I am so ready to have this baby—I am nine months pregnant and huge. It looks like I could be carrying multiple babies. Of course Wilder’s son would be freakishly large, and that is just my luck, it seems. Waddling has become my new walk.

Travis has been MIA here lately, and I bet my left tit that he has found someone.

“How is my baby?” Wilder touches my stomach, and I close my eyes. I am lying on the couch, on my back. Sleep has become nonexistent, and right now I just hurt. My back aches, along with other places I don’t want to mention.

The front door slams open, and Travis strolls into the house like he owns the place—as much as he’s hung out here, he might as well move in.

I stand up. “So who is she?”

“What?” he stammers and I laugh, my stomach shaking.

“Stop that—it may fall out.” Travis touches my stomach, which causes me to laugh harder. “Stop it.” He says again, which causes Wilder to laugh, and I laugh harder.

Then I feel a pop and a slow trickle of something going down my leg. I stop laughing and look down.

“My water broke.”

Travis looks at my legs in pure horror, like the baby is just going to fall out.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” Wilder jumps off the couch and runs upstairs. Travis is pale and looks like he is about to pass out.

“Maybe you should sit down.” Travis gently pushes me toward the couch. “WAIT, you might sit on his head.” I can see the pure panic on his face.

“Travis, get me some clothes to change into?”

He nods and sprints up the stairs. Then the contraction hits me and I bend over, clutching the arm of a chair.

“Ow!” I say.

“Ow?” Wilder shouts. He runs back down the stairs without bags, but Travis has a bunch of clothes in his arms. “What do you want?” I motion to a pair of Wilder’s sweatpants and waddle to the bathroom. Wilder comes in behind me and helps me get changed.

“Ow!” I moan, another contraction hitting me. I think I have had some pains all day because I have been extremely uncomfortable.

“We need to get you to the hospital.” He wraps his arm around me, pulling me out of the bathroom. “Travis, get the truck!” Travis slams the door as he runs out of the house.

These men can face anything, but both of them are half panicked. Travis is even more freaked out than Wilder, whose child is about to be born.

Wilder gets our bags off the couch. We may have overpacked, but how are we supposed to know what we may need? I told Wilder he could go home and get whatever he needs, but he said he is not leaving me the hospital until I leave with him.

Travis walks back into the house. “Come on before he falls out.” He rushes out, still pale.

I shuffle over to the door. “He is not just going to fall out.” I walk to the truck, which Travis parked by the stairs, and get in, holding my stomach. Hopefully, in the next few hours he will be out.

* * *

Did I say a few hours? Oh boy, I was wrong. It’s been twelve hours at this point, and I am exhausted.

To those people who act like it’s easy, it’s not—and I have not gotten to the pushing part. Another contraction hits, and I grip the rails of the bed, biting the pillow. Wilder smooths my hair away from my face. “It will be over soon, sweet girl.” I nod through the pain.

Throughout the day my room has been visited by every single member of the MC. The ones that have been constant are Wilder, Darla, and my dad.

The contraction ends, and I let out a deep breath. I hate hospitals because of how cold they are. I shiver, and Wilder digs out the blanket that I brought from home and covers me up.

Another contraction happens a few minutes later; then I get the sudden urge to push. “Wilder get the nurse, I think I need to push,” I manage to get out, my whole body shaking.

He runs out of the room and comes back with a nurse, and Walker comes to stand beside me. The nurse lifts my gown and checks me. I try not to cringe—I am not used to people looking at me down there, which I am going to have to get over considering my doctor and a crap ton of nurses will be getting an eyeful.

“You are fully dilated.”

All I can fucking say is that I don’t want any more kids if this is what she has to go through every single time.

She pulls a bow out of her hair and hands it to me, and she lies down. She is exhausted. I can see it all over her face. She has tried to get some sleep, but the contractions and people walking into the room kept waking her.

“Push when you have your next contraction,” the doctor tells her.

