Halligan To My Axe (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 2) (28 page)

I didn’t listen though, because a contraction hit me out of nowhere, nearly stealing my knees out from under me.

Kettle’s eyes narrowed on me as he took in my sweating brow, the hand clutching my stomach, and the claws I currently had sunk into Kettle’s left forearm.

“Contraction?” Kettle asked in concern.

“Yes,” I panted as the pain ebbed, allowing me to breathe once again. “Jesus, these Braxton Hicks ain’t no joke!”

I had already been to the hospital twice in the last two days, and both times, they’d sent me home because I wasn’t experiencing real contractions, but Braxton Hicks.

If these were the fake contractions, they’d have to be administering that epidural at the check-in desk. I’d already threatened Kettle with a gelding if he got me knocked up again. There was no way in hell I could go through this twice. The last nine months had been pure hell.

Morning sickness. Motion sickness. Light sickness. Husband moaning sickness. Anything I could have, I did. Gall bladder attacks. Kidney stones. Allergic reactions to something I’d never been allergic to before. You name it I had it.

And don’t even get me started on the fucking stretch marks and how my body no longer responded to my will. I’d peed on myself more times from sneezing in the past nine months than I had my entire thirty years of life.

Pregnancy really had a way of making you humble.

“Alright, well if they get worse or closer together, let me know. It was nice seeing you Heather.” Kettle said absently.

“Amanda,” she corrected, not caring in the least that Kettle had called her by the wrong name.

“Sorry, Angela. Have a good rest of your day.” He said before pulling me by my hand out the door.

I got a wave in just before the doors closed. “Tiago, you butt head. You damn well knew her name!” I absently slapped him on the ass.

He grinned at me. “Yeah, so?”

I rolled my eyes, and then laughed as I came up on the scene going on in the back of Kettle’s truck.

“Hey! You guys better be taking my truck to the car wash tomorrow!” He yelled as we came to a stop beside Baylee who had a hold of Blaise’s hands.

“Is it working?” I asked.

Baylee snorted. “Yeah, it surprisingly works better than a shower. Why do you have so many cokes in your truck, Kettle?"

Sebastian moved into the bed of the truck as he poured yet another bottle of Coke onto Blaise’s back and answered the question. “Kettle has a craving for Coke. He doesn’t like to run out.”

I would’ve replied, but the wind picked up, blowing sand through the air, which I inevitably inhaled.

Then sneezed.

Then promptly peed all over myself.

“Mother fucker!” I yelled as my hand went down to my crotch.

I held on for dear life as I crossed my legs. “It won’t stop!” I yelled as it continued to pour down my legs. “Oh, my God! It’s like a waterfall. What do I do? What do I do?”

At the time, I didn’t find it the least bit funny.

There I was, standing in the middle of a packed Chili’s parking lot, while I watched two of my best friends in the world pour Coke over their child, all the while I leaked all over my clothes, Kettle’s boots, pants, and the side walk.

It wasn’t until Kettle grabbed my face and made me look into his big blue eyes that I finally calmed down enough to realize that no woman in the world could hold that much pee, let alone a pregnant woman who had a bladder the size of a shot glass.

“I think my water broke,” I whimpered fervently.

Kettle nodded, eyes serious, as he put his hand to my tummy. “Any contractions?” He asked as he looked down at my belly, and then further to my legs.

“No,” I said just as I was slammed hard with a contraction that stole my breath.

He looked down at his watch and calmly timed it as my eyes crossed. “That one was four minutes thirty seconds after the one you had inside. Think it’s time to get you to the hospital.”

They say that first labors take hours. Even days.

I knew within ten minutes of my water breaking that it wasn’t going to take hours. I’d be lucky to have minutes.

Just moments after we got into the truck and headed for the hospital that was fifteen minutes away, I knew I wasn’t going to make it.

“Tiago?” I asked as I leaned forward and panted.

“Yeah?” He queried as he turned down a side road that led to the interstate.

“What would happen if I had the baby right now?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“You’re not. We’ll get there in time.” He assured me.

“I don’t...think...we have time.”

Then I was struggling with my pants, yanking them from the top of my belly, over my hips, and down to pool at my feet.

