I collapse back against the bed, gasping, my entire body trembling as relief crashes over me so hard it almost feels like another kind of pain. But then there’s that pressure again. Building.
“We’re not done,” Ronan says, already pulling me back in, his voice just as steady as before. “Stay with me.”
Right. Two more.
And Ronan’s still here, still in control, still the one guiding me through it like nothing else exists.
Like I matter.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the next contraction starts to build. This is his job. That’s all this is.
“Second baby is descending,” someone says, and the words hit me like a warning shot.
“Good,” Ronan replies, calm and certain like this is exactly what he expected.
There’s no reset. No recovery. Just more.
“I can’t catch my breath,” I whisper, my voice thin and unsteady. “Can you slow it down?—”
“I’m afraid not, and you wouldn’t want that anyway, I promise you,” Ronan says, already there again, already pulling me back into it. “Short breaths. Stay with me.”
Stay with me. Those words anchor me.
I open my eyes, and he’s exactly where I expect him to be—focused, composed, completely locked in. Not rushed. Not panicked. Just… certain.
Like he’s not going to let anything happen to me. To them.
Another contraction hits before I can finish the thought, ripping through me with a force that makes my back arch off the bed again. It’s sharper this time, more focused, like my body has figured out exactly what it’s doing and is no longer asking permission.
“Oh God?—”
“I know,” he says, steady and close. “Let it build. Don’t push yet.”
Don’t push.
I shake my head, tears slipping into my hair as the pressure climbs higher, tighter, unbearable. “I can’t wait?—”
“You can do this, Sage,” he says, not harsh, not even raised, but absolute. “Wait for it.”
I don’t know why I listen. I don’t know why, even now, even with everything in me screaming to just get it over with, I hold back.
But I do. Because he said to. Something in me still trusts him. I don’t get it.
Doesn’t matter now. The pressure peaks.
“Now.”
I push. It’s so much fucking worse this time.
There’s no easing into it, no adjustment. A scream rips out of me, louder, sharper, my hands scrambling for something to hold on to.
“Good,” Ronan says immediately. “That’s exactly it. Again.”
I shake my head, sobbing, my body trembling under the strain. “I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can,” he says, and this time there’s something under the words. Something firmer. “You’re doing it right now. You’ve got this.”
The next contraction crashes into me before I can argue, stacking on top of everything else until there’s no space left to think, no space left to feel anything but this.