She lets out a deep breath. “Fuck.” She groans. I grab her leg, and my mother has the other. Walker is behind the bed, by her head.

“Push…push,” the doctor says.

Joslyn grabs her calves, screaming.

Never having another fucking kid.

“Very good!” the doctor says, but I don’t like this shit one fucking bit. She falls back against the bed, her arm thrown across her face. She reaches for me. “Put my hair up for me?” I lean down, kissing her, hating the way her body is shaking because of the pain.

She touches my face. “I am okay, Baby.” I kiss her palm, and her face twists once more. She sits up, I support her back, and she pushes again, screaming.

* * *

A fucking hour later, the doctor says, “One more push.” Tears are just falling on Joslyn’s face, crushing me into a million fucking pieces.

“Baby, no more after this.” I wipe her face free of tears, which should not have fallen in the first place.

She glares at me. “Yes, we are having more! At least three more.” She looks at the doctor, determined.

“You ready to push again?” the doctor asks, grinning

She nods, pushing again.

“He is almost out! Push!” the doctor says loudly.

Joslyn screams and screams, pushing with everything she has, and falls back against the bed—then I hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

I look over to see my son, and the nurse puts the baby on her stomach. Joslyn sobs, touching his little hand.

My son.

It hits like a fucking ton of bricks: he is here. He is screaming at the top of his lungs. My legs give out and I fall into a chair. “You want to cut the cord?”

Finally! With shaky hands, Wilder cuts the cord. He almost fell on his butt the moment he saw his son.

Our son.

The nurse takes him away, to bathe him or whatever they do. “Follow him,” I tell Wilder and he hurries across the room. Darla kisses my cheek. “You did so good, Joslyn.” Her tears fall against my cheek.

“Thank you,” I whisper. I am so tired.

Walker, who has been standing at the head of the bed, takes Wilder’s place. He kisses my forehead. “I am so proud of you, baby girl.”

I touch the back of his neck. “Thanks, Daddy.”

My son is across the room, still screaming at the top of his lungs. “Did you pick out a name?” the nurse asks.

I smile. “Mason Elijah Bennett.”

She gasps. “I love it!”

* * *

A couple hours later, as the bustle in the room settles down, Wilder walks over carrying our son. I wince as I push myself to a sitting position.

Wilder sits down on the edge of the bed, holding Mason. Right now, holding our baby, he has never looked hotter. I can almost hear women’s ovaries exploding around the world; I have none left.

“Here, sweet girl.” He lays Mason gently in my arms. The nurse comes over with a bottle.

My milk just never came in and we have tried for hours. I wanted to breastfeed more than anything, but it just never happened for me. Some women can’t produce. I am one of those women, sadly.

Wilder hands me the bottle and I take it. “How much did he weight?”

“Eight pounds, five ounces.”

Bless my heart is all I can say to that. I felt all eight pounds of him.

I now know what love at first sight feels like—this little baby has stolen my heart. This kind of love is pure and unending.

I touch his little cheek, and his little fingers twitch. “He is so beautiful,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss his little forehead, smelling his sweet baby smell.

Wilder puts his forehead against mine, and we look down at our son. I press the bottle against his lips, and he immediately latches on.

“One baby down, three more to go,” I tell Wilder, who laughs, along with my dad and Darla. I can tell Darla is absolutely dying to hold Mason.

He is the most beautiful baby in the whole world. I am not saying that because I am biased—though I am—he truly is gorgeous. I can see a lot of Wilder’s features.

“I love you,” I whisper to him.

“I love you too, sweet girl. I am so proud of you.”

Once I am done feeding and burping Mason, I him over to Darla, who is about to burst at the seams.

“Sleep, Baby. I will be watching over him.” He knows my fear. I honestly don’t want Mason to go to the nursery because I am afraid of the cartel.

He adjusts the bed so it is lying back and pulls the blanket up. I need sleep so much. Having a baby is no joke, but this is something I would never, ever change. I would go through this every day of my life as long as I have my baby.