Prologue
Jaxon
“Allright,baby,you’re doing great.”
I wipe the sweat dripping from my wife’s brow with one hand while the other remains tight in her grasp.
It had been almost four hours since Courtney began pushing. Everything has been a blur as things progressed slowly, even though her contractions began yesterday. The doctors discussed preparing for an emergency C-section, but Court just wasn’t having it. She wanted to do it this way for as long as she could—my brave girl.
Andrew, the name we picked out for our son, isn’t even in the world yet and already showing he’s stubborn as hell, waiting a week past our due date for labor to start. He clearly takes after his mother—not that I’m much better.
“Jax, I can’t. I’m so tired.” Her voice is soft and full of exhaustion. She rests her head against the pillow and briefly closes her eyes. Her breaths are harsh and ragged. How the hell a woman can go through this and then some even more than once is beyond me. My wife is a superhero for doing this.
I brush the drenched hair off her forehead and press my lips to her flushed skin.
“You are amazing. We are so close to meeting our baby boy. He’s almost here, Court—just a few more pushes. Remember what your mom said—‘once he’s here, we will forget all about the labor.’ I’m right here, baby.” I give her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “You and me. Ready to meet the little man that has been keeping you up at night with his kickboxing?”
A small smile appears on her face as she nods, and her blue eyes peer into mine. The last few weeks, it seems like Andy was only awake when Courtney was resting or, well, attempting to. Once we felt that first kick, it was like he never wanted to stop moving to make sure we didn’t forget about him or that he always had our attention. Trust me, little guy, there is no way we could. I’m pretty sure since that first positive pregnancy test, it’s all either of us has talked or thought about.
I wish I could say that once he is born, she will finally be able to rest, but I’m not dumb enough to fall for it. Sleep will be a mere dream that we will have to wait eighteen years for—longer if we decide to have another one.
“I love you, Jaxon.”
Pressing my lips to hers, I try to channel all of my strength into her. We’re both exhausted, but she can do this just a little longer. I know she can. “I love you, too.”
“Okay, Courtney, here comes another contraction, and I want you to push, okay? Just a few more, and he will be out,” Dr. Goodwin says from where she is between Court’s legs, which are perched in the stirrups. If I didn’t fear Court punching me in the balls, I would have made a joke that this is a similar position to how we got into this situation.
With one last squeeze of my hand, Courtney takes a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
The sounds of our son’s cries as he takes his first breath in this world soon replace his mother’s screams and grunts. And boy, what a set of lungs he has. Again, something he got from his mother.
“It’s a boy,” Dr. Goodwin confirms, holding him up for us to see. He is beautiful. That is now two times I fell in love at first sight. First with Courtney and now our son, Andrew Colton McAdams.
I rest my forehead against my wife’s, who is heavily panting beside me. Her strength is awe-inspiring. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You did so good.” I press my lips to hers, lingering for a moment before Dr. Goodwin interrupts us.
“Sir, would you like to cut the cord?”
I release our joined hands and step over to Dr. Goodwin to cut the cord. The nurse takes Andy to the station to clean him up and take his vitals while the doctor and other nurses tend to Courtney. Who knew birthing a baby was so intense with the number of people in the room? I’m glad that we opted out of allowing her mother in the room, too. I’m not sure that anyone else would have fit between the staff and equipment.
I glance back and forth between where the nurse took my son and where my wife lies, torn as to whose side to be beside.
“Jax,” Courtney says just above a whisper, “stay with him. Stay with our boy.” It’s as if she knows the internal argument playing out in my head. Although it should be no surprise, most days, she knows me better than I know myself.
I walk the few feet to the nurses’ station. Andy looks up at me as if he sensed his daddy was nearby. My son, my world. I can’t stop the tears falling down my cheeks as we stare at each other, and I take in how perfect he is. I focus on him as the nurse takes his height and weight measurements—seven pounds and twelve ounces and twenty-one inches long.
“Hey, little guy. I’m your daddy.” As I hold my pinky finger out in front of him, my heart skips a beat when he latches onto it. I know it’s really because he is so amazed at the world he was just brought into and he doesn’t know what else to do. I feel like I’m floating on cloud nine, and nothing could bring me down. I can’t wait for Courtney to hold him.
The nurse is just about to place Andy in my arms when a loud beeping noise fills the room. I look up to see that it is coming from the monitor beside the bed. It doesn’t only grab my attention but the doctors’ and nurses’ as well. Before I can even blink, bodies are moving into action as the beeping continues.
My eyes drift from the monitor to my wife, lying in the bed, her head drooped to one side with her eyes closed. “Court?”
One nurse rushes to her side—exactly where I should have been. Why did I leave?
“Baby?” I call out again, but no response.
“Someone get him out of here,” Dr. Goodwin shouts as I try to make my way over to Courtney’s side.
A nurse approaches me, placing her palms on my chest. “Sir, we need you to step out of the room so that our team can work on your wife.” She attempts to push me backward, but I am twice her size and barely budge. I made the mistake once of leaving her side; I’m not doing it again. There is sensory overload in this room, and my head spins as voices shout in medical terms, my son screams, and that damn machine continues to make noise.
I begin to panic, taking quick, shallow breaths. “No,” I bark. “I need you to tell me what’s going on.” I need to get to Andy and to Court and keep them safe.
Using all her strength and taking advantage of my focus being elsewhere, the nurse pushes me back enough to the doorway. “Sir,” she pleads, “please let us do our job.”
I am escorted out of the room, abandoning them both. My heart is racing and my palms sweating as the wooden door in front of me clicks, creating a barrier between me and the two most important people in my life. There are only faint sounds of the commotion on the other side. I feel helpless and completely cut off from the world.
It has already been two long days, and now I’m forced out of the room without even a word about what is going on and if Courtney is okay. The fog in my brain clears as I realize the monitor going off was her heart monitor.
She is in perfect health. Why was it going off like that? I don’t know which is worse, knowing or the unknown? Who am I kidding? It is definitely the unknown.
Rubbing my hand across the back of my neck, I will the tears threatening to fall to go away. How could this happen? My heart is pounding in my chest as I filter through the worst-case scenarios. It could have been a faulty machine. They could rush her to emergency surgery; maybe she fell into a coma. She could even—fuck,I can’t even bring myself to say it.
The tears freely fall now. I can’t lose her. My life would be nothing without her. How could I move on?
Realizing that pacing the floor in front of her room isn’t only not helping but making me more anxious, I lean back against the wall and look up at the ceiling panels. I close my eyes and say a silent prayer for my family. I should go to the waiting room, where my in-laws and best friend, Finn, have waited patiently for updates, but I can’t be around anyone now.
I need to know that she is okay. She just has to be. I can’t do this without her. We just brought a son into this world. We need to raise him together and go on all the family vacations she has spent months talking about.
How am I supposed to do that on my own? Why am I even thinking about things like that? What the hell is wrong with me?
What was supposed to be the happiest day of our lives has turned into the scariest. My legs give out on me, and I fall to the floor with a thump. Resting with my elbows propped up on my knees and my head in my hands, I wait for the doctors to come out with any sort of information. I will take anything at this point. Tell me my wife is okay. Let me hold my son. I can hear his muffled cries through the door, overpowering the commotion. All I want to do is bust through that door and go to him. Hold him in my arms and assure him that his mother will be fine—that we all will be fine. This is all just a nightmare that we will wake up from, and soon we can all go home and be the happy family we’ve always dreamed of.
The image of my son staring at me in my mind is the only thing getting me through this very moment while I wait for something—anything.