Page 11 of Blizzard Babies
“Well, that’s going to be a problem,” I whisper, dread filling me.
“How come?” Sara asks suspiciously.
All eyes turn to me, and I bite my lip.
“Because I think my water just broke.”
Chapter 6
Gage
Laurel should have been home a long time ago. As I stare out at the dark, ominous sky and the snow whipping across the yard, I’m not sure what to do. I’ve been calling her for an hour, but it goes straight to voicemail. Getting in my truck and going out to look for her will be a waste of time. There are whiteout conditions everywhere, and I can barely see what’s right outside my door, much less anything on the road.
I’ve been pacing for the last fifteen minutes, trying to come up with a plan, but Mother Nature doesn’t give a fuck about my plans. Normally, I’m a take-action kind of guy. The problem is figuring out what kind of action to take in a god damn blizzard.
I try not to think about worst-case scenarios, where the girls were in an accident, but how can I not? If they pulled over somewhere or decided it was too dangerous to drive all the way here, one of them would have called.
Charli, Sara, and Whitney all have generators at their houses, so I would’ve heard from Laurel if she was with one of them. The fact that I haven’t tells me something happened.
And I’ve never been good at feeling helpless.
I itch to call one of their husbands, to ask if they’ve heard from them, but that would just worry them for no reason. They’re on the other side of the continent, so what good will it do me to get them involved at this early stage of whatever’s going on?
Sitting here and doing nothing isn’t going to cut it, though.
Matthew is with his nanny, so I go into the closet in our bedroom and start to change my clothes. Thermal underwear, sweats, and then waterproof ski pants, followed by a thick, fur-lined sweater and the waterproof jacket that goes with the pants. My ski mask, a hat, gloves come next, along with two pairs of socks and fur-lined boots. I grab my coat out of the closet downstairs on my way out.
I pause in the bathroom to grab some air activated hand and foot warmers, stuffing them in zippered pockets. I have an old-fashioned compass in the garage, and while I’m not sure how useful it will be, I’m trying to cover all my bases. Going out on my snowmobile probably isn’t the brightest thing I’ve ever done, but my gut is screaming that something is wrong so there’s no way I’m going to just sit here and wait.
My phone rings as I’m checking the gas on the snowmobile and I yank it out of my pocket without even looking at who was calling.
“Laurel?!”
There’s a slight hesitation on the line. “Uh, no. This is Miikka.”
“Miikka.”
Shit.
That was an error on my part.
Now I have to tell him something is wrong.
“Hey, man.” I clear my throat. “What’s up?”
“Is Charli there with you?”
Fuck fuck fuck.
“No.” I let out a huff. “I haven’t been able to reach them in nearly two hours.”
He mutters something in Finnish.
“I’m going out to look for them,” I say.
“Where?” he asks dubiously.
“I’m taking the snowmobile.”
