Page 115 of Road to Absolution

Leaving the compound, I held my stomach and smiled. “I’m finally going to get to hold her.” I looked over to my driver, who wasn’t answering. “Rogue? You with me?”

From behind the steering wheel, crazed green eyes looked at me as he sniveled, “Yes… but I don’t want to be!”

Laughing hysterically, I suddenly felt wetness. “Oh no. I think more just came out.”

Rogue leaned away from me and screeched, “What?”

A stronger contraction had my full attention for a minute. Once it calmed, I said, “Hoo-wee! She’s getting angry in there. This may suck a bit.”

“Oh. My. God!”

I couldn’t stop laughing at Rogue as I looked at my phone, not expecting a call from Maverick, but to clock my contractions. I knew Mav was racing toward us from somewhere and wouldn’t waste time to pull over and call me. I also knew my contractions should be about seven minutes apart.

They weren’t.

Within two minutes, I was grabbing the dash as another contraction punched me. “Holy shit!”

Rogue, not quite as playful, asked, “You good?”

I was no longer laughing either. I was trying to breathe. “I think so, but these contractions are really picking up speed.” I gripped tighter as the pain intensified. “This is my first baby. Why’s it happening so fast?”

The engine roared as Rogue went heavier on the gas, getting closer to the bikes in front of us. They must have understood because they suddenly pulled away, giving Rogue room to accelerate even more. The bikes at our rear easily kept up.

Within another two minutes, wham! My stomach locked up. Searing pain stole my breath. It felt like every muscle in my stomach was violently twisting at the same time. “Sweet Jesus!”

“You’re scaring me.”

Holding my breath, I moaned in pain.

When the sharp discomfort gave a little, I said, “Me too. What route is Maverick taking?”

“This one.”

He wouldn’t have traveled far from me, so I knew that meant he would be catching up, not off ahead of us. I watched the side mirror, waiting for a sight I now needed. Come on, Maverick. Come on. I was starting to suspect this baby was in a serious hurry. If he didn’t make it to the hospital in time, he might miss her birth.

The upper part of the buckle caught me as I flew forward, crumbling in agony. “Oh, God.”

“Delilah, aren’t you supposed to be breathing or something?”

Am I not breathing?

I opened my eyes. Rogue was right, but as soon as I tried to breathe, I was suddenly gasping. “T-these are s-so intense.”

He got on his phone. When someone answered, Rogue was direct, wasting no time. “Art, no fucking joke. I think JB is about to break records and do this shit as soon as we get there.” Off the phone, he assured me, “They’re flying, girl. Boxer Boy won’t miss this.”

Over and over, the contractions came. My heart was thundering. All the woods around us, and not a car in sight, spoke of how far we still were from the hospital. We hadn’t even crossed city lines.

I stared at the side mirror’s reflection. Maverick. Please—

“Oh no,” I beared down. “Something’s wrong. It feels like I have to go potty.”

“Fuck, does that mean what I think it does?”

After another intense contraction that stole my breath, I gasped for air. “Rogue—” Desperate for relief, my left foot, of its own accord, lifted to the dash and pressed into it.

“What are you doing?”

I grunted in pain and with a desperate need to go to the bathroom. “I have no idea.”