Getting Played (Getting Some, #2)(62)

“Okay, Lainey—you’re about two centimeters dilated, and it looks like you’re in preterm labor. But we’re going to give you something to stop that.”

Connor writes on a clipboard and tells the nurse to administer medication. She nods eagerly, looking up at Connor with idol worship in her eyes, hanging on his every word, like he’s a doctor god. But Connor doesn’t notice.

If was in my right mind, I’d tell him he should give the pretty young nurse a second look. But at the moment, my only focus is on the woman next to me, so Connor’s on his own.

“Then we’re going to send you up to OB and they’re going to take really good care of both of you there. All right, Lainey?” Connor smiles reassuringly.

And Lainey’s head bobs in a jerky nod.

“We’re going to get the IV started with the medication and I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit,” Connor says.

“Okay,” Lainey answers. “Thank you.”

When Connor steps out through the curtain, I kiss Lainey’s hand.

“I’ll be right back.”

Then I leave her with the nurse, following him out.

“Connor.”

He’s already waiting for me. My voice is raw and hushed, because I don’t want Lainey to hear.

“They’re going to be okay, right? I need you to tell me they’re going to be okay.” A lump swells in my throat, threatening to strangle me. And my eyes burn hot behind my eyelids. “But if they’re not—I need you to tell me that too.”

Out of all Garrett’s brothers, Connor was the one we went to when things got serious—when we really screwed up. When we were all in my car, when we were seventeen, and I hit a curb and blew out the tire because I’d had a few beers before getting behind the wheel—we called Connor. He reamed my ass out, and then he helped us fix it. When Garrett, Callie, me and Debs missed the last train home from New York City—when we weren’t supposed to be anywhere near New York City—it was Connor who came to pick us up.

He’s a rock—more than a big brother, the closest thing I’ve ever had to a hero. So if he tells me Lainey and the baby will be okay, I’ll believe him.

He puts his hand on my shoulder. “The contractions aren’t ideal, but she’s healthy and her water hasn’t broken and the baby is good—there’s no signs of distress. Those are all positives.”

I let out a relieved breath. “Okay. Good, good.”

“I’ve seen early labor before, even a few weeks earlier than Lainey. With medication and bed rest, those pregnancies were carried to term—baby and mom both came out of it healthy.” He smacks my shoulder. “Are you going to be able to hold it together?”

There’s not even a speck of question in my mind, not a shred of uncertainty. There was a time when I thought being completely whipped over someone put you at their mercy. Made you weak.

Boy, for a guy who’s so smart I was a real moron.

Caring with every piece of your being makes you strong, makes you capable of doing things you never imagined you could.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m here. Anything she needs, it’s already done.”



~



They admit Lainey to the OB ward, put her in a private room and give her terbutaline to stop her contractions. Lainey calls her parents and sisters to let them know what’s going on. I call Grams and fill her in, and she calls Garrett and asks him to drive her over to Lainey’s so she can check on Jason, even though Lainey’s sisters are staying at the house with him.

As the clock creeps toward midnight, the hospital halls settle down and go still except for the occasional nurse walking past or coming in to check Lainey’s vitals. It’s after visiting hours, but no one gives me a hard time from my perch on the vinyl chair beside her hospital bed—which is good—because they’d have to knock me unconscious and drag my ass out, if they want me to leave her.

The lights are low and the room is dim except for the gray glow of the television on the wall that neither of us are watching.

“You don’t have to stay, Dean.”

Her voice is soft and sniffley, her eyes still leaking worried tears. And I would give anything to take them away.

“I’m good here.” I tap the arms of the chair. “Super comfy.”

I may never be able to stand up straight again after this.

But it’s worth it.

“This is a really bad one,” Lainey whispers and I hate the flatness of her tone. Defeated. It doesn’t sound anything like her, like she’s supposed to sound.

“A bad what?”

She shakes her head and dabs at her puffy eyes with the tissue clenched in her hand.

“I have this theory, it’s stupid. Life is full of surprises—good and bad. And this one . . .” Her words choke off in a sob, and it’s like I can feel my heart breaking in my chest—like the sound of her sadness is tearing it in two.

I slide into the bed beside her, wrapping her up in my arms and rocking her slowly as she shudders and hiccups against me.

“Dean, if the baby’s born too early, it may not—”

“The baby’s going to be fine, Lainey. You’re both going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”