Chapter 246: I’m Keeping Her Father Safe

From that day, or rather, following that terrifying incident, I was officially put on house arrest. Well, more like bed arrest.

I could at least be glad Reid didn’t stop me from taking my online lessons. But the moment he noticed I was getting even slightly overwhelmed, he would step in and gently close my laptop for me.

"How can you even concentrate on your own work when you’re paying so much attention to me?" I asked him one evening, watching him set aside his own laptop for the third time in an hour just to check my water glass.

Reid didn’t even look flustered as he carefully peeled a sweet apple into perfect, uniform slices.

"Because my priority isn’t the laptop, Cap," he murmured, his deep voice smooth and grounding in the quiet warmth of our room. "It’s you."

He set the knife down, picked up a slice, and fed it to me with meticulous care, his dark grey eyes tracking my every breath. Ever since Dr. Desmond had put his foot down, Reid had taken the phrase’strict bed rest’ as a high-stakes, full-time assignment.

Corporate meetings for McCoy Enterprises were shifted to brief video calls, legal documents were reviewed strictly while sitting right beside my mattress, and any time I so much as shifted my weight, his rich frozen pine scent flared out, thick and protective.

"I’m not overwhelmed," I protested softly, chewing the apple slice while leaning back against my mountain of pillows. "I’m just reviewing the draft for next week’s module. My brain needs something to do, Reid, or I’m going to lose my mind staring at these four walls."

"Your brain can rest," Reid said simply, leaning forward to gently place his broad palm over the heavy, prominent swell of my stomach. The moment his hand made contact, our daughter gave a firm, energetic kick right beneath his palm, making his lips twitch into a soft, devoted smile. "See? She agrees with me. You’ve been staring at that screen for two hours."

I let out a soft, breathy laugh, placing my hand over his. "She kicks because she hears your voice. You’re corrupting her against her other father."

"I’m keeping her father safe," Reid countered, shifting closer to press a lingering, warm kiss to the side of my neck, his thumb lightly tracing the line of my hip beneath the soft blankets. "You fought hard enough on the ice, Kain. Let me take the shift for once. If you want to study, read out loud to me. I’ll take the notes."

I looked into his grey eyes—steady, unwavering, and completely devoid of the panic that had consumed him weeks ago on the lawn. Seriously, how do I make him understand I’m fine?

I smiled despite myself, handing over the stylus. "Fine, do it your way," I said, leaning back against the pillows. "Slide two, bullet point three. Start typing, Mr. Dictation."

Reid grinned—that smug, devastatingly handsome smirk returning to his face—as he pulled my tablet onto his lap and opened a fresh document. "At your service, Cap."

The weeks slipped by in that quiet, fiercely protected cocoon. Reid was relentless. If I tried to reach for a glass of water, he was already pouring it. If I so much as shifted to adjust a pillow, he was leaning over to plump it before my back even left the mattress.

And as my due date drew closer, his protective instincts went from attentive to borderline absurd.

By the time week thirty-seven rolled around, the quiet in our suite was shattered by the sharp, undeniable twinges of early labor.

It started as a low, dull ache in my lower back around three in the morning. I tried to breathe through it quietly, not wanting to trigger a full-scale Alpha freakout, but the moment my breathing hitched, Reid’s eyes snapped open in the dark.

"Kain?" His voice was instantly clear, no trace of sleep in it. His hand was on my bump in half a second. "Contraction?"

"Just... a small one," I grunted, clutching his forearm as another tight squeeze gripped my stomach. "Don’t panic—"

He was out of bed before I could even finish the sentence. "Dr. Desmond! Dad!" he roared toward the hall, pulling on a sweatshirt in one fluid motion while rushing back to scoop me into his arms, like I weighed nothing.

"Reid, I can walk to the private bay—"

"You’re not walking anywhere," he rasped, his frozen pine scent flaring thick and protective around us as he carried me straight down the wing into the fully prepped delivery room.

What followed was twelve grueling, intense hours that blurred into a haze of pain, deep breaths, and Reid’s unyielding presence. He didn’t leave my side for a single second. He let me crush his hand until his knuckles turned white, whispering steady promises against my temple through every wave, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead, and anchoring me when the exhaustion threatened to drag me under.

When the final, agonizing push finally broke through the quiet of the room, a sharp, loud, healthy cry echoed off the walls.

The world stopped.

Dr. Desmond caught the tiny, squirming bundle, a warm, relieved smile breaking across his face. "She’s here. Perfect, healthy, and strong."

I collapsed back against the elevated headboard, panting heavily, tears blurring my vision as they placed our baby girl directly onto my chest. She was tiny, skin flushed pink, a soft tuft of blonde hair on her head, her quiet cries instantly settling the moment she felt my skin.

Beside me, Reid froze. The broad shoulders that had carried the weight of a hockey franchise and a media war shook visibly. Tears spilled over his eyes, unheeded, as he stared down at our daughter in absolute, breathless awe.

"Reid..." I whispered, my voice weak and raspy, reaching up to touch his face. "Look at her."

He dropped to his knees beside the bed, carefully sliding his massive, calloused hand around her tiny back, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. She instinctively reached out, her microscopic fingers curling tightly around his index finger.