Page 145 of Promised to the Cowboy

“Gabe.”

I look at her. Sweat dampens the curls around her face. Her hair came loose hours ago. She is exhausted, furious, and more beautiful than anything I have ever seen.

“You’re doing great,” I tell her.

“You’re staring at the monitor.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

The nurse glances at the sensor clipped to my finger. Apparently, sometime in the last hour, somebody decided the man with the damaged heart also required supervision.

Evie notices the nurse looking.

“He does that,” she says through clenched teeth. “Panics quietly and calls it helping.”

“I am helping.”

“You’ve asked the doctor four times whether everything is normal.”

“It seemed like a reasonable question.”

“The fourth time?”

“I wanted to make sure the answer hadn’t changed.”

A contraction hits her, and her fingers crush mine. I lean closer, letting her pull as hard as she needs.

“That’s it,” the doctor says. “Breathe through it.”

Evie gives her a look that suggests breathing is currently low on her list of priorities.

“I hate everybody,” she says.

I nod. “Fair.”

“Especially you. This is your fault.”

I bite back a smile. “Mostly.”

Her eyes narrow. “Entirely.”

“Entirely,” I agree.

The contraction eases, and Evie falls back against the pillows.

I wipe her forehead with the cool cloth the nurse handed me twenty minutes ago, trying not to remember that my mother died when I was born. The weight of it has been sitting with me since we arrived.

Dad went silent when the nurse wheeled Evie to the delivery suite earlier. He caught my shoulder and held on longer than necessary.

I know this is different. Different hospital. Different woman. Different story.

But knowing doesn’t stop the fear.

Evie opens her eyes. “Come here.”

“I’m right here.”