“Emery’s in labor.” Holland screeches.
Reed and I look at each other again, momentarily frozen. Mostly in shock. That was not what either of us were expecting Holland to say.
“Graham!” Emery yells.
I scramble from the couch, realization hitting me.
Oh. Fuck.
The bag. That bag, the one that I packed with Emery six weeks ago just in case. That bag. THE bag.
Fuck. Shit, where are my car keys?
I’m rushing around her house like a fucking chicken with my head cut off because apparently hearing the words “Emery’s in labor” sends my brain over the edge.
“Graham.”
“Okay, I’m grabbing the bags. The car seats are already installed in my truck, and I’ll grab the stroller too just in case we need it. Reed, have you seen my keys? I swear I left them over th-”
“Graham.”
Oh yeah, I forgot, I put them in the bathroom.
“Adams,” Reed barks, halting me mid-step.
I glance over at Emery who's breathing heavily through her nose while Holland rubs her back gently.
“Shit, I’m sorry Em.”
She smiles through a grimace, “It’s okay. The bag?”
“Right, the bag. One second.” I sprint to the girls room, grab the bag, and am back in the living room in fifteen seconds flat.
“I’m going to pull the car around, be right back.” Reed says over his shoulder, disappearing out the front door, leaving me with Em and Holland.
I walk over, and lace my hand in hers, helping her towards the front door. Her face is scrunched in pain, and her hands remain on her stomach.
“Everything’s going to be okay, babe. You’ve got this, and I’ll be by your side the entire time.”
Her eyes hold mine, and then suddenly her hand tightens around mine as another contraction hits her.
“Get me to the hospital… now. Before I have these babies on the floor.”