31. Cassidy

Thank you? What the hell is wrong with me?

He told me he loved me. Three words I've been struggling to hold in and, when it was finally the perfect time to say them, I didn't. Words have never been an issue for me. When a guy at the bar makes an inappropriate comment, I can turn it back around on him on a dime. But the man I love says he loves me for the first time, and my brain turns to oatmeal.

Pregnancy brain. It's gotta be.

We walked to the cabin in silence, with me holding tight to his arm and even tighter to my emotions. Knowing my tears would probably freeze before they had the chance to fall was the only thing keeping me from falling apart. Then he stoked the fire inside the log cabin and said he was heading out to grab more wood.

I stare at a pile of perfectly stacked firewood—more than enough for the night, I'm sure—and reach for my phone.

Cass: EMERGENCY. He told me he loves me and I said thank you.

Shelby: THANK YOU?!

Blair: Cackling. Maniacally. Thank YOU for this.

Cass: Very helpful, assholes

Blair:Okay, okay. What did he do when you THANKED HIM?

Shelby: Didn't you tell Derek you loved him after like 2 weeks? Why the fuck are you suddenly gun shy?

Blair: Because this time she means it. Also, she's a dumbass.

Cass: Rude.

Shelby: Doesn't deny it though

Blair: Quit talking to us and tell him how you feel

Shelby: Say it louder for the dumbass in the back

Blair: GO TELL HIM

Cass: Fuck both of you.

Snagging my thick puffer coat from the couch, I race out the door, careful not to slip down the icy front steps. The path to the woodshed isn't much better, and I hold my arms out to keep my balance.

Probably could've waited until he got back to the cabin, dumbass.

"Chase!" I skate toward him, unsure if the somersaults happening in my stomach are from the baby or my nerves. Hearing my voice, he drops the wood bundled in his arms and charges toward me.

"What's—are you okay?" He grips my forearms, searching my eyes to figure out why I'm out here. In the cold. In a dress. I'm sure the look on my face is conveying panic, too.

"I love you," I blurt out. "I don't know why I didn't say that earlier. Shit, why I didn't say it weeks ago, but I do… love you."

"And you had to race out here to tell me right this second?" He raises a brow—a smug smile popping up on his face. "Sweetheart, I already knew. You didn't need to chase me down when I was coming right back."

Fuck right off.I shake my head. "Bullshit. You're going to stand here and tell me you knew how I felt before I did?"

"After the rodeo you told me to ignore you like I usually do. But, Cass, I've never ignored you. Sure, we weren't exactly friends, and I didn't know you like I do now. But I didn't ignore you."

I pull my jacket tighter around me and stare at him without speaking. I'm entirely unsure of what point he's trying to make.

"You had a friendship bracelet business in elementary school, remember?"

I laugh, and steam from my breath clouds around us. "Until I got shut down for giving one to Sophie that said bitch. She was a bitch, though—still is."

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, and a smile extends well beyond his eyes. "She fucking deserved that, for sure. I convinced Grandpa Wells to pay me for doing extra farm chores so I could buy your bracelets. I was a goddamn eleven-year-old boy—I had no need for friendship bracelets, but I wanted an excuse to talk to you. This"—he holds his wrist up and twists the leather bracelet in the moonlight—"means the fucking world to me because of that. I think part of me was already in love with you back then, even though I didn't know what love meant. In high school, it didn't seem to matter to you that you were smarter and funnier and cooler than everybody else. You tutored for free, helped show new kids around the school, volunteered for all kinds of projects. I thought you were fucking incredible, and it was also very clear you were way out of my league. You were so nice to everybody, but you never looked my way."

My eyebrows scrunch together, and I open my mouth to protest, but he stops me with a smirk. "You know I'm right. I'm not trying to give you shit, Cass—I'm just saying, I've always paid attention to you. You didn't notice, because you didn't give a shit about me, and I don't blame you at all. I wasn't exactly doing anything to help my case, even though I've liked you for years. Maybe it was selfish of me to agree to hook up at the rodeo when you didn't know all of this, but how could I turn it down? My dream girl was finally giving me a shred of attention beyond the sassy comments I lived for every time I saw you. Then you told me you were pregnant, and it felt like I finally had my chance. I've been busting my ass ever since because I want you to see me."

He brushes a snowflake from my eyelashes. "So I had my suspicions. Because, despite all the bad—all the reasons why you shouldn't give me the time of day—you're here. Looking at me with these big, beautiful eyes and a smile I've never seen you give anyone else. That's more than I ever dreamed of having. I didn't ever need to hear you say the words."

