First Crush, My Forever

Chapter 134

  The room feels smaller now.

  Not because anything has moved, but because everything that matters is happening inside this one space. The lights are low. The monitors hum steadily. The smell of antiseptic mixes with sweat and something metallic I try not to think too hard about.

  Dani is propped up in the hospital bed, hair damp, face flushed, eyes sharp and exhausted all at once. Her hand is locked around mine so tight my fingers have gone numb, and I do not care. I would let her break bones if she needed to.

  Another contraction is already building. I can see it before she says anything. Her breathing shifts. Her jaw tightens. Her shoulders curl forward like her body is bracing before her mind can catch up.

  "I'm here," I say, low and steady, right by her ear.

  She nods once. That is all she has energy for.

  "Okay Danielle," the doctor says calmly from the foot of the bed. "Big breath. When it peaks, push."

  The contraction crests hard. No warning. No mercy.

  Dani bears down with everything she has, face tightening, breath held, a sound ripping out of her chest that makes my heart stutter. Her grip on my hand tightens impossibly and I lean closer, anchoring her, forehead pressed to her temple.

  "That's it," I tell her. "That's perfect. Keep going."

  She pushes for the full count, shaking by the end of it, then collapses back against the pillows, gasping. Sweat beads along her hairline. I brush it back gently, carefully, like she might shatter if I'm too rough.

  "I can't," she whispers, not defeated, just overwhelmed.

  "Yes you can," I say immediately. "You already are."

  The monitors beep steadily. Our son's heartbeat is strong and fast and constant, filling the room with proof that this is real, that he is okay, that she is doing this.

  Another contraction builds faster this time.

  "Again," the doctor says. "Deep breath and push."

  Dani nods, teeth clenched. She pulls her knees in as much as she can and pushes again, harder this time. Her face changes, not panic, not fear, but something primal and focused, like her body has taken over completely. I count with her. I keep my voice even, even though my chest feels too tight to breathe.

  "You're so strong," I murmur. "You're doing so good baby."

  She cries out again, raw and unfiltered, and it goes straight through me. I feel useless and necessary at the same time. There is nothing I can do to take this from her, but I can stay. I can be solid. I can hold her hand and not let go.

  Between pushes, she slumps back, eyes closed, breathing hard. I kiss her temple.

  "Don't leave me," she whispers.

  "I'm right here," I say. "I'm not going anywhere."

  The doctor shifts slightly. The room tightens. My heart slams into my ribs. Dani's eyes snap open. She looks at me, fear and awe crashing together.

  "He's right there," I tell her. "You're almost there."

  Another contraction hits before she can respond.

  "This one," the doctor says. "This one matters."

  Dani pushes with a sound that barely sounds human, every muscle in her body straining. Her face goes red, then pale, then red again. I feel her shaking and press closer, murmuring her name over and over.