My place was here, by his side.
I. Will. Not. Die.
Panting through yet another contraction, I tensed until the pain subsided and collapsed into an exhausted sleep in Galloway’s arms.
.............................
I woke to wetness and shooting sharp pain.
Galloway shifted behind me; his arms tightened around my shoulders where he’d kept me safe, lying on his chest with my hips between his legs. The fire flickered over us, showing my swollen belly and his mangled ankle disfigured from the crash.
The pain wrapped awful pincers around me, squeezing my uterus until I screamed.
Something wanted me to push.
I needed to push.
Push.
Push.
Push!
I screamed again, giving in to the urge but coming up against more agony than I’d ever felt before.
I can’t.
You have to.
I’m not ready.
You are.
I wasn’t aware as Galloway moved me to stand. I didn’t comprehend as I left the sandy beach and somehow ended tucked in a fetal position in his arms.
“Where—where are you taking me?” My voice was weak and wobbly. I was thirsty, so thirsty. I was hungry, so hungry.
Everything inside argued with itself. I was upside down and back to front. Too hot, too cold, tired, ready, sick, energized, dying, alive.
I don’t know what to do!
Push. Push. Push.
“Your water broke in your sleep. You need to push, Estelle. And I’m going to help any way I can.”
No, I don’t want to. I want to believe this isn’t happening.
“I want to go to sleep.”
“You can’t. Not until you’ve delivered.”
“How is carrying me going to help me do that?”
He didn’t reply, merely carted me down the beach and straight into the cooling sea. The hotness of my skin welcomed the salty freshness.
I sighed in relief.
Yes, that’s better.
I’ll just live here.
Forever.
He waded a little deeper until the water lapped his waist before reverently letting me go. The buoyancy of the water and weightlessness of no longer fighting such heaviness of my womb was sheer heaven.
The tide cradled me, swishing me back and forth as it lapped against the sand. My feet brushed the sandy bottom, but I made no effort to stand. Reclining, I tipped my head back, wallowing on the surface like a spread starfish while my belly reached for the waxy moon.
Galloway sank beside me, ducking under to slick back his long dark hair. He’d shaved with the Swiss Army knife a week ago, and his stubble matched that of a tortured alpha male with sexy, dangerous shadows.
“I don’t know if it’s safe being in here while giving birth.” I hated to suggest we should leave after finding some comfort, but the very real fear of sharks wouldn’t leave.
“I’ll watch over you.” He scanned the black horizon. In over a year on our island, we’d grown accustomed to seeing in the dark. Our eyesight hadn’t improved (Galloway’s most likely had deteriorated without his glasses) but somehow, we understood the world a little more not having electric light blinding us every time the sun set.
“Besides, we’ve never seen a shark in our reef before.” He grinned. “You’re safe.”
“Just because they haven’t been here before doesn’t mean they won’t co—” Another contraction cut me off mid-word. My teeth clacked together and my hands landed on my belly, doing my best to push internally and externally.
Heavy hands landed on mine, gently adding pressure to the struggling baby beneath my skin. I looked up, drowning in his elysian blue eyes.
I didn’t speak.
He didn’t speak.
But we agreed that he would help me, and together, we would survive this night.
Everything else faded as I turned inward to my task. I didn’t ask where Conner and Pippa were. I didn’t struggle when Galloway went behind me and supported my legs so I could squat on the sandy bottom. I didn’t cry out even as my body bellowed and fought against stretching wide enough to grant life.
Time lost all meaning and I focused everything on ridding whatever alien gave me so much pain.
I wanted to sleep in peace.
“You’re almost there. One more, Stel. Come on.”
My head lolled on his shoulder. Air was hard to come by, and I’d never ached so much in my entire life. The stars had gone, replaced with pink-silvery light of a new sun.
His bulk warmed my back, interposed with shots of cool seawater as he breathed. His hands rested on my belly, ready to help with the final push.
I wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t the most excruciating thing I’d ever endured.
I screamed so loud the sound wave skipped like a skipping stone over the glassy surface, ricocheting around our island.
That final push was hell and brimstone and the devil himself.
But the rush and relief afterward? That was the most euphoric sensation I’d ever had.
Galloway’s hands left my belly, dipping between my legs to catch our child.