”
“Then we move now,” the doctor barked. “Let’s bring this baby into the world.”
Eason gripped my hand, his forehead pressed against mine, his other palm resting on my belly.
“I’m here, Muffin,” he breathed. “I’m not going nowhere. You hear me? You’re not leaving me, and you’re not losing this baby.”
“I’m scared,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
“I know,” he said softly, voice cracking. “But I’m not. I believe in you. I got you. And when our baby gets here, we’re gonna love them so damn hard, the universe gon’ owe us.”
The room faded out. All I could hear was his voice. All I could feel was his grip. And then, with a final scream and a rush of heat, my was here.
A wail split the room—loud, angry, beautiful. And I broke, right there in the middle of it all. Tears streamed down my face, too thick to wipe, too sacred to stop.
They laid her on my chest, and my whole soul shattered. He was perfect. Brown-skinned and pink-lipped with ten fingers, ten toes, and a cry that sounded like redemption.
I looked up at Eason, and his eyes were glassy, jaw clenched like he was holding back an entire flood just to be strong for me.
“He’s here,” I whispered. “He made it.”
He nodded once; lips pressed to my forehead.
“He’s ours.”
The baby’s cries rang out through the room, but mine never came. I heard him. I felt him. But I couldn’t move.
Everything felt too heavy and too slow. My vision blurred, blackness edging in like the lights were dimming from the inside out. My head rolled to the side as the nurse reached for me, her voice suddenly muffled, panicked.[MH6]
“She’s losing consciousness! BP’s dropping again!”
I blinked, but it felt like trying to lift bricks with my eyelids.
No. No, not now. Not like this.
“Muffin?” Eason’s voice sliced through the chaos, sharp, breaking, trembling in a way I’d never heard before. “Muffin, look at me.”
I tried, but my body wouldn’t obey.
“Nah, fuck that,” he growled. The chair scraped back. I felt his hands on me, his warmth and his breath. Then his fingers cradled my face, firm but careful. His forehead pressed against mine, grounding and anchoring me.
“Stay with me, Muffin,” he whispered, voice cracking like it hurt to speak. “Don’t you fucking leave me. You hear me?”
My name in his mouth didn’t sound like a plea. It sounded like a prayer.
“You breathe, dammit,” he choked. “You keep them eyes open. I’ll get on my knees, I’ll pray, I’ll fuckin’ sell my soul if I have to, but don’t you dare leave me. Don’t you dare leave them babies.”
A sob tore through his chest and shook his words loose. “We just built this life. Don’t make me raise them alone, Muffin. Don’t make me carry this shit without you.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t cry. Couldn’t even blink. But I heard him. Every word. Every fear. Every piece of him that was breaking.
And then I felt a tiny, small, soft, and warm hand gripping my fingers.
“Mommy, wake up. Please… I’m scared.” Nasir pleaded.
The small and shaky tone of his voice broke something in me. Not in a painful way. Not in a dying way. But in a way that pulled me back.
I gasped, sharp and hard, lungs inflating like I was tasting air for the first time. My fingers twitched and my eyes fluttered.
The monitor beeped steady again as the nurses shouted updates. But all I heard was Eason’s breath hitch in relief.
All I felt was his lips on my forehead as he whispered, over and over again. “You stayed. You fuckin’ stayed.”