He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay composed. "Don't do that," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely steady. But she didn't even hear him. Her eyes were already half-closed, trusting him completely.
With a quiet sigh, he adjusted his grip and walked toward their bedroom. His long strides were careful but determined, and when the handle got in his way, he didn't bother with delicacy. He kicked the door open with one sharp movement. He hated handles.
He laid her gently on the bed, the soft sheets rustling beneath her weight. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her. Her face was pale, her brows drawn slightly together, her lips parted as she tried to breathe through the cramps.
His chest tightened as realization struck him.
He knew what was happening. His mother had made sure every man in the house understood at least the basics. She had once told him, "When a woman is in pain, that's when you see how much you care."
