Page 4 of Coyotes Ever After

It feels like we’ve been trying for this baby forever. My wife is radiant and happy most of the time, but the past couple of years, her light has been dimmer. Every day of every month has been a time we could get pregnant, a time we couldn’t, a time we werewaiting to see if a test would be positive, a time we were grieving our loss, a brief time of cautious celebration, or Stella counting the days as our baby developed.

It was hell seeing her face fall every time she looked at a test and it was negative. And a different kind of hell watching her question her own worth as she hoped and prayed to carry this baby to term.

I exhale heavily as I stop at a red light, tapping my thumb on the steering wheel. When the Tampa team heard about my wife being in labor and all outbound flights being grounded, the team’s captain, Connor Kravitz, immediately brought me his car keys and told me to go.

Even though we’re on opposing teams, hockey is a brotherhood. Connor has a wife and kids, and I could tell he felt my panic as he led me out to his car at a full run.

His large SUV is loaded with amenities, but it’s clearly a broken-in family car. There are two car seats in the back and an empty Goldfish bag on one of the seats. Connor assumed I’d be taking it all the way to Denver, and he didn’t even blink. I’ll have to send him and his family something nice to thank them for this.

When I make it to the Atlanta airport, I have to park a long way from the terminal. I drop a pin where I’m leaving the car and text it to Connor, promising to mail the key back to him. He said his wife has an extra that they can use to pick the car up.

I run toward the terminal, pumping my arms to gain speed. I didn’t even take my bag with me; my teammates will make sure it gets home.

Mila’s assistant Quentin texted me detailed directions to the security checkpoint for private flights; I’ll have to do something nice for him, too. He said Mila is at the hospital with Stella, and I can’t help wondering how that’s going.

I can’t get an answer from either of their phones, though. That probably means Stella is at a point in her labor where she can’t even think about her phone. It’s a knife to my gut. I want to be there for her right now more than anything.

As soon as I get through security, I check Quentin’s directions again. I’m about to start running when I see a woman holding a sign with my name written on it in black marker. I walk up to her.

“Ben Hogan?” She grins at me. “I’m Gemma Cartwright, your pilot. Let’s get you home.”

She has a British accent and is maybe thirty years old. I hope she didn’t just get her pilot’s license last week. But this is no time to be picky. I’d get on a rusty plane with one wing to reach Stella.

Gemma takes me to her plane, explaining on the walk that she’s a private pilot for high-dollar clients—mostly celebrities and pro athletes. Our conversation distracts me a little from my worries about Stella.

“I can’t mention names, of course, but there’s a rapper who brings a different woman on every flight, and let’s just say he makes sure all of them join the mile-high club.” Gemma smirks. “But he pays well. I’ll have my plane paid off within the next three years if business keeps up.”

Once we’re on the plane, I stare at my phone screen as I wait for Gemma to get through her preflight work, willing a text or a call to come through. I still can’t believe I missed Stella’s frantic call that she’s in labor.

I run a hand through my hair, looking out a small plane window at the endless concrete runways.

Closing my eyes, I imagine my wife, helplessness rising inside me hard and fast. What if there are complications? What if she needs a C-section and I’m not there with her?

I push the button Gemma showed me to use when I need to talk to her. “Are you going as fast as you can?”

“We should be moving within five minutes.”

I stare at my watch. Three minutes later, the plane’s wheels finally start rolling. Elbows on my knees, I bury my face in my hands, hoping Cam has gotten to the hospital by now.

If Mila’s still there, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s in the hospital waiting room working from her laptop. She’s not exactly a nurturer.

“Come on,Stella.Push. Give it everything.”

When I run into my wife’s hospital room a few agonizing hours later, my jaw drops when I see it’s not a nurse butMilawho’s encouraging Stella. She’s standing up close to the bed by Stella’s shoulder, bending down, my wife’s hand clasped in hers.

“I see lots of dark hair,” Dr. Halverson says with a smile.

Cam meets my gaze and smiles. She’s standing near Stella’s feet, with a view of...holy shit. I’m not sure I want to look there again. I’m in awe of women in general, and Stella specifically.

“Ben’s here, Stella.”

Stella locks eyes with me, her face red as she continues to push.

“Okay, rest,” Dr. Halverson says.

Stella exhales hard, her body going slack.

“You’re here,” she says softly, her tone exhausted.

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