Page 103 of Her Ex's Father
This kind of snow—light, fantasy-like—is pleasing to look at. But also, dangerous.
“Ben.” His voice is sharp, urgent. “It’s Meredith.”
Before he says anything else, a hundred scenarios go through my mind, most involving cars skidding in the slick powder or a fall down black-iced steps.
“Maddie went into labor. They’re on the way to the hospital.”
Everything in me stops.
The boardroom disappears—the charts, the suits, the polite bickering. All I hear is that one sentence.Maddie. Labor. Hospital.
I’m on my feet before the chair can slide back. “Get the car.”
Hugh nods, still holding the phone to his ear. “This doesn’t look bad, but the roads aren’t sanded yet. Meredith says it’s moving fast. And they’re predicting a storm rolling into town just about now.”
My blood runs cold as I glance toward the window, where the sky is in fact darkening to the east. A storm. Labor. Maddie.
She’s only thirty-four weeks. That’s too early.
I don’t remember leaving the boardroom, don’t remember taking the stairs two at a time. My chest is a drumbeat of dread as I stride into the snow.
The air only a few miles away is thick with electricity, the sky a bruised black. A wind picks up, swirling the flakes ominously so that they feel like little darts across my face.
The driver pulls up, headlights glowing faintly through the thickening powder. I wrench the back door open and barrel inside, Hugh slipping into the passenger seat, phone still to his ear and face grim.
We make it through a few streets only to be met with the sight of a downed tree across a narrow one-way road, branches like broken bones tangled in the snow.
Getting out of the car, I assess the situation. It’s no small tree, but one that the city probably should’ve taken down sooner rather than later, rot darkening the splintered core.
“Goddamn it!” My voice cracks, carried off by the wind as it gusts louder.
The driver gets out, stammers, “Sir, we’ll need a saw?—”
“No time.” I shove past him, splinters biting into my hands as I grip the trunk. My muscles strain, my shoulder burns, but all I can think is,I can’t lose them. Not her. Not Juniper.
I heave, rage and fear giving me strength, until the tree shifts just enough for the car to squeeze by. My breath saws out, my hands raw, but I don’t stop.
“Drive.”
We lurch forward, tires sliding on wet asphalt.
My mind spins with images I can’t stop: Maddie pale and screaming, the baby somehow caught, doctors shaking their heads. Georgiana’s face flickers in my memory, the memory of getting to her too late, and bile rises in my throat.
I press my fists against my knees, forcing myself to breathe. Maddie isn’t Georgiana. This isn’t then. But fear claws up anyway, vicious and unrelenting.
I’ve built empires, crushed rivals, stared down men who’d kill me without hesitation. None of it prepared me for this. For the thought of losing her. Losing both of them.
Eventually the hospital looms ahead, lights flickering under the assault of the storm now in full-force. Down the length of the streets, orange plows move like monsters, pushing out through the haze.
I shove the car door open before it stops, snow immediately packing into my collar and covering my shoes. The hospital lights glow in the darkening city despite it being only just after noon.
Stalking toward the glass doors, my breath catches in my throat and I gasp, praying with each heavy step.
Chaos. Nurses rushing, voices raised, monitors beeping.
“Bronson?” someone calls, and Meredith appears, soaked from melted snow and frantic. Relief floods her face when she sees me.
“She’s here. She needs you.”
