He spread the shirt beneath her hips. It was the only clean thing they had, relatively speaking, and this baby needed clean. She felt the panic bubble over. “Hunter—”
“Beautiful and life altering,” he repeated. “You have to remember that. Be okay with it. Commit to it. Your baby deserves that.”
That was true.
So absolutely true.
“Now.” His eyes were dark, steadfast. “Let’s do this. Let’s have this baby. Your baby, Cece.”
The baby she hadn’t been sure she wanted until the day she’d felt something funny on her belly. Thinking a butterfly had landed on her or something, she’d looked down and seen nothing.
Because it had come from the inside. Her baby had kicked.
And from that day on, the baby had been hers, heart and soul.
She stared into Hunter’s face, suddenly no longer overwhelmed with horror and embarrassment about the position she was in, or the position he was in. Instead, she felt his hope grow within her and take root. “Ready,” she whispered.
His slow, warm smile was her reward. “Let’s do this, then. Let’s have this baby.”
JASON MANEUVERED the raft down the flooded streets of Santa Rey, toward Lizzy’s place. The going was tough, a virtual maze filled with death traps like garage doors, branches, lawn furniture and other debris moving along like bullets through the water.
He eyed the utter devastation all around them, the town so wrecked it’d lost its own sense of self, and felt the grimness settle in his gut.
He’d lost Matt on a day just like this.
And at the reminder, more than his gut hurt now. His damn soul hurt. How much suffering, how much destruction, he wondered, could a guy see and still remain attached? Emotionally involved?
Because he sure as hell hadn’t been emotionally involved when he’d gotten here.
Or attached.
To anything.
He looked at Lizzy and amended the thought—until her. Too bad she’d made it clear she didn’t plan on getting attached in return.
“I can’t believe it,” she murmured, looking shell-shocked as they floated along. “It’s like a bad dream.”
He didn’t answer, because to him, it was a bad dream coming back to life, and then she took his hand. “Hey. You okay?”
He looked down at the hand that covered his, then lifted his head to look into her eyes, and caught what was happening behind her.
They were coming up on a big intersection, the two raging rivers colliding with an awe-inspiring amount of power. As he knew all too well, hell hath no fury like the power of rushing water, and this particular fury was incredible. Right where the two streets converged lay a whirlpool.
A swirling, massive whirlpool.
His heart sank, his gut clenched, and in the blink of an eye he was back inside that boat, watching helplessly as Matt lost his life. “Lizzy,” he said hoarsely. “Get down—”
But it was too late. They flew into the vortex of the whirlpool and whipped around and flipped, and the next thing he knew the water was closing over his head. He pushed down, kicking to get under the water, not easy in a life vest, but he pushed hard to get to the place where he’d seen Lizzy go in.
He couldn’t find her. Even when his lungs threatened to burst, he stayed down, searching. Finally his body forced him to the surface, where he whipped his head right and left, desperately looking for her as he tumbled over and over.
His blood was pounding in his ears, roaring as loud as the water shoving him along at breakneck speeds. The raft was right in front of him.
But no Lizzy.
“Lizzy!” Gulping in more air, he dunked again, and by some miracle, caught sight of her about ten feet ahead of him, fighting like hell, just like she fought everything…life, love…and that’s when he knew she was the one for him, the only one.
14
NEVER IN LIZZY’S LIFE had she experienced anything like the river that shoved and pulled and slammed where it pleased, which pissed her off, and she fought the current like hell.
It didn’t help.
“Jason!” she yelled, or tried to, but the water swamped her mouth so she only got out the first syllable. She could see sky, and then the roof of a building she recognized, a light signal. Oh, hell, no way was she going to die like this. “Jason!”
But then she got rudely tumbled, and couldn’t see anything but the frothy, churning water as it tossed her about as if she’d landed in the spin cycle of a heavy-duty washing machine. Fighting for air, she tried yelling for Jason again but her mouth kept filling up with water. Gross, icky water. And the oddest things kept going through her head.
She hadn’t fed her goldfish that morning.