SWNOVELS Pucking Sweet: Chapter 82
“Colton!” I cry, pounding my hands on the plexiglass.
He’s on his knees, one hand on his chest, shoulders slumping.
Lukas skates in fast, shouting a few questions. I can see his face as it goes white as a sheet. “Call 911,” he shouts, dropping to his knees to support Colton.
“Ohmy—Colton,” I cry again, racing down the wall of glass toward the door.
“Call fucking 911!” Lukas shouts again.
There’s a flurry of activity as the other volunteers spring into action, clearing the kids down to the other end of the ice, leaving Jake and Lukas with Colton. I grab for the handle, rattling it with a trembling hand as I try to get it open.
“Poppy!” Claribel comes up beside me. “Wait—”
“I have to get out there! I have to go to him—”
“The medics are already here,” she assures me. “We had them on staff for the event remember? Look, there they go.” She points out to the corner of the ice as our EMTs race out.
“It’s his heart,” I cry. “Oh god, he took that stick right to the chest!” As I watch, Lukas goes down with him, trying to control the speed of his fall as Colton slumps back onto the ice, his body limp.
I’m screaming, Claribel’s arms are around my shoulders, keeping me from going to him. Kids are crying, and the volunteers are trying to get them off the ice.
“Let me go—”
“No,” she growls, her hands tight on my shoulders. “I am not letting my nine-months pregnant boss out onto a sheet of ice to slip and fall in a race to do the job the paramedics are already doing. Now, come on.” She pulls on me, wrestling me farther down along the glass.
“Oh god, is he dead?” I sob. “Claribel, if he’s dead—”
“Hey—” She grabs me by the face, forcing me to look at her. “We’re not gonna do this, okay? We’re holding it together. We’re breathing, and we’re calming down. Breathe with me, boss.” She takes a deep breath in, pushing it out through her lips.
I try to copy her, but I just suck in the breath, choking on it as a spasm pierces my side like a lance. “Ahh—” I bend, grabbing my side, pressing against the pain.
Claribel leans away. “Oh shit—are you seriously going into fucking labor right now?”
“No, it’s too soon,” I cry, heart racing. “I still have three more weeks—ahh—” Another sharp pain has me wincing.
“Fuck, you are. Come on.” She pulls on me again.
“No, it’s probably just Braxton-Hicks. I’m fine. Just let me go check on Colton.” I look back out to the ice. They have him on a stretcher, an oxygen mask over his face. Lukas is holding his hand, saying words I can’t hear.
“Poppy, please,” Claribel urges. One arm is around my shoulder and the other grips tight to my hand. “Do you really wanna have this baby right here on the bleachers?”
That image penetrates my fog of panic and now my feet are moving. She leads me down to the corner of the ice as pressure pushes in at all sides of my abdomen.
“Oh god, I think this is a contraction,” I cry.
“I know,” she says. “Trust me, I come from a big Catholic family. I’m one of eight kids.”
“Wow, eight is a lot,” I say on a breath, delirious as she takes me to where they’re wheeling Colton off the ice.
Lukas is already on a bench, furiously untying his skates, kicking them off. He follows after the stretcher in socked feet.
“Lukas!”
Hearing me, he turns, his face stricken. He takes in my posture, both my hands gripping to my belly, and races to my side. “Poppy—oh shit, are you—”
“Is he alive?”
He nods. “Yeah. he’s alive. He says he’s having dysrhythmias. Poppy, I think he might—”
“Don’t say it.” Another contraction hits and I cry out, doubling over.
“Oh—fuck,” Lukas shouts, panicking as he looks from me to where they’re loading Colton into an ambulance.
“Go with him,” I say, panting through the pain. “Lukas, you have to go.”
“But you’re having our goddamn baby!”
I just shake my head. “If something happens to him, and one of us isn’t there—”
“If something happens to you, he’ll wish he was fucking dead either way. So, you tell me what I’m supposed to do!”
“I’ve got her,” Claribel assures him. “I have Poppy. Lukas, you go with Colton. Go. She’ll be fine.”
I nod, squeezing his hand. “Go, baby. Please.”
With a groan, he kisses my hand and races off in his socked feet, hopping into the back of the ambulance just before they close the doors. The ambulance takes off, lights and sirens on, and I’m left standing by this hockey rink wearing a pair of wet pants.
I let out a shaky breath. “Claribel?”
“Yeah?”
“I think my water just broke.”
Her arm tightens around my shoulders. “Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital. We’ll follow right behind them, okay? It’s fine,” she assures me. “This is all gonna be fine.”