The Rocker Who Holds Her (The Rocker 5)

While we were still on the Gulf Coast, Emmie worked with a realtor via emails and online tours of some possible houses. By the time our vacation was over and we were making plans to head into the recording studio to work on some of the new material I had been slaving over, Emmie had found us a house—a huge six bedroom right on the beach in Malibu.

As big as the house was, Emmie needed help. I didn’t want her to have to worry about the house, business issues, and the baby all at once. That was how Layla came into our lives. That little hottie not only tied my best friend in all kinds of knots, but she did the one thing I was sure was impossible. She became Emmie’s best friend.

A miracle, right?

With Layla came two sisters that turned our lives upside down for entirely different reasons depending on whom you asked. Lucy captured my heart the first time I laid eyes on her. Sweet, imaginative, funny, and for me the little girl that Emmie should have gotten to be at that age. There wasn’t one of us that wasn’t caught in her spell, but that was okay. Lucy was special.

Then there was Lana. Beautiful. Feisty. Smarter than any one person had the right to be. Her biggest quality? She could make Drake laugh without even trying. My band brother was in deep within the first week of meeting Lana, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. That girl was just what he needed, but he fought it tooth and nail. Yet, at the same time he couldn’t go two hours without talking to her.

Our strange little family of five—six, if you included Axton, which Emmie made sure that we did—grew by three. Other than Drake drinking more heavily, life was good for us. The only thing I really had to worry about was Emmie’s C-section that the doctor said she had to have because the baby was too big for Emmie to have naturally.

The big day was creeping up on us fast. I had a week to finish up as much work in the studio as I possibly could before our baby girl joined us. So it was with complete reluctance that I climbed out of bed that morning and into the shower.

Downstairs Layla was already hard at work. It was hard for me not to hug her every time I saw her. Over the last few months she had taken such gentle care of Emmie, from taking her to the doctor when I wasn’t able to, to consoling her when no one else could. And of course there was the baby shower that she had given Emmie, which had brought my girl to tears. I loved Layla for that alone.

“Don’t let her overdo it,” I told her with a smile as I grabbed a mug and poured a cup of Jesse’s special blend of coffee.

Layla laughed, rolling her chocolate brown eyes at me. “Sure, I’ll try.”

I was rinsing my mug out when Jesse came into the kitchen with Drake and Shane. Jesse gave his girl a kiss goodbye and we were off to the studio for another day of recording. The morning went normally. Jesse was able to get the drums the exact way we wanted them on the second attempt, leaving me bewildered as always at how good he was. How could such a big man move so effortlessly when it came to playing the drums like that?

By lunch time I was starving, having skipped breakfast like I tended to do most mornings. Emmie’s craving for bacon was starting to make even me hate the smell of frying pig in the morning.

Shane was in the middle of cracking jokes when Jesse’s cell rang and then all hell broke loose.

Emmie’s water had broken and Layla was rushing her to the hospital. Out of all the planning the doctor had prepared us for, he hadn’t said anything about Emmie’s water breaking or her going into labor. That was why he had scheduled the C-section at thirty-eight weeks, instead of waiting for her to go full term.

I was shaking as Jesse pushed me into the back seat of a taxi. My heart was racing and I was sure that I was having something close to a panic attack. I couldn’t think about anything but Emmie and getting to her. She must be terrified.

When the doctor had first told her that she had to have the C-section she had lost it. Her fear alone had scared me. Layla had helped, and then the doctor had made sure that the rest of the guys and I knew exactly what was going to happen. I had been ready, at least that was what I had been telling myself about ten times a day for the last few weeks.

I wasn’t fucking ready. I was never going to be ready! Emmie was going to have major surgery, and even I knew that there could be any kind of unforeseen complication. My stomach twisted and turned and I was close to vomiting by the time the taxi reached the Women’s Center. The car hadn’t even completely stopped and I was opening the door, needing to get to Emmie now.

I saw a desk and stopped for directions, knowing that I couldn’t find her without help. But when I opened my mouth to talk, I started babbling like a stroke victim. Jesse saved my ass and asked the questions that I couldn’t.

The elevator ride was nerve-racking. I was sure I could have ran up the stairs faster than that damned thing moved. When we stepped off a nurse’s station stood in our way. Again, it was Jesse who did the talking. The lie that we had been telling everyone since the day Emmie’s mother died slipped from his lips and then someone was pointing the way to where I wanted to be the most.

I ran like my life depended on it, and in this case it did. Emmie was the only thing in the world that mattered. When I skidded to a halt in her room it was to find nurses and a doctor that I had never seen before rushing around, talking so fast that it made my head spin. My eyes went to Emmie and my heart actually stopped.

She looked so small in that big hospital bed—pale with tears running down her face. For the first time since Layla’s frantic phone call, I felt tears starting to burn my own eyes and I rushed toward her. Her arms were trembling as she wrapped them around my neck and I buried my face in her neck.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

“I hurt,” she told me in a shaky voice that wasn’t like my Emmie at all. “The contractions are coming faster.”

I gulped in a few deep breaths. I wanted to just lose it right then. Emmie was the strong one, not me. But I knew that this time I had to be her strength. I mentally started praying to every one of those damned gods that Emmie swore by. I begged for the safe delivery of my baby girl, for them to watch over and protect Em, and for the ability to help Emmie through this like I needed to. While I prayed mentally, I talked to Emmie trying to keep her calm. She was shaking badly and I wasn’t sure if it was because she was so scared, in so much pain, or a mixture of both.

Things were moving faster than I could possibly imagine and before I knew it a nurse was pushing me toward the bathroom with a pair of scrubs. I left Emmie with the guys, knowing that they would protect her with their lives in the few minutes it would take me to change.