Page 149 of Player Misconduct
The crowd parts like the Red Sea as I carry Kendall down the aisle, security scrambling to keep up. The noise is deafening—cheers, applause, someone starting a "LET'S GO, DOC" chant that makes Kendall laugh even through the pain.
"You're missing the third period," she gasps against my shoulder.
"This is a better one," I tell her, practically running now.
We burst through the tunnel doors into the parking lot. The cold air hits like a slap, but I don't slow down. Vivi's already got her car running, door open, Isla slides into the driver's seat like she was born for this moment.
"Backseat!" Isla shouts. "Let's move, people!"
I ease Kendall into the car as gently as I can, but another contraction hits and she grips my hand so hard I'm pretty sure she dislocates something.
"You've dislocated players shoulders with less strength," I mutter, trying to keep my voice light.
"I'm about to dislocateyouif you keep talking," she grits out, then immediately softens. "Sorry. Hormones."
"You're perfect," I tell her, kissing her forehead. "You're doing amazing."
Vivi appears at the window, breathless. "We'll follow in my car. Go!"
Isla floors it, tires screeching, and we're off—sirens wailing behind us courtesy of the EMTs Penelope somehow conjured out of thin air.
Labor and delivery smells like antiseptic and hope.
The nurses take one look at us and immediately recognize who we are—half the city's probably watching this unfold live on the Jumbotron—and within seconds, Kendall's in a gown, hooked up to monitors, and I'm pacing the tiny room like a caged animal.
"Sit down," she says, voice strained but amused. "You're making me nervous."
"I'm makingyounervous?" I drop into the chair beside her bed, taking her hand. "You're about to push a human out of your body andI'mthe one making you nervous?"
"You're also still wearing your skates."
I glance down. "Oh. Right."
A nurse appears with hospital socks and a sympathetic smile. "You can change in the bathroom, Dad."
Dad.
The word hits me square in the chest.
I'm about to be a dad.
When I come back, Kendall's in the middle of another contraction, her face twisted with effort, breath coming in short gasps. I'm at her side in an instant, one hand in hers, the other smoothing her hair back.
"Breathe, Doc. Just like we practiced."
"We didn't practicethis," she pants, but she follows the rhythm anyway—four counts in, hold, six counts out.
The doctor arrives, checks her progress, and nods approvingly. "You're doing great. We're almost there."
"Almost?" Kendall's voice rises. "I feel like I've been here forhours."
"It's been forty minutes," I tell her gently.
"That'shoursin labor time."
I kiss her knuckles, murmuring in Finnish—soft, soothing words my mother used to sing when we were scared.
The nurse smiles. "What did you say?"