“What are you doing?” Kettle asked in surprise.

My hand went down between my legs where I felt something that
really
shouldn’t be there. “Uhh, there’s something between my legs.”

“That would be your twat!” Baylee said from behind my seat.

I was shaking my head, and slapping at Kettle’s arm to get his attention. “No really, look at my vagina!”

I hadn’t meant to yell.

Nonetheless, I couldn’t help myself.

I really hadn’t meant for the old man in the pickup next to ours to hear me, but inevitably, he did, and sure enough, he tried to get a look.

Lucky for me he couldn’t see over Kettle’s window, unlucky for me, the man on the opposite side of us could, and he screamed.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. That woman has a bloody alien coming out of her cooch!”

“Why are the windows open!?” I screeched.

Kettle, who’d been waiting for the traffic to move at the stop light, looked over, and his eyes bulged.

“Mother fucker!” he yelled as he cut across two lanes of traffic to pull over in the nearest parking lot. Which happened to be a Wal-Mart.

“Oh, my God! Don’t pull over here! I don’t want to be a ‘people of Wal-Mart’ statistic! Go one more over to that Dairy Queen.”

However irrational it was, there was no rhyme or reason to my madness. If I had to have my baby in a truck without drugs, I was damn well having it where I wanted it.

He obliged, too.

As soon as the truck was in park, Kettle was out of his side and running around the front of the truck while Baylee crawled over the console to look down.

“Do you have a go bag?” Baylee asked Kettle once he got the door open.

Kettle’s eyes were on the disaster that was going on between my legs, but his answer was crystal clear and precise. “Never carried one. You have one; you’re obligated to use it. There’re some gloves in the console that you’re sitting on with a pocket mask, though. Call 911.”

“Already did when I noticed you cut off four lanes of traffic.” Sebastian said from behind me somewhere.

Maybe later I might find the mortification that I should be feeling, but right then, it was nonexistent. Why, you ask? Because my hoo-ha had a baby’s head the size of which my vagina had never seen before (even though my husband was no slouch in the penis size department) coming out of it.

“Oh, for the love of all that’s hol-arghh!” My sentence was abruptly cut short by the arrival of another contraction, this one having an intense urge to push coming on its heels. “Have. To. Push.”

“Adeline, look at me now.” Kettle snapped, making my eyes open.

I stared into his eyes as he calmly leaned the seat back until I was lying flat on my back, and then started studying the head that was slowly making its way out of my body, no matter how much I tried not to push.

“On the next contraction, I want you to push, okay Adeline?” He said firmly.

I nodded, closed my eyes, and then waited for the next agonizing feeling to overtake me.

It did moments later, and I bore down and pushed, just as I was instructed to do.

“Head’s out.” Kettle said softly.

I could feel his hands moving around down there, and I severely hoped with all my being that he didn’t remember this the next time we had sex. There was just no coming back from this. My husband had seen my vag emit a baby’s head the size of a grapefruit. I didn’t see how he could ever forget.

“Sebastian, go get the present we were going to give them later. It’s in the truck in front of Blaise’s seat!” Baylee ordered from the seat beside me.

“Oh my God,” I yelled as I felt the next contraction crest.

“Push!” Baylee and Kettle yelled.

I pushed.

“Just, whatever you do, don’t drop him.” I pleaded between pushes.

Kettle rolled his eyes. “I’ve delivered fifteen babies. Every single one has managed not to be dropped. I think I’ll manage with my own boy. Now push, you’ve almost got him all the way out.”

I couldn’t say how the next three minutes went, but I pushed with all my fucking might, screamed, cursed, and yelled. Most of it was directed towards Kettle, but I saved a few jabs for mankind as a whole.

“Ahhhhh, your goddamned demon spawn needs to get the hell out of my vagina! He’s being evicted! Jesus, it burns!”

“One last push, honey.” Kettle said softly, not even the least bit affected by my threats.

“Excuse me sir, we can take over from here,” An authoritative voice said from directly behind Kettle.

My eyes went to the woman who was trying to take away my lifeline and I snarled. “Back the fuck off, bitch. He’s delivering this kid, so help me God. I will take pleasure in gutting you if you even
try
to interfere.”

