Storm Bonus Content

“You can do this, baby girl.”

 

“You fucking got this.”

 

“YOU. CAN. DO. THIS.”

 

I had no idea where the rage came from, but his pep talk wasn’t helping and, flustered, overheated, in agony, and about to pop something out of my body that was the size of an eight-pound football, I screamed, “I CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS.”

 

There was silence in the hospital room, and I knew why.

 

Keira Miller didn’t swear.

 

God forbid.

 

She was the minister’s daughter.

 

She was a good girl.

 

Well, this good girl had gone bad, and oh, dear Lord, going bad hurt.

 

Why didn’t they tell people this in Sex Ed classes?

 

Why didn’t they focus on the excruciating agony that was giving birth? If they did, then girls would cross their legs for sure because no amount of pleasure was worth this pain.

 

The condom-over-a-banana thing clearly didn’t work because, if it did, I wouldn’t be in the middle of giving birth.

 

“Baby girl,” Asher rumbled, his mouth close to my ear. “I wanna hear you swear more like that.”

 

I blinked up at him, exhausted and weary and wanting to quit. God, I wanted to quit so bad.

 

“Can we put her back in?” I whimpered. “I just need a little break. Just a little one.”

 

His mouth twitched up at the corner, making me want to smack him but he crooned, “I know, darlin’. I know you do. But you can nap soon. I swear to fuck that I’ll let you sleep for a week and will handle all the diapers and everything if you’ll just keep going. You got this. I swear you do. You’re stronger than you think you are.”

 

My mouth trembled. “I’m really not, Asher. I’m really not.”

 

Another contraction hit and I screamed, my back arching, body shaking with the force of it as I surged upward, my head pinned against the pillow as I tried, so hard, to do what nature wanted but…

 

His forehead pushed up against my sweaty one, and he didn’t seem to care that there were all kinds of weird funky smells coming out of every orifice. He didn’t seem to care that there was a doctor, as well as a couple nurses, drifting around between my legs.

 

His focus was on me.

 

Our eyes were so close that, for a second, mine crossed, and then, I heard him, and it was like he spoke to my soul.

 

“I won’t tell anyone. Neither will the doctor or nurses. You swear, baby girl. You fucking swear. You get those words out, you let them rip and you just do what you gotta do to get our girl out. Do you hear me?”

 

My eyelashes whispered to a close. “I-I just need a nap. Just a little one,” I repeated, hoping that if I said it long enough, and often enough, someone would listen and make it happen.

 

It felt like days had passed since the start of this torture. Could it possibly be that long?

 

I gulped when he ground out, “Sweetheart, you gotta focus. You gotta. She’s getting tired, you’re getting tired…” His hands cupped my belly. My big, gross belly that he made me put cream on and when I forgot, he did it himself. The belly he kissed at night, and that he talked to as if it were just him and our kid in the room.

 

My mouth trembled. “You’re gonna make an awesome dad, Asher.”

 

His lips twitched up at the edges. “You think so?”

 

I nodded, my eyes getting wetter as I clenched them harder. “You sure you don’t mind if I swear?”

 

“You can use every fucking word on the Urban fucking Dictionary and I won’t give a fuck. You use them as fucking often and as—”

 

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER! YOU TOUCH ME WITH THAT DICK AGAIN AND I WILL TEAR IT OFF WITH MY BARE HANDS—“

 

“You got this, baby girl,” he growled. “You can fucking do this. I’ll tear it off myself before I let you go through this again—”

 

I screamed through the agony, cursing and wailing and shrieking like a banshee, like good girl Keira Miller would never be allowed to holler.

 

“THIS HURTS SO FUCKING BAD. YOU TOUCH ME AGAIN, AND I SWEAR, I’LL DOSE YOUR FOOD WITH RAT POISON—”

 

“I’lll eat every bite. You’re almost there, Keira. You’re a fucking miracle. You’re my fucking miracle—”

 

As the pain tore me in two, I wailed, I cursed, I spat profanity like they were bullets and I was a gun, body heaving, muscles crying, every part of me torn to shreds. That was when I felt it.

 

I felt her.

 

It was different.

 

She was…

 

“She’s almost here, Keira,” Asher called out, and through my tunnel vision, I saw he was there, looking between my legs.

 

His hand was on mine, so I clutched at it, I clutched at it so fucking hard as I roared through that last push, so desperate for this to be over with, so ready FOR A GODDAMN NAP.

 

I gave one last scream, and that was when I heard her.

 

My baby.

 

I sobbed. So tired, so exhausted…

 

She was crying.

 

Crying and wailing, so mad at leaving the warmth of my body and coming into this cruel, hard world.

 

Through bleary eyes, I flopped back against the hospital bed, and I stared at nothing and everything, unable to process, unable to understand…

 

Then I saw him with her.

 

I saw the nurse hand her to him, and he smiled.

 

He smiled.

 

And it hit his eyes.

 

And as exhausted as I was, so tired that I could go to sleep and never wake up again, joy filled me.

 

He smiled.

 

For her.

 

I’d done that.

 

I’d made her.

 

I’d cosseted her in my body, and I’d loved her and fed her and sat in a goddamn bedroom for months on end, flopping around the bed until I thought I was going to lose my mind, all to keep her safe and sound.

 

Lips trembling into a soft, sleepy smile of their own accord, I looked at him, and I knew, no matter what my parents said, Asher was meant to be the father of my babies.

 

“Cyan. Her eyes are… cyan,” he breathed, saying the words like they were a magic spell.

 

As if God had just spoken to him.

 

As if Motley Crue had just sung a song about her.

 

When he placed her on my chest, I felt as if the world stopped turning on its axis. It was pivotal. It was life-changing.

 

God, it was reaffirming.

 

Everything I’d gone through to get to this point–it made sense.

 

Because she was here. And she was supposed to be.

 

The world started up again with a gurgle from her, and I kissed and cooed her, went through the afterbirth, dealt with the first nursing, and spent the next few hours in an odd state of alertness that dragged at the fatigue of before.

 

I should have wanted to pass out, but I didn’t need to. Not until later that day, at any rate.

 

When, eventually, I began to feel the siren call of sleep tugging at me, that was when I heard him.

 

“I love you, baby girl. My angel. My goddamn angel. Thank you. Never again, I swear. Never. I love you.”

 

The kiss he pressed to my temple meant more than he could ever know, and I let myself fade away, knowing that he’d keep her safe from this cruel, hard world I’d brought her into, that he was the only man who’d ever be able to do that.

 

My Asher.

 

The storm I never expected…