Page 60 of Angel
She exhales through clenched teeth. “Okay. So. Don’t panic.”
That’s never a good sign. “I’m panicking,” I tell her honestly, hands already on her hips, steadying her.
She rolls her eyes, actually rolls them, then winces, breath catching. Her hand tightens against her belly.
“I’m in labor,” she says.
The clubhouse explodes.
“WHAT?”
“NOW?”
“CALL DOC!”
“GET THE TRUCK!”
“NO, THE BIKE!”
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”
“WHO’S GOT A TOWEL?”
“WHY WOULD YOU NEED A TOWEL?”
Tank’s mouth falls open. “Wait like… real labor?”
Pandora smacks his arm. “Yes. Real. Not fake.”
Joker is already standing, voice sharp, barking orders. “Phones out. Doc…where the fuck is Doc? Someone call him. Angel”
“I’ve got her,” I cut in, voice steady even as my insides riot.
Stevie grips my arm, breath shaky but controlled. “We practiced this.”
“We did,” I say. She swallows, eyes pinched.
“And I’m not doing it in here,” she adds, glancing around at the men suddenly moving like headless chickens.
Tank lifts both hands. “I can clear a path!”
Pandora glares. “You will not run. You will walk like an adult.”
Tank mutters, “I am an adult.”
Pandora’s eyes narrow. “You fell.” That gets a laugh despite the tension.
Stevie huffs, then jerks as another contraction hits, fingers digging into my bicep.
“Okay,” she pants. “Okay. That one was… real.”
Everything inside me sharpens. The world snaps into focus like a switch got flipped. Doc appears like he teleported, shoving through bodies.
“How far apart?” he asks immediately, already looking at Stevie like she’s a patient and not the woman I’d burn the world down for.
Stevie closes her eyes, counts under her breath. “About… five minutes.”
Doc nods once, crisp. “Hospital. Now.”