Later I’d be told that I resembled a demon as I snarled at the poor lady, but now, the struggle was very real.

Kettle chuckled, and then suddenly, everything, every single thing I was feeling was suddenly gone. The pain abruptly vanished, and in its place was the crying squall of an infant cradled against her daddy’s chest.

“Oh, my God,” Baylee breathed. “You had a girl.”

My eyes, which had finally shut in relief, snapped open at that, and I stared in stunned surprise at my little girl smeared with blood and gore curled up against her daddy’s cut.

“She’s getting your vest bloody,” I said absently.

Kettle smiled. He smiled so wide that I forgot about all the embarrassment I would be feeling only momentarily. I forgot about everything but the happiness on my husband’s face, and I was whole.

“What’s her name?” Sebastian asked from some point that I couldn’t see him.

Thank God.

“Saylor.” I said jovially.

Kettle snorted and I glared at him. “What?”

“You knew all along didn’t you? Gave me the hope that I’d get to name him after my favorite National’s player, and then you rip the rug out from under me. Get to use your name even after you assured me we could name him Jason.” He glared back.

“Guess you’ll never know!” I said cheerfully.

Three months later

“Your baby’s awake.” Kettle said as he walked into the room.

He was dressed in his uniform, which inevitably meant he’d be leaving me here shortly, and I’d be up all night with our little Saylor again.

“I know. I’m too tired to move, though. Maybe you should feed her.” I said tiredly.

“I don’t have the fun bags that Saylor wants.” He teased.

“I’ve heard that men can produce breast milk with hormone treatments.” I replied wickedly.

He snorted. “Yeah, right. I’d look real good with tits.”

“You were the one who said you wanted a baby.” I said into my pillow.

Kettle smacked my ass. Hard. Then left to retrieve Saylor.

I stayed exactly where I was until Kettle brought our squalling child into the room and settled her down on the bed.

I flipped to my side and stayed still while Kettle unsnapped the buttons on my nursing gown, freeing one of the fun bags in question, and laid Saylor down gently.

She hurriedly latched on, going from wailing like a banshee to her hungry food grunt in point four seconds flat.

Kettle chuckled as he ran his large finger down Saylor’s cheek.

“God, I love you.” He said, moving his eyes from his daughter’s hungry mauling to my eyes.

My mouth tipped up in a grin before my eyes drooped heavily. “I don’t hate you.”

He snorted. “I don’t hate you either.” He replied dryly. “I’ve got to go to work. I’ll see you when I get home. Mom’s coming over later. Don’t forget.”

I restrained the urge to laugh aloud. I wouldn’t forget. That woman became a lifesaver our first few days after bringing Saylor home. Now, at three months old, she came to watch Saylor every Wednesday evening so I could get papers graded, and any household chores done. Or even on the rare occasion, go out on a date with Kettle.

There’d been a lot of adjusting when Saylor arrived in our lives.

At three days old, Saylor was pronounced deaf. She’d failed not only her newborn screening, but also her follow up screening.

I’d scoured the internet for days after she’d been pronounced deaf, but the one thing that kept me from totally freaking out was Viddy.

She explained to me that being deaf wasn’t a death sentence. With the advancement in technology in this day and age, Saylor could live a full and happy life without one single thing holding her back.

As I looked down at my perfect little girl, I knew that was true.

She was a very special little girl, and she was absolutely adored by everyone.

Most assuredly her daddy, whom she had totally wrapped around her little finger

Which was why when he came back into the room five minutes later to place one last kiss on his daughter’s cheek, I wasn’t in the least bit surprised.

“Bye baby.” He said as he left for the second time.

I smiled and closed my eyes. Perfect indeed.

***

Kettle

7 months later

“Can she hear me?” I asked the audiologist, Kathy, who’d just put the transmitter on to my baby girl.

Saylor was ten months now and the light of my life.

She was so chubby that she had to waddle when I held onto her fingers when we practiced walking. Her black hair matched her mama’s, but unlike Adeline, she had ringlets. They covered her head from the tips of her roots to the bottom of her hair.