“Hang on,” he says unsteadily. “Gonna get you to the hospital.”
Felix nods. Kade flips his visor down, urging the bike back onto the street. Do I have ten minutes? Twenty? Should’ve remembered my temper. Should’ve just gotten out of the store.
He guides the bike down the streets, the joy of riding evaporating.
Felix isn’t due for another week. His water shouldn’t be breaking now. Did the baby get hurt? Had it been crushed in the fall? Kade swears, his skin prickling. The fall hurt Felix. There are too many cars on the road, too many other things that can go wrong.
The trees and buildings brush by in a mess of colors. Kade pulls into the hospital parking lot, breathing fast. The second he shuts off the engine, he slips off the bike, cradling Felix against himself. “C’mon, get your legs up. I’ll carry you in.”
“I-I don’t think it’s that bad,” he says, pulling his helmet off. But he swallows, looking down at his belly. Kade wishes he could look into it, see if there’s anything wrong with the baby.
“But your water just broke!” Kade swears, stepping around in a circle, his nerves jangling.
“I know, I know.” Felix sets the helmet down, pulling his feet onto the rider’s seat while Kade supports him. “But I mostly sheltered my belly. The baby is still moving. I think we’ll be fine.”
The moment he’s ready, Kade scoops his omega into his arms, striding into the emergency department. “I need to know you’ll be fine,” he says, his voice catching. They’ve been through so much already. “Can’t lose you or the baby.”
Felix leans into his chest, cradling his belly. “Me neither.”
Most of the seats are filled, and the scent of disinfectant permeates through the air. Kade swears, stopping by the receptionist. They can’t wait three hours for the doctor. “My omega fell. He says he’s in pain.”
The nurse looks over Felix, and pulls a walkie talkie from under the counter, radioing a doctor. “I’ll need you to fill in this form,” she says, setting a clipboard down on the counter. “I’m having a doctor come over right now.”
Kade bristles as they wait, scanning for an available doctor. They don’t have time to fill in fucking forms. His omega needs to be examined right now.
It takes forever before a nurse appears. Kade follows her to a room, one with partitioned walls of teal curtains. There, he sets Felix down gently on the bed, the paper sheets beneath him crinkling. Next to them, the ultrasound machines remain silent—Kade recognizes the screens, scanners, and gel tubes.
The doctor steps in after a minute—a tall, built man smelling like mint. He takes the clipboard Kade has hurriedly filled, calmly scanning over the scrawled words.
Kade doesn’t wait for introductions. “I walked backward into my omega and he fell. Says he’s hurting.”
The doctor nods, logging into the computer. He types as Felix talks, then listens to Felix’s heartbeat and lungs. Then he asks questions like Do you have difficulty breathing? Where do you feel pain?
Felix says he breathes fine. Pain in his belly. Kade tenses, watching him, wishing he could help.
The doctor sets the stethoscope on Felix’s abdomen, listening. Then he touches the baby bump, and Felix exchanges a look with Kade, smiling slightly. I think we’ll be all right, Felix’s eyes say, but Kade can’t relax.
“Both your heart rates are normal—the fetus’s is at 150. It’s moving well, no fetal distress.” The doctor takes Felix’s blood pressure, then looks up. “Because Felix fell, we’ll do an ultrasound to check for placental abruption.”
Kade doesn’t know half of what the doctor’s talking about. “Did it break any bones?”
“It shouldn’t have,” the doctor says. “At this point, we’re more concerned about tears in the placenta and bleeding.”
“But he fell,” Kade says. “That’s enough to break something. It broke his water, didn’t it?”
“Minor trauma won’t break the membranes,” the doctor says patiently. “It was probably a coincidence.”
Kade looks at Felix, who shrugs.
The doctor gets Felix to pull his shirt up, and they go over the ultrasound procedures again—the gel, the black-and-white images on the screen. “The placenta appears to be intact,” the doctor says. “But we’re going to have to admit you anyway. Both to monitor you and the fetus for any complications, as well as to prevent infections.”
Kade sighs, slipping his hand into Felix’s. They’re going to be okay, right?
“I’ll transfer you to our labor unit. We’ll be seeing if the contractions start,” the doctor says. “Kade, you may want to return home and pack an overnight bag.”
Kade stares at Felix, his stomach twisting. “I can’t just leave him.”
But he knows that they’ll need to get things ready for the baby. Felix can’t be doing any of that. They aren’t even ready for the baby yet.
“I’ll be fine,” Felix says, squeezing his hand. “Text me if you need anything.”
“I should be saying that to you,” Kade says, but the tension in his shoulders eases slightly when Felix smiles up at him.
“Leave the giraffe with me?”
“I’ll get it,” Kade says. He squeezes Felix’s hand, heading out for the bike.
When he returns some minutes later, he finds Felix in the hallway in a wheelchair, cradling his belly, an ID tag on his wrist. Kade sets the giraffe on the crown of his abdomen, sliding his fingers over Felix’s nape. “You okay?”
Felix beams up at him. “I’m fine.”
“I’ll drop by home really quick. Tell mom you’re in labor. She’ll probably have a better idea what to do.” Kade chuckles. He’s kind of glad, suddenly, that they’re living with his mom. She’s the one with three kids.
“Say hi to her for me,” Felix says, holding the giraffe close. “Ride safe.”
Kade leans in, kissing his bondmate slowly on the lips. “Be back soon. Take care of you and the baby.”
Felix laughs softly against him, his breath warm on Kade’s skin. “Will do.”
53
Kade
Kade dashes in through the front
