Coyotes Ever After (Colorado Coyotes #7)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

THREE YEARS AFTER THE END OF THE FALL

Stella

“Ahhhh!” I hike my leg up onto the back seat of Mila’s Range Rover. “Is it crowning? It has to be because this hurts like fuuuuuck!”

She gapes at me, her uniformed driver giving me an alarmed look in the rearview mirror as he presses his foot down on the gas pedal, speeding toward the hospital like a racecar driver.

“What? I’m not checking if that’s what you’re thinking.” She gives me her patented look that’s somehow a combination of disgust and indifference. “Just keep breathing. We’ll be at the hospital soon.”

On the one hand, I’m elated. Ben and I tried for almost a year to get pregnant the first time, and I lost the pregnancy at eight weeks. After I recovered, it took thirteen anxiety-inducing months to get pregnant again, and at thirty-nine weeks, it’s now safe for me to deliver our baby.

But I didn’t imagine it like this, with Ben in Tampa for a road trip, all flights out of the city grounded by a hurricane. When I realized I was in labor and frantically messaged the group chat for the Coyotes players and spouses, only Mila responded that she was on her way.

No Ben. No Cam. No Tess or Shelby. It’s just me and the team’s hotheaded Russian owner. Well, and her driver, Carl, who seems like a nice person but was not part of my carefully-designed birth plan.

“Look at my vagina!” I scream at Mila, frantic. “You have to guide the baby out if it’s crowning!”

She lowers her brows, scowling. “For fuck’s sake, Stella, it’s not crowning. This is your first baby and your contractions are still five minutes apart. I was in labor for nineteen hours with Anastasia and thirteen with Irina.”

I yell out a long, single syllable, about to lose my shit. This is the worst. Ben didn’t want to go on the road trip with me this pregnant, but he had no choice. So now contractions are ripping through my body and I don’t have my birth partner. Cam is my back up, and she’s trying to secure a babysitter so she can get to the hospital.

Angry tears spill from my eyes. “Mila, I swear to God, if you don’t look at my vagina right now, I will never forgive you! I’ve waited a long time for this baby and I’m scared.”

She shakes her head, her glare softening. “Fine. I’ll look. But I’m not touching your underwear.”

There’s a low, electric humming sound as Carl raises up the dark partition that separates the front and back seats of the car.

At least I’m not alone. Mila isn’t an outwardly warm person to anyone but her family. Her love language with everyone else involves writing checks, and she’s generous. She always tells her players to put family first, and she backs them up when they do.

I put my foot back on the car floor. My maternity pants have a loose elastic waistband, so I grab it and my underwear at the same time, grunting as I arch my hips up off the car seat to slide my clothes down.

“I’ll just...donate this car to charity or something,” Mila says crisply.

I’m in no mood.

“Fuck you, Mila,” I snap. “You’re the one who offered to take me to the...oh fuck! It’s another contraction! Get down there; you might need to deliver the baby!”

“Breathe, Stella.”

She helps me get my clothes from around my ankles. Moving one foot back up to the car seat, I pant and moan my way through a rising contraction as Mila gets to her knees on the floor.

“Jesus, I’ve never been this close to another woman’s vagina,” she mutters. “And I was right, the baby isn’t crowning. You’ll make it to the hospital just fine.”

“Oh God! It’s like someone’s stabbing me in the stomach with a machete!”

Mila moves back into her seat, answering her phone. “Hey...yeah, I’m taking her to the hospital.”

She moves her mouth away from the phone to talk to me. “Colby says Ben borrowed a car from a Tampa player and he’s driving to Atlanta to get a flight to Denver.”

“Ben,” I say frantically. “Can I talk to him?”

“Colby’s not with him, but he’s on his way.”

She goes back to the call. “Call Quentin and tell him to arrange a chartered flight for Ben...yeah, tell him to get a pilot on standby...thanks, love...okay, I will. Bye.”

I take a deep breath as the contraction winds down. “I have a birth plan. It’s in the planner in my bag.”

She laughs, genuinely amused. “I don’t get birth plans. You’re going to deliver a baby. What is there to plan?”

“Who will be in the room with me, whether I want an epidural, whether my pubic hair is shaved.”

She scoffs. “Did you read a birth planning book from the 1980s? They don’t shave women’s pubes anymore.”

I put a hand on my stomach, narrowing my eyes at her. “Can you just... pretend to be a nice person? Just for this car ride?”

“Fine.” She sighs heavily. “But the best thing you can do is just roll with it. Your body knows what to do.”

This bitch. I’m having my first baby and she’s acting like I’m trying to pick out a scarf or something.

“I’m sure you delivered your kids standing up,” I snap. “Squatting and not making a sound, right? And you probably stopped by the office on the way home from the hospital.”

She gives me a pointed look. “I took twelve-week maternity leaves with both girls. And I was a wreck when I was in labor, but it didn’t help anything.”

The sign for the hospital comes into view and I breathe a sigh of relief. A second later, though, panic hits hard. Arriving at the hospital makes this feel more real than it did before. I’m in labor. And Ben’s not here.

“Drop me off at the door,” I tell Mila.

“Of course he’ll drop us off at the door. And I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Something about the word “alone” makes me burst into tears unexpectedly. My mom should be here with me, but she died of cancer shortly after Ben and I got married. I want her more than anyone. More than Ben, even. I want my mom beside me, assuring me everything will be okay.