"Thank you for being patient with me. I know I'm a mess and suck at telling you how I feel. I'm sorry. I wish I'd found you sooner. I wish I didn't fuck it all up when you said you wanted to be together."

"You didn't fuck anything up. We're here now." He kisses me deeply, with a hand holding tight on my jaw. My cheeks are damp, and I'm not sure if I'm crying or if the warmth between us is melting the falling snow.

"I love you, Cassidy." He whispers the words directly into my kiss-drunk mouth.

I shut my eyes, focusing only on the feel of his lips hovering over mine—not expecting or demanding a response, but patiently hoping. "I love you, Chase."

The kiss that follows has me turning into molten lava, hot and barely able to stop myself from becoming a puddle on the floor. I don't know if we're kissing for five minutes or five hours. My mouth feels bruised and I'm tingling from head to toe, but I can't let go—wouldn't want to if I could. But slowly he pulls back and nods toward the moonlit path.

"C'mon, sweetheart. I can't risk you getting frostbite or pneumonia. Let's continue this inside."

I nod, struggling to remain upright without his steady, thick body holding me. "Why did you leave me alone in the cabin?"

"Could tell you were nervous. Thought you needed a minute to panic alone, text Blair, figure out if you should admit to feeling the same, maybe consider running—I would have stopped you if you tried to leave, by the way."

He might know me better than I do.

"I didn't consider running, but I did the other three."

He laughs under his breath. "And what did Blair say?"

"She said I was a dumbass and I needed to talk to you."

"I always knew I liked her." He leans to pick up the blocks of wood scattered across the snow.

"Well, good. She's moving home in a couple weeks, so you'll be seeing a lot of her." Grabbing hold of his thick bicep, I walk beside him back up the dark path. "We might need a bigger couch to fit all three of us for our reality TV binges."

"No way. You're the only person on Earth allowed to know I watch that shit."

I scrunch my nose at him. "Too late. She knows you're a big sucker for dating shows. I think you might've watched enough seasons to officially be considered a superfan. Hope you know I'm buying you merch for your birthday." A brilliant idea flows into my brain, and I squeeze his arm tight. "Holy shit. I'm buying us matching T-shirts to wear while we watch the season finale. Why haven't I thought of this before?"

He laughs. "What part of not wanting people to know I've watched that stupid show makes you think I want a T-shirt?"

"Told you that you'd regret making me fall in love with you."

"I don't regret it for a single second, sweetheart. The T-shirt is living permanently at your house, though—can't risk any of the guys seeing."

"So you mean we can't take a cute couple photo for social media?" I tease, nudging my elbow into his ribs. "Kidding."

I'm not kidding. I'm taking a photo.

"Bullshit—you're not kidding. You're really putting in effort to make sure I have regrets, eh?"

"Doesn't matter. You're stuck with me." My free hand rubs over my stomach, and I've never had so few regrets in my life. Everything feels perfectly in place.

The room's still dark when I wake with a jolt. A painful, cramping sensation rocketing through my pelvis.

Maybe I just held my bladder for too long.

By the time I've pulled myself from the bed, it's gone. I shuffle to the bathroom, refusing to open my eyes more than a sliver so I don't fully wake up, then back to the bed, tucking a pillow under my stomach and throwing an arm over Chase's torso. Warmed by the wood heat, I'm in a half-asleep daze when the pressure forces my hands to my stomach.

What the fuck. What the fuck.

Before there's too much time to spiral, the discomfort dissipates. I lie perfectly still, taking controlled breaths and feeling my pulse bang against the palm spread across my stomach.

Rolling to my other side, I pick up my phone to check the time: 4:54 a.m. Chase's alarm will go off in six minutes. Then I can have him reassure me I'm being crazy. I'll take some painkillers or something. It'll be fine.

Sleeping is out of the question. Staring at the small digital numbers is the only thing I feel confident I can do to prevent myself from having a full panic attack. One minute until his alarm. Then he'll ease my…

Nope.I haven't had a baby and I should have taken Kate up on her offer to chat. Because this can't be. Can it? There's still a full month left. No. I'm making the executive decision. It's not happening. Simple as that.

"Wasn't expecting you to be awake." Turning off his phone alarm, he rolls over and kisses my shoulder.

"I'm just… really uncomfortable, for some reason. Like everything is super tight."

His lips leave my shoulder, concern washing over his sleepy face. "Should we go to the hospital?"

"I'm sure it's nothing. Probably from sleeping without the pregnancy pillow. Or I need to drink some water. Or it's contractions. Or it's from the sex last night. Or I don't know."

