Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 137

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains depictions of pregnancy and childbirth, including labor pains, pushing, medical interventions (such as an epidural), bleeding, bodily fluids, and newborn care.

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BRAYDON’S POV

I’m a reasonably fit guy, but I’m fairly sure I can hear my finger bones grinding together.

“Get him out of me!!” Katy screams, her face a shade of purple I didn’t even know existed.” Get the goddamn baby out!”

“Y-You’re doing great, honey,” I squeak, trying to sound supportive while my own heart wants to jump out. “Just breathe. Remember the classes?”

She whips her head toward me, her eyes red and wild. “This is all your fault!” Even the nurses are trying to calm her. She winces through another contraction. “I can feel my soul leaving my body!”

“Baby… the nurse said the epidural takes a minute to-”

“It’s been forty minutes! I can feel everything!” She groans, tears streaming down her face. I want to tell her it’ll be over soon, but I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s feeling. And since I’m here to support her, I can’t admit I’m scared out of my mind and just want this to be over.

“Everything looks perfect,” one of the nurses says. “You’re at nine centimeters.”

“I don’t care about that!” Katy roars, collapsing back against the pillows, and gasping. Her eyes lock onto mine, wide and watery.

“Braydon?”

“Yeah, babe?” I panic.

“Tell the doctor to pull him out.”

“I… I don’t think it works like that,” I manage.

“Make it work!” she shrieks as another contraction hits and her grip tightens until I’m sure something in my hand finally gives.

“I can’t-” she chokes. “I can’t stop it. I need to push.”

The nurse is instantly at her side. “Don’t push yet, Katy. Just pant for me. Short breaths.”

“I can’t,” she sobs. “It’s happening anyway.”

The monitor spikes, and the room shifts from tense to urgent. Everything is happening so fast, and I have absolutely no control. I clamp my hands together, unsure if that even counts as help.

“Doctor’s on the way,” someone says. “Let’s check her.”

The nurse’s gloved hand disappears beneath the sheet and seconds stretch. I don’t know. what I’m supposed to do, so I settle for staying still, staying here and holding my ground is all I can do.

“Okay,” the nurse says, lifting her head. “Let’s do this.”

Katy lets out a broken laugh that sounds more like a cry and she looks at me like she’s drowning. “I can’t do this, Braydon.”

Something tight and hot twists in my chest. I want to lie, I want to promise I’ll make it stop but I can’t do either.

I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers. “You’re strong, baby. So strong. I’m right here, holding your hands. We’ll do this together.”

The doctor steps in, snapping on gloves. “Alright. With the next contraction, I want you to push.”

I brace myself beside her, heart hammering.

She stiffens again.

“Now,” one of the nurses says. “Deep breath, then push.”

Katy’s face crumples. She drags in a breath that sounds like it hurts, then bears down with everything she has. I slide my arm behind her shoulders, holding her up, and bracing her.

“That’s it,” I say, even though I have no idea if it is. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

She cries out, screaming something about burns, and the sound tears through me. I’ve never felt so useless in my life. I’d trade places with her in a second if it meant she wouldn’t be in pain.

“That’s the crowning, Katy,” the doctor announces. “The head is right there so don’t stop now. Give me everything.”

She collapses against me, gasping, her forehead slick with sweat, and lips trembling.

“Baby… stay with me,” I beg.

“I can’t,” she whimpers. “I…can’t.”

Another contraction builds and I feel it in the way her fingers dig into my arm, the way her breath stutters.

“Big one coming,” the nurse warns.

“He’s… ugly,” she whispers, bursting into fresh tears.

A few hours later, when I carefully place our newborn son in Braydon’s arms, it feels like the happiest day of my life, after months of waiting, and truly joyful days.

All right, so my pregnancy wasn’t exactly easy or joyful, if we’re being honest. I waited a full year after our wedding to learn everything I could: books, articles, care groups and even those ridiculous YouTube videos that promised to prepare you for everything. And yet, nothing, not a single thing, could have prepared me for what happened after I actually saw those two red lines.

The first trimester was filled with nausea, exhaustion, and the kind of hunger that only made me want to eat things I probably shouldn’t have. By the last trimester, I was on hospital bed rest, staring at the ceiling, and wondering how anyone survived eight months of this without losing their mind or their spouse. And honestly? I don’t know if it’s because our baby’s a boy, but there were moments I wanted to yank him out myself just to be done with the waiting.

Through it all, Braydon was… well, Braydon. The most supportive husband anyone could ask for, whenever he wasn’t traveling for a game. He endured my hourly tantrums, took my blame for putting a baby in me without ever rolling his eyes too hard, and never questioned my cravings-though he drew the line when I seriously considered tasting the soap. He was my anchor, my slightly terrified cheerleader, and I don’t know how I would have made it through without him.

Allie called me every day. She would be here if she wasn’t… filming in Italy, and I bet she’s crying because she missed this. Justin has been sending gifts every month since he found out I was pregnant, every single one carefully picked, as he liked to say, ‘from the best uncle.’ He even suggested we name him Justin Jnr.

The truth is, I don’t really mind how hard my pregnancy was now that he’s actually here. Our baby, Hudson Cooper Waylon, is still wrinkly, but he’s the cutest thing I’ve ever made. And my love, his father, is right here with him.

I smile at Braydon’s awe-filled, slightly terrified face as he holds our son.

“Need any help?” I ask.

“No,” he gulps. “I think.”

I bite back a chuckle because, honestly, it still feels fresh down there.

“Am I holding him right?” Braydon asks, trying to cradle him as he sits beside me.

“I guess,” I admit. “None of us exactly perfected the new and clueless parent handbook.”

He looks at me, his eyes wide. “I’m kinda nervous.”

“Of being a father?” I ask.

He nods. “What if I do something wrong?”

I lean forward and stroke our baby’s cheek with one hand. “I think you’ll be a great father, just like you’ve been a good husband.”

His eyes crinkle, and he places one hand on my thigh. “Thank you… for making me a father,” he whispers. “Thank you for making my life complete.”