33. Cassidy

Sitting at my work bench, I carefully line up and punch holes into the last belt order from the ranch hands. There's still a saddle, chaps, and a purse for Cecily on the docket—but, thankfully, my customer base is essentially family with how they've welcomed me onto the ranch so quickly. They're understanding about a potentially long wait.

As unorganized as ever, Blair's been frantically preparing for her move next week. As a result, most of our calls lately have been like this one. Me working in the shed, and her packing boxes. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we just quietly work within camera frame.

It's during a quiet moment, shortly after a gripping conversation about the logistics of marrying somebody at first sight, that I get a painful cramping in my stomach. I shift side-to-side in my seat until it dissipates. A few minutes later, again. Then again. All through our debate about whether my best friend is packing correctly—she's not, which is why I should be there to help her. Until it's been an hour, and the agonizing feeling of a too-tight elastic band stretching across my stomach is evidently not stopping. In fact, it's getting worse.

"So, hey, Blair. I think I'm having contractions."

"You're what?" She wipes the back of her hand across her sweaty hairline, pushing the loose hair from her face.

"I'm…" The sentence pauses against my will. It takes every morsel of brain power to push through the discomfort. I bite my bottom lip until I taste iron as the pain radiates across my stomach and down through my groin. After a few seconds, I'm able to breathe again. "Yeah, I'm having contractions."

"Holy shit! How bad are they? How far apart? Is there pressure or only pain?" Blair's face is suddenly super close up, staring at me through the phone.

"They just feel like my period cramps—not that big of a deal. I don't know how far apart, but there's no pressure."

"Cass, you have PCOS and your regular period cramps would bring most women to their knees. You're not a good judge of pain. When did they start?"

"Oh, it's been happening all day. But pretty sporadic for most of the morning."

"Cassidy Bowman!" she shouts. "We've been on the phone for… one hour and twenty-four minutes, and you're just telling me this now?"

"I've had random little ones ever since we went to the hospital. I thought it was nothing." I set down the tools, feeling the sensation start to build in my stomach again. It comes on like a wave, slow and building until a thunderous crash of pain engulfs my entire midsection, before receding to nothingness.

"Cass." Blair's voice is quiet as I lick my lips and let out a long exhale on the come down. "I don't want to alarm you, but that was under two minutes. And lasted a full minute. I think you should track down Red and head to Sheridan."

I blink at her. She's right. She's definitely right. God, I wish she wasn't.

"Keep me on this phone until you find him, okay?"

"Okay," I mutter. The walk to the door feels like I'm wading through waist deep water. My head's spinning as I step out into the sunshine, letting the crisp February air rosy my cheeks. "I think he's at the barn."

Blair presses her fingers to her lips, waiting patiently as I shuffle down the dirt road. I don't make it far before the pain grips me. Nearly sending me crashing into the Earth as my knees buckle.

"Pressure," I blurt out when I'm able to, still fully consumed by the punishing cramp wrapped around my midsection. "So much pressure."

She only says one word, but the tone gives away how much trouble I'm in. "Fuck."

"What…" I struggle to breathe, clutching my hand to my chest. "What do I do?"

"We go find Red. Does it feel like you need to push?"

"Maybe." My voice takes on the same panicked tone as hers. "I I don't fucking know, Blair. But maybe."

Thankfully when I tug open the barn door, I nearly crash into Chase on his way out of the tack room.

"Hey, sweetheart. What's up?" He kisses my forehead. Noticing Blair, he twists so he can wave at her. "Hey, Blair."

"Hey long time no see—you need to get her somewhere warm and clean before your baby is literally born in a barn."

"What do you—" His question is cut off by my nails digging into the flesh of his bicep, fighting to keep myself from yelling. "Okay, let's get in the truck. The hospital bags are already in there."

"Don't think you have time for that," Blair yells through the phone. "Cass, you gotta try to breathe through it, okay?"

"No." I start to cry while the pain subsides. Gently taking the phone from my hand, Chase wipes my tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. Every ounce of blood has drained from his face, and he stares at me wide eyed as I ramble. "We need to make it to the hospital. I'll be fine until then. People always say your first baby takes forever to come."

"Yeah, well… not yours, honey."

Chase ushers me back outside and up the path toward our cabin. Stopping more than once so I can breathe through the pain and instinctively clench my thighs together to avoid the overwhelming pressure in my groin.

"I want to be able to get an epidural," I whine when the contraction ends, and they both sympathetically smile.

I can tell by the look in Chase's eyes that he's terrified, but everything else about him is so calm.

"What do I do?" he asks Blair, clutching my phone while I slip out of my sweater, suddenly overcome with the need to ditch some layers as sweat prickles my skin.

"Call an ambulance. Let me talk to Cassidy for a second."

Chase hands back my phone, watching me worriedly while he dials 911 on his cell.

"Cass. I wish I could be there right now. But you're strong and brave, and this is going to be a badass story. No original experiences—thousands of women have done this and so can you. Decide where you'll be comfortable. Floor? Bed? Bath?"

"Respectfully, fuck off. I don't give a shit whether other women have done this." Modern medicine exists for a reason, and I planned on taking advantage. I didn't plan for this. Not a single part of me thought a homebirth was appealing—in fact, I promptly shut Blair down with a string of expletives when she mentioned it as an option months ago. "Bath. Definitely bath." My hand's trembling so aggressively it's a struggle to keep my phone from crashing to the floor.

By the time Chase is done talking to dispatch, I'm naked and climbing into the empty bathtub, with Blair left sitting on the closed toilet lid.

"Jesus, sweetheart. Let me help you. Here." He grabs my elbow, lowering my shaky body down. Tears stream down my face, and he kneels next to the tub, turning on the tap and holding his hand under the running water to ensure the right temperature. "What do you need from me, Cass?"

"I don't… I don't know. I don't want to do this. It's not how it's supposed to be."

"I know. But Blair's right—you're strong. If anybody can do this, it's you."

"Yes, you can!" Blair's yell echoes through the small bathroom.

I want to tell them to shut up, but my brain is floating somewhere outside of my body. It feels as if I'm tumbling through ocean waves, unable to do anything except focus on getting a breath of air every time I briefly surface. I don't know if I'm not in pain or if I'm in so much pain my body has simply stopped registering it.