"Cass. You can't throw ‘or it's contractions' in there and breeze past it. Is that what's happening?"

"I mean… maybe. It is pretty consistent… But I've never done this. What the hell do I know?"

"Jesus. Why didn't you wake me up?" He tosses the covers off and scrambles out of bed, throwing his shirt and jeans on within seconds. Then he stares at me, like I'm the insane one for not trying to break a world record with how quickly I can haul my ass out of bed and get dressed. "Come on. It's a long fucking drive to the hospital. I'm not messing around here so we can end up having a baby—an early one—on the side of the highway."

"Okay," I say, exasperated. "You're right. Let's go. But if this is something super embarrassing, like I need to pop an antacid, you don't get to laugh at me."

"No laughing. Only celebratory French fries if that's what this turns out to be. Get dressed, I'll go start the truck so it can warm up." He slips out the door, leaving me to freak out.

My brain's foggy, but somehow I manage to get dressed and sit myself on the edge of the bed to wait for him. I've been so wrapped up in our relationship—or lack thereof—I forgot about all the parenting shit. I don't have a hospital bag. We haven't picked out a name. I haven't fully decided if I want an epidural—no, I absolutely do. We haven't talked about whether he's allowed anywhere near the foot of the bed during the birth. I don't know if I can do this.

"Hey." Chase is suddenly crouched in front of me with his hands on my knees. "It's all going to be good. The truck's warm, I have a bottle of water for you to drink, and we can stop at your place to grab whatever you need."

I lick my parched lips. "I don't have anything packed. I made the list but I haven't…"

"That's fine. I'll grab stuff. Come on," he says with a soft smile. Even softer voice. Taking my hands and pulling me to my feet.

"I couldn't bring myself to pack the bag… because it made me think about having to do this without you."

His lips graze across my knuckles. "Sweetheart, you got me. I'm here. You aren't doing this without me."

The drive into Wells Canyon is painfully slow, thanks to the actual pain in my stomach every five to six minutes and Chase driving at funeral procession speed.

"Sorry, but why are we moving slower than molasses? We'll be lucky to get to Sheridan by my actual due date at this rate." I place my trembling hand over his, which is resting comfortably on my thigh. Just the simple calming weight of his palm has me thanking whatever higher power is out there that I have him. I'd be in a full-on panic attack if I were alone.

"Because this road is bumpy as shit, and I don't need to jostle Little Spud right out."

"You know what's funny." I wedge my toes against the heat vent. "We've known she's a girl for months and haven't bothered to name her."

"You mean she can't be Little Spud forever?"

"Yeah and be bullied relentlessly."

His grip on my thigh tightens. "I'd love to see any kids fucking try."

"You can't beat up children." I give him a disapproving sideways glance. "Anyway, you're missing the point here. She needs a name."

"Rhett and Odessa can do it for me." His grip loosens, thumb slowly rubbing across the top of my thigh and sending warmth through my veins. "I assume you have a whole list of names. What do you like?"

I pull my phone from my pocket. "Thought you'd never ask." I tap away, pulling up the list I've been curating since I was approximately thirteen years old. "Ivy, Poppy, Hazel, Eloise, Noelle, Fiona, Ada—"

"Woah," he says, tapping his hand on my leg. "Slow down. How the hell am I supposed to even think if you—was one of those names Noelle? Like Christmas?" He raises an eyebrow but doesn't look at me, unwilling to take his eyes off the road for a single second.

"It's pretty," I protest. "Do you have anything better?"

"I honestly haven't thought about it much, so give me a second." The truck turns onto my street and pulls in front of my house with a lurch. He pops open his center console to grab my house key, and I can't help but notice multiple cans of Skoal chewing tobacco.

"I thought you quit chewing?"

"What?" He closes the console, giving me a confused look. "Nope, definitely didn't quit."

"I never see you with a dip in." To think of it, I don't remember seeing him with a tobacco-stuffed lip since that first night.

"Because you wouldn't kiss me with tobacco in my lip, and I wasn't about to risk losing an opportunity. Besides, I don't really feel the need to when I'm with you."

All that time he was waiting to kiss me, and I was too trapped in my head, stupidly ignoring the incredible thing right in front of me. All the little sacrifices and the caring gestures day after day—the way he was loving me better than anyone ever has.

"Oh, you have a big crush on me, eh?"

"You have no idea. Okay, what do you need inside?"

