Then the next contraction came, and it hit them both.
Shock coursed through him as he felt the echo of her pain grip his own lower body. It was hard and long, nearly a full minute, sharper and deeper than any before.
When it finally ended, Belle gasped for air, then whispered, "Wash your hands again, Rohan. And trim your nails."
Trim his nails?
This time, he didn't ask why.
He was afraid he already knew.
In case things went wrong, and he had to reach inside.
He hadn't worn his gloves ever since they had arrived here, and he looked at his hands before he began to scrub his knuckles until they paled, and snipped his dark, already trimmed nails to the very end with the sterilized scissors, fighting down panic.
Done with that task, he moved to the side of the bed and sat on the hard wooden chair.
