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Vaguely, I hear Eyvar radioing ahead for Dr. Williams. I hear arrangements being made for a helicopter to take Rowan to the nearest rural hospital. I hear it all, but the only thing that exists is Rowan.
Her cries of pain physically hurt me. I try to shush her, smoothing my palm over her forehead.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say gently. “You’re with me. You’re fine.” I’m not sure I believe it, but I say it anyway.
Rowan gasps, clutching her belly. “Wolfe, the baby—”
“It’ll be okay. I’m here, Rowan. I’m here.”
Her clear, blue eyes stare into mine, and she reaches up to cling onto my shirt. Her forehead creases in pain as her lips part, and I hang onto my breath as I wait to hear what she has to say.
“I’m so sorry, Wolfe.” Tears fall from her eyes as her grip on my shirt loosens, and she loses consciousness.
My heart collapses as my tears mix with hers. I press my lips to her forehead, her nose, her lips. I grip her hand in mine and put it on top of her stomach, praying to everything I can think of to keep her safe. Keep our baby safe. Keep her with me.
Please, don’t let me go through this again.
