Searching For His Omega - Harper B. Cole Page 0,46

theater. With us. The baby and me.

“Please, I’m begging you,” Chet’s voice tore me apart.

“This is as far as you can go, sir. I’m sorry.” There was no time for goodbye. The blurred shape kissed my head, and I outstretched my hand until our fingertips brushed over one another, and he was gone.

The last words I heard before they wheeled me in was someone saying, “I’ll show you to the waiting room, sir.”

Lights. Voices. Unfamiliar sounds and smells. What I assumed were masked faces appeared over me, and I blinked. But I still couldn’t see properly. There was a gentle tugging on my arm, and a voice in my ear said I was going to fall asleep. “My baby,” were the last words I said as my eyes closed and everything went dark.

“Mr. Price. Mr. Price. Can you hear me?”

“Mmmm. Where’s… the baby? Baby. What… my baby?” My arms flailed, though I didn't have the energy to open my eyes.

“You have a beautiful perfect daughter.”

Thirty

Chet

I used to make fun of the “bad acting” when I saw people on television pacing in the hospital waiting rooms, yet here I was...pacing away. Things had gone so terribly wrong so quickly. He’d been fine. Not once had his blood pressure been an issue at any appointment, and then boom—he ended up here.

And then things were looking not good, but managable until they fucking weren’t, and now I was a useless alpha pacing the waiting room like a bad television drama waiting for news. No, not news. Good news. Amazing news. Anything less would crush me to oblivion.

A nurse did come out to try and give me some positivity, assuring me that the doctor on call was the best there was and that the anesthesiologist was amazing and that the NICU was there should our baby need it. I appreciated her attempt to comfort me, but once they mentioned NICU, my blood turned to ice. I needed our baby to be okay, and I knew from a co-worker the terrifying reality of the NICU and how not all babies came home.

Fifteen minutes. Thirty minutes. An hour. An hour and fifteen minutes. The time slowly marched on. Every time the door swung open, my breath hitched waiting for them to call my name. So far, they hadn’t.

“Did you want some coffee?” a nurse I hadn’t spoken to before asked from the nurses station, startling me.

“I think I’m jittery enough.” I wasn’t even joking, but she forced a chuckle. “How long do those take—the C-sections, I mean—when it is an emergency and they fly out of the room?”

“It all depends. The baby comes out fast in cases like that because of the anesthesiologist, but the rest still takes time. If there was a delay, someone would have come out to tell us by now. They are good like that.” I wasn’t sure I believed her, but it gave me something to hold onto.

Finally, an hour and a half later, someone came out to tell me that Stan was in recovery and our baby was perfect. Relief flooded me. They were okay. They were both okay. The nurse promised to come get me once I could see them and scampered off.

I was a dad.

My omega was safe.

My baby was perfect.

Everything was going to be all right...for real.

“Dad,” the nurse called out from the doorway. “They are ready for you now.”

I followed him down corridor after corridor until they brought me into a room no larger than many closets. Lying on the bed was Stan looking so completely wrong and broken, wires everywhere and an oxygen tube by his nose.

“Hey, love.” I stepped in close, not wanting to startle him. “The nurse said you did so good.”

“She’s perfect. The doctor said she was perfect.” I looked around the room.

“She’ll be down in a minute,” another nurse said as she tapped away on a tablet. “They are just cleaning her up. She wants to be pretty for her daddies.”

“You had me so scared.” I tentatively brushed his hand with mine, not wanting to hurt him but needing to feel his warmth.

“I had me so scared. I need to see her.” His voice was so hoarse.

“Can he have water or something?” I asked the nurse who was still tapping away.

“Ice chips, and yes, I will get some.” She walked out to get them and came back in almost instantly, only it wasn’t her, it was someone I didn’t recognize and our baby.

“That’s our baby.” My eyes were already blurry with