Page 67 of Forbidden Cowboy

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Page 67 of Forbidden Cowboy

I felt worry spiking through my heart, but I had to stay calm. Panic would only make everything worse.

I was met by a team of doctors and nurses and God knows who else. They took my blood pressure and my heart rate; they took notes and attached a band to me with a machine to measure the triplets’ heartbeats. I heard the asynchronous flutterings of their hearts beating, and something in me felt a little calmer. They were still there. They would be okay.

My phone rang.

“Beau,” I said, picking up the phone.

“Sierra!” He said, his voice worried. “Are you okay? Are the babies? Where’s Anna? What can I do?”

“Were you able to reach Wyatt?” I asked immediately.

“No, not yet, is someone going to get him?”

“One of the grooms, Joel, is riding out to find him, I was hoping he’d be back in service by now. You don’t have to come here, Beau. The triplets and I are just fine for right now.”

That was a little bit of a lie. Truthfully, I had no idea how we all were, but I couldn’t start thinking negatively, or I would spiral.

“That’s good. Do you promise to keep me updated?”

“Yes, Beau,” I said, “but don’t come here. You don’t need to be here. If anything… drastic happens, or I can’t call because of the drugs they put me on or whatever, I’ll get someone to call you.”

I didn’t want my brother showing up at the hospital. We had passed it in the car a few times since his discharge, and the dark look in his eyes suggested that if he never set foot in there again, it would be too soon. I would be fine. The babies would be fine.

The minute Wyatt showed up, it would all be fine.

* * *

I was always terrible at making predictions.

Not one, but two of the three amniotic sacs had burst, and my children had decided they wanted to enter the world. The cushy birthing pavilion Wyatt and I had planned on the delivery being in was a pipe dream, as was the doctor I had by my side for the last two months. She was with another delivery, and would be with me as soon as possible. But the minute the anaesthetist walked in with the obstetric surgeon, I knew ASAP was going to be too late.

I was crying when Anna let go of my hand. I didn’t tell her how scared I was, but she knew. She was the only one who was there, and as they wheeled me away, I was apologizing through my tears, telling her to stay in the room and be good.

I was draped so I couldn’t see what they were doing to me, and I had zero sensation from the waist down, except forcold. I felt unbelievably cold in that sterile operating room. There was an anaesthetist next to me, monitoring my vitals, and they had somehow also become my support person.

The people beyond the drape were talking, sometimes to me, but I felt so out of it and bewildered that I had no concept of what was happening.

“First baby,” the voice of the doctor I hadn’t met until an hour ago said.

I listened for that first, life-giving cry, but none came, and my heart stopped in my chest.

“Second baby,” came the voice once more, and still there was no cry, and no one was giving me my children.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, feeling a little wild. “Where are my babies?!”

I tried to look past the drape, but it was impossible. I thrashed as much as I could, trying to see, but to no avail. I turned my face, tear-stained and stricken, to the door, only to see the face of the man I loved looking at me with horror written on his features.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Wyatt

Everything had been a dream for months.

I’d had her by my side, and life was looking up. Anna was brighter, I was more motivated, and every day, Sierra grew with the life inside of her. Once we got over our initial reservations about how things would work, we had begun building a life for ourselves and our children. I suspected there was some tension between Eliana and Sierra, but I trusted Sierra to tell me if she needed my intervention. I wasn’t so foolish as to believe she needed me to save her.

I stood, admiring the fresh growth of grass on the fields, when I heard the pounding of hooves over dirt. I thought that Greg, for some odd reason, had decided to ride his horse, a gelding named Jackal, in circles, but when I turned fully and saw the dark coat of Melisandre barreling towards us, I immediately knew what was wrong.

Joel rode atop her, his floppy hair waving in the wind created from the speed they were travelling at, his face tense.




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