Surviving His Scars (Angels Halo MC Next Gen 4)

“If we took a shot every time she said fuck, we’d be wasted in five minutes,” Maverick commented from the window where he’d parked himself the second Mila had been wheeled into the room.

She was a week late, which was amazing considering she was carrying two behemoth twin boys. I didn’t know how she was going to push out those babies without splitting herself in half, but she was going to give it her best try.

When Mila had called me that morning to tell me her water finally broke, I’d already been having contractions of my own. Not that I told her or anyone else that. It was just Braxton-Hicks. I’d been having them off and on for weeks now, and I thought today was no different.

But when we got to the hospital hours before, those random contractions had started becoming not so random. Now, I seemed to be having them about as often as Mila was.

Something I should probably alert my husband to. But he was out in the waiting room with the rest of the family—including Daddy, because he couldn’t handle seeing Mila in so much pain—and I wasn’t sure my legs would support me long enough to walk out there and inform Gian he was likely going to be a father sooner rather than later.

“There’s no shame in getting the epidural,” Mom tried to soothe. “And you’ll thank us all for talking you into it if you start to tear.”

“You’re not helping, Mother!” Mila snapped. “I don’t want the fucking epidural.”

“Okay, okay,” Layla, her mother-in-law, soothed, wiping my sister’s brow and feeding her a few ice chips. “Don’t get too excited, honey. That’s just the pain talking. As soon as this contraction is over, you’ll realize that.”

Not ten seconds later, Mila moaned in relief and then started crying. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I didn’t mean to yell.”

Mom hugged her. “I know, baby. I know. Shh, shh. Don’t cry.”

A strangled cry filled the room, but it wasn’t from Mila this time. I folded my arms around my middle and fought back a sob, no longer able to hide the fact that I was in agonizing pain.

Maverick, who was closest to me, lifted me into his arms and took off running. Outside the delivery room door, he started yelling at the nurses, and everyone moved quickly. It all went so fast, I doubted Mom even had time to react. All I knew was that the pain was more than faux contractions and these babies really were coming.

Because while Mila’s babies were in the perfect position to be born naturally, mine were stubborn little devils. Dr. Khan had cautioned us to schedule a C-section, and I’d finally given in. But that was days away.

A nurse instructed my brother to carry me into a room across the hall from Mila’s, and then Maverick was off running again. But I knew where he was going, so I tried to breathe through the long contraction.

I heard his feet stomping against the tiled floor as he ran, and then there he was. Wild, dark eyes met my tear-filled gray ones, and I saw him swallow hard.

“Don’t let them get the babies mixed up,” I pleaded.

“I doubt that would happen, precious,” he tried to reassure me as he crossed to the bed where the nurse was hooking me up to all the machines Mila was already hooked up to. “Our little angels are minus a few body parts that Mila’s sons will have.”

“But what if the ultrasounds were wrong? What if we’re having boys? Or what if Mila is actually having girls?” I knew I was sounding crazy, but it was my worst fear. That Mila and I would have our babies on the same day, in the same hospital, and then we would take the wrong babies home. I’d woken night after night in a cold sweat from the same nightmare for weeks now. “Please, G. Don’t let them get mixed up.”

He touched his lips to my brow. “I swear on my soul, I will not let them mix up our babies with your sister’s.”

With his promise, I was finally able to relax—as much as someone in labor could relax. Things moved quickly. Dr. Khan arrived, already in scrubs and ready to wheel me down to the OR to take the babies by C-section. Gian was given a pair of scrubs to change into, and my parents and brother came in to kiss me before I was wheeled out of the room.

“No fucking way is she having those babies without me seeing her first!” I heard Mila yelling.

Gian muttered a curse, but I told the nurse to take me to see my sister. We were both basically strapped to our beds due to all the monitors attached to us, but I was able to reach out and squeeze her hand.

“I love you,” I told her.

“I love you,” she said at the same time. “Be strong. I wish I could come with you.”

I grinned. “You seem a little busy at the moment.”

A tired laugh left her. “So it seems.” Gian made a noise, trying to get the nurses to take me away, but as he passed my sister’s bed, she grabbed his shirt and jerked him down to her eye level. “You better take care of her. If anything happens to my other half, I will slit your throat.”

“Mila,” I scolded.

“That is not the pain talking,” she growled at him. “That is me making a promise. Take care of her, Gian. Or I will be leaving this hospital with four babies instead of two.”

He unclenched her hands from the hold she had on his shirt and then kissed the top of her head, making my heart melt all over again for him. “I swear on everything I love, I will take care of her.”

Many hours later, I was still flying high on whatever painkillers the nurses kept putting in my IV. I was feeling zero pain, but I couldn’t hold either of my baby girls yet.