My packing list is longer than the baby names—and I rattle it off faster, too—but he seems to have no problem keeping track of it. Leaving the truck running and the heater blasting, he jogs up to the house. Listening to the idling diesel engine, I breathe through the uncomfortable thing that keeps happening—well, clearly they're contractions, no denying it now—and try to keep my mind off the thought that that's what they are because we aren't ready for this. She's not supposed to be ready yet, either.

Less than five minutes later, he's tossing the bags and carseat—which is still in the stupid box—into the back seat. "I grabbed everything you listed, plus the body wash you love and my hoodie you stole and the fuzzy blanket from the couch. Because hospitals are cold and you basically require a heat lamp on you at all times. And your names are beautiful, but we should wait until we see her to decide. I think we'll just know."

His hand immediately takes back its spot on my thigh, holding tight as he pulls onto the quiet street leading to the highway. Thankfully, now that we're on smooth pavement, he's getting the truck to go a little faster. Definitely not breaking any speed limits or performing any risky maneuvers, but there's a chance we'll get to the hospital in time.

"Thank you for being so amazing this morning." I bite my lip, blinking back tears. "What are we going to do if this is actually happening right now?"

His pinky finger loops around mine. Glancing over at me, he says, "Then we have a baby girl who's beautiful and strong, just like her mom. She's clearly ready to take the world by fucking storm, so I bet she's going to be a handful. But we'll figure it out—together." He pulls our hands to his mouth and presses a soft kiss on the back of mine. "You're going to be the best mom this little girl could ever hope for. And I'm going to do my best to be everything you two need me to be."

"I thought pregnancy was only supposed to make me sappy and emotional." Sniffling, I frantically wipe away the tears with my free hand. "Stop or I'm going to look even worse than I already do by the time we get there. All this crying."

"Sweetheart, you look like a dream."

"Stop," I jokingly whine, rolling my eyes with a smile. I went twenty-something years mostly ignoring him. Ruling him out. Wasting time with boys who wouldn't know which of the ten bottles of body wash in my shower is my favourite. Who looked at my body forty-pounds ago like it was something I should be ashamed of. Who didn't have the trauma that Chase has, but also didn't have his heart.

What an absolute miracle this baby is—in more ways than I can count.

Naturally, Chase couldn't be bothered to pay for parking, and I'm pretty certain we're parked in a reserved doctor's spot. But it was close to the main entrance and, while the contractions became much less consistent during the hour and a half drive, he insisted we didn't come here to fuck around.

Evidently, the medical staff disagree.

"It could be worse. We have a bed… and the privacy of a curtain." I watch him pace in the tiny space between the bedside and the off-white curtain. "Anyways, I'm fine. This is why I told you it was silly to text Dad and Blair. I bet the doctor comes in soon and sends us on our merry way."

"We've been here two hours with no answers. And it's been a full hour since anybody even checked on you."

"Because I'm fine." I gesture wildly toward the monitor—which is connected to a strap wrapped around my stomach—knowing neither of us have any idea what the lines on the chart mean. They mentioned the words dilated and early labour shortly after we got here, and Chase has been extra jittery ever since. "If I wasn't, they'd be in here. Why don't you go outside and cool your jets for a bit, okay? Get some air. Grab me a snack."

"I'm gonna have some words with somebody out there first." He narrows his eyes at the curtain edge.

"Hey," I say, grabbing his wrist to stop him from storming away. "No fighting any doctors, remember?"

He lets out a dramatic exhale. "Fine. I won't fight anybody—yet. If you need me, I have my phone, okay?"

Reaching up from where I'm sitting uncomfortably on the rigid hospital bed, I slide my fingers into his hair and pull him to me for a kiss. He tastes like peppermint, and his lips are soft and cool on mine. I can't help but get lost in him for a minute.

My hands fall to my sides with a thud and he straightens his back. "I'll be right back with snacks."

I slide further down under the scratchy, sterile blanket and close my eyes. With any luck, I can get a nap in while he's gone. Chase grabs his wallet and phone from next to my feet, giving my toes a quick squeeze through the sheet, and slips between the curtains.

His voice fills the otherwise disconcertingly quiet hospital wing. Not with an angry or irritated tone, but there's a definite rasp of concern that he's managed to hide from me all morning. "Hey, we've been here for the past hour, and my wife's been having…"

Whatever he says may as well be white noise with how easily my ears block it out after hearing the word wife. There's a knocking in my chest. An insistent smile quirking at my lips. A tremor that has nothing to do with my contractions. Perfect contentment washing over me, like the peace you feel the moment you're falling asleep. And then I do.