Page 240 of Wild Then Wed
She gives a faint nod, her lips trembling, and I work as gently as I can to slide them down over her hips, damp denim clinging to her skin.
There’s no crowning yet. But her screams are telling me we’re not far off.
She pants through another wave of pain, then slumps back, exhausted. Her eyes flutter open.
“I thought they were Braxton-Hicks,” she whispers. “I’ve been getting them for weeks now. I just—by the time my water broke—” she lets out a sob—“it was too fast.”
I nod, keeping my voice calm. “That happens sometimes. You’re doing so good, Anna. Just keep breathing through it, alright? You’re not alone.”
She takes in a shaky breath, then another, and another contraction hits—but it’s shorter, not as sharp. She clenches her jaw, rides through it, then collapses back again, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her shirt.
“I can’t believe I’m having this babyhere,” she sobs. “In a fucking barn.”
“I know,” I say quietly, brushing hay out from under her head. “But when Sawyer gets here, we’ll use his phone and call the adoptive parents, let them know what’s going on.”
She waves a limp hand in the air like she’s brushing that thought away. “Don’t bother.”
My brow pulls. “What?”
“They’re not the adoptive parents anymore,” she says, staring up at the rafters like she’s trying to detach from her own words.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. “Wait…so you’re keeping the baby?”
She shakes her head again, slowly this time. “I can’t. You know that. I have a future ahead of me, Wren.” Another contraction hits and she groans, eyes screwed shut, body curling in against it.
I reach for her hand, and she clutches it like a lifeline.
“Does Sawyer know how to deliver babies?” she gasps through gritted teeth.
I shrug, trying to look way more confident than I feel. “He delivers animals and we’re all mammals. That’s got to count for something.”
Anna lets out a broken dry laugh that quickly morphs into a sob. Her grip on my hand tightens.
“Anna,” I say, squeezing back. “Look at me.”
She does, barely.
“We’ll get through this together, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.”
And I mean it. Even if I’m scared out of my damn mind.
Anna whimpers, her eyes squeezed shut, sweat glistening along her brow. “It hurts so bad,” she gasps, voice cracking. “I’ve never felt pain like this before.”
“I know,” I whisper, kneeling beside her again. I brush her damp hair gently off her face, over and over, just to give my hands something to do. “I know.”
And I do. Not from experience, but from instinct. From watching animals push through it, from watching mothers survive it. From watching my own mother birth Ridge and then Sage. But seeing Anna here—curled on a horse blanket in the middle of a barn, clutching her belly like the pain might split her in half—I realize how young shereallyis. Barely a young adult.
She looks up at me through damp lashes, blinking against the overhead light. “How are you so calm right now?” she pants. “You haven’t even freaked out.”
I let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t so ragged. “I’m glad you think I’m calm.”
“No, really,” she says, dragging in another shaky breath. “You’ve got this…thing about you. Like…you’re good in an emergency. That’s why the horses trust you, right?”
My throat tightens, but I nod. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just too shocked to panic.”
She lets out a strangled sound that could’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t followed by another scream. Her whole body tenses, feet kicking out slightly, hands fisting the blanket.
I move back down, checking again. Still no crowning. I whisper something—encouraging, maybe useless—but she can’t hear me through the pain.
