Chaser (Dive Bar 3)

I held out my hand. "Give me the keys. I'll drive you."

"That's nice of you, but not necessary. You've been working all night; you're tired. Go to bed." She pressed the button, unlocking the doors. "I can drive myself."

"If you're in enough pain to need to go see a doctor, then you're in too much pain to drive. I'm taking you."

"Eric..."

"Remind me again how much experience you have driving in fresh snow?" I asked as the white stuff drifted down around us. If it wasn't for the stressful occasion, it probably would have looked pretty on the stray hairs spilling out from beneath Jean's hat. "Because you get this kind of weather all the time in Florida, right?"

"Ha-ha."

I just looked at her.

"I've got my bag of kitty litter and a little shovel in the back," she said. "I'll be fine."

"Eight months pregnant and you're going to push yourself out of a snow bank?" I started rubbing at my chest because no shit, the woman was giving me a heart attack. "Please let me take you, Jean. I'm not going to be able to sleep worrying about you otherwise."

She still hesitated.

"Please."

After a heavy sigh she handed over the keys. "I hate it when you're right."

"Really?" I frowned at her words. "When have I been right before?"

Busy climbing into the passenger seat, she didn't bother to answer. I carefully shut her door before heading over to the driver's side. Immediately, I got the seat warmers and heat going.

"Quick, say something terrible," she said, resting her head back against the seat. "I get weirded out when you act all nice."

I gave her a look out of the corner of my eye. "You really do look like you swallowed Saturn now."

"That'll do it," she said. "You sure you're not too tired to drive?"

"I'm fine."

Hell, seeing her out on the street, face lined with pain ... I couldn't be more awake. Jean might even be in labor. Just the thought of it fucking terrified me. I pulled out onto the road, driving slowly enough to put a grandmother to shame. Luckily, at that hour of the night, the streets were mostly empty.

Over on her side of the car, Jean twisted her fingers together, frowning hard.

I gave her hands a squeeze. "Try and relax."

"I've been trying to relax for hours. It's probably nothing, right?"

"Absolutely," I agreed. "Still weeks to go before you start looking like a planet-swallower. But it's smart of you to get checked out just in case."

Her frown didn't ease.

"Think they'll let us hear her heartbeat? That would be cool."

"Probably," she said. "You're going to stay?"

I shrugged. "If you don't mind. I mean, I don't have to come into your exam or anything. Don't mean to invade your privacy."

"I know."

"Though I guess I could just sort of slow down near the hospital doors while you jump out. That's another option," I said, anything to lighten the mood. "You'd be up for that, right?"

"Ha. I could just roll right in."

"That's the spirit."

Never in my life had I driven with such care. Talk about precious cargo on board and conditions being shit. The snow was getting heavier. And none of that nice, light, fluffy, pretty stuff anymore. This ice meant business. Thank God I hadn't left the bar any later and missed her setting off on her own. Fuck, just the thought ...

"She can't come yet," said Jean, stroking her stomach, looking far more relaxed. "Nell's my birthing buddy and she's sick."

"Is that the only problem? I can catch the baby, no worries."

"I'd like to see that." A bare hint of a smile graced her pretty face. There and gone as we passed beneath a streetlight. "You realize there's blood and gore involved. And a baby."

"I have nothing against babies."

Jean winced suddenly, breath catching in her throat. "Damn."

"Your back?"

"Yeah." She shifted in the seat, trying to get comfortable. "Heat packs only worked for a while, but I didn't want to take anything. It'll be nothing, though. Probably just a muscle acting up or something. No way is she coming yet. I mean, she's breech."

Breech position. I frowned, forcibly wrenching up the relevant information from the pregnancy book Joe had given me. The last time I tried this had been high school. "So she still has to turn around?" I asked. "Her head's facing up?"

Jean nodded. "I'm going to go talk to the specialist this week."

Jesus. "Okay. Well, we'll be there soon and the doctors will get you settled."

She gave a small nod while I silently throttled the steering wheel. Not going any faster because no way was I taking any chances. In the accident when Nell lost her baby, Joe said the car had come out of nowhere. No fucker was catching me unawares tonight. Still, it would be a hell of a relief to see her safely delivered to the hospital. Even in the dim light her face still looked pale and strained. Meanwhile, all of my bravado hid a churning stomach and dry mouth.

"You've got your bugout bag, right?" I asked.

"Bugout bag? You mean my stuff for the hospital?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. That."

"Having a baby is not the end of the world." Her brows tucked in. A hint of a smile remained, however, so I wasn't completely in the shit. "Eric, I'd imagine the supplies required to handle an apocalypse would be quite different."

"Not really," I said. "I mean, in both cases you're going to need underwear."

"How about maternity pads as opposed to matches?"

My smile was a flash of teeth, grabbing hold of anything to lighten the mood. "Sure. But I bet you've packed a nice warm blanket."

"A baby blanket."

"That'll do."

"I'd need to shrink by about half before it would do me any good. And I didn't pack--" Her words came to an abrupt halt as another grimace crossed her face.

Nearly there, dammit. "What didn't you pack?"

"A gun."

"That's easy," I said. "Just brain the zombies with a rattle or something."

"It's a zombie apocalypse now?"

"Is there any other?"

The sound she made might have been laughter if she hadn't been in so much pain. God, seeing her like that ... we might not have known each other for long, but it still sucked. Why couldn't men just have the babies? Surely that'd be easier than watching someone you cared about going through this shit.

And the silence only made it worse. "So you're going to name her Erica, right?"

"Dream on," said Jean.

"Eric-arella?"

Another of those shaky laughs.

"Eric-ina and that's my final offer."

She just looked at me.

"Oh come on," I said. "That's a nice name. It just rolls off the tongue."

"You're crazy," she said, breathing heavily.

The hospital sign lit up the night like a beacon. At last. I headed straight for Emergency, crawling around the ice-slick corner. As soon as the hand brake was on, I jumped out and ran around to the passenger side. She'd opened the door and begun the awkward process of climbing out.

"Easy." I took her elbow, holding her steady while she found her feet.

"You can't leave the car here. It's an ambulance spot."

"I'm not going to," I assured her. "Don't worry, Jean. You go in and start getting things moving and I'll go find a spot."

"Right."

"All good?"

Teeth sunk into her bottom lip, she nodded.

"Be right back. Two minutes tops."

With a hand braced on her lower back, she waddled a couple of steps toward the emergency department's sliding glass doors. Then stopped.

"Crap," she mumbled, looking down.

"What's wrong?" I rushed back over to her and followed the direction of her gaze. Liquid had started pooling around her feet. A cold wind froze me, inside and out. "Tell me you wet yourself."

"No, I ah ... that's not what happened."

"Fuck."

We rushed t

hrough the doors. Despite the circumstances, she was moving fine, but I kept one arm loose around her waist, just in case her legs gave way. Inside, a few people occupied chairs in the waiting area, the place largely deserted at this hour. Behind a big reception desk, some admin or nurses or whatever they were busily worked away on computers.

"Help," I yelled. "Her water's broke."

"Eric, calm down."

"I'm perfectly calm." I was not even remotely calm. "Somebody help!"

"She's coming early," said Jean, as if what was happening were finally hitting home. "Okay. No big deal."