“Sorry.” I swipe tears from my cheeks. “I just wish my mom was here.”

As hard as I’m trying to compose myself, I just can’t. A sob escapes my chest as the unfairness of it sets in. My mom won’t be here to hold her grandbaby for the first time. She’ll miss every milestone and every birthday. I’ll miss her advice. I’ll never get to see what a great grandma she would have been to my child.

“I wished for my mom, too,” Mila says, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.

Our eyes lock, and in those few seconds, I feel closer to her than I ever thought possible.

The car slows to a stop and Carl scrambles out of the driver’s seat to open my door. I give him a grateful smile as he bends to offer me his arm for support.

“Oh no, another contraction is starting.” I grab him and haul myself out of the car; someone in scrubs coming toward us with a wheelchair.

“We want a private birth suite,” Mila tells the woman in the scrubs, typing out a message on her phone.

The woman lowers her brows with a confused look as Carl helps me into the chair. “Ma’am, I’m just here to bring her inside. I don’t have anything to do with assigning patient rooms.”

A look of annoyance flashes across Mila’s face. I grit my teeth, squeezing the arms of the chair.

“Good luck.” Carl pats my hand before turning to go.

I’m wheeled into the building, keeping a protective hand on my stomach as people watch me panting my way through the contraction.

“I want to talk to Ben!” I can’t see Mila, but I yell it, knowing she’s behind me.

I’m wheeled onto the elevator about half a minute later and Mila follows. “I tried to call him but I don’t have service in here.”

“This isn’t how this was supposed to happen.” I burst into tears again.

What’s with me? I’ve been a little more emotional than usual throughout this pregnancy, but right now, I’m a mess. I’ve envisioned myself so many times as a calm, levelheaded mother-to-be who soaks in every second of the delivery experience.

The pain of the contraction spikes, a sharp, hot pain that makes me scream. I lean back in the wheelchair and part my legs. “Oh my God! Someone check to see if the baby’s crowning!”

“We’re almost to OB,” the woman behind the wheelchair assures me.

“The baby isn’t crowning,” Mila says absently. “Keep breathing.”

“You don’t know!” My face contorts in an ugly cry. “Just check, Mila.”

The elevator doors open and I’m wheeled out. A nurse in dark-pink scrubs smiles as she approaches us and takes over the wheelchair handles.

“I’m Stella Hogan,” I say through my tears. “I’m thirty-nine weeks.”

“I know. Your friend called ahead to tell us you were coming. Dr. Halverson is on her way. I’m Erin.”

“I had Quentin call,” Mila says from...somewhere.

I turn to find her. She’s walking behind us, looking like she’s about to chair a board meeting in her charcoal business suit and black heels, her arms crossed.

“Thanks,” I say weakly.

“How far apart are the contractions?” Erin asks as she pushes the wheelchair into a room.

“Super close. I think the baby might be crowning,” I practically wail.

“Four minutes and fifteen seconds,” Mila says. “This is her first baby.”

Erin helps me get onto a bed, Mila walking around to stand on my other side.

“We’re going to get you hooked up to a monitor,” Erin says. “How are you feeling, Stella?”

I meet her eyes, about to tell her I’m doing fine, when my throat tightens with frantic tears as I feel another painful contraction starting. They get more intense each time.

“I want Ben. I want my husband and he’s not going to be here.”

Mila explains to her where Ben is and how he’s trying to make it back and Erin gives a sympathetic hum.

Crying so hard while panting and moaning through the contraction makes me into an even bigger mess. Erin takes my hand and leans down close to me.

“It’s okay, Stella. Just breathe and try to relax. I know it’s hard. Your husband is on his way. I’ll be here with you every step of the way, okay?”

I’m flooded with the pain of my miscarriage. The absolute devastation of hearing that nothing could be done and I was losing the baby Ben and I wanted so badly. Ben cried when I told him the news. We’d started a nursery and told everyone we were expecting.

Why are these memories hitting right now? I’m supposed to be happy. The baby is developed enough that it’s safe for me to deliver.

“I’m scared. I’m scared something will be wrong with the baby and Ben won’t be here.” The words come spilling out of me and I finally make the connection about why I can’t stop crying and panicking. “I need Ben. I can’t do this without Ben.”

I’m blubbering, waiting for Erin to remind me again about breathing and relaxing, but it’s Mila who leans down close to me this time, and her tone is nowhere near as soothing as Erin’s.

“Listen to me, Stella. You’re a mother now. It’s the hardest, most rewarding role in all of humanity. You will never put yourself first again because your kids are part of your soul. And right now, you’re all this baby has. Ben’s not here. You’re it. And you’re a lot stronger than you think. Stop crying and get your fucking head on straight. You putting yourself into a panic is bad for your blood pressure, and that’s bad for your baby. You listen to Erin and do every fucking thing she tells you to do. She says breathe, you breathe. For your baby.”

I nod, immediately taking a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. The haze of panic is gone now. I’m grounded in what’s really happening. I’m in a great hospital, and Mila and Erin are here to help me. My doctor is on the way.

This isn’t what I planned, but Mila is right. This isn’t a time to fall apart. My baby needs me.