Max stepped out of the hospital room into the cold, fluorescent hallway, his body trembling from the inside out. The echo of the monitors—soft beeping, rhythmic whooshes—still rang in his ears, tethered to every fear he wasn't ready to name.
He stared down at his phone, his fingers hovering numbly. Then he took a breath, leaned against the wall, and dialed.
His mother picked up on the second ring.
"Max?" Charlotte Knight sounded bright and expectant, probably thinking he was calling with some update about their return to L.A.
He couldn't get a word out.
"Max?"
He swallowed, his throat raw. "Mom—she's in the hospital."
A pause.
"Who? Mia?"
"She—she passed out," he managed. His voice cracked, low and shaking. "The stress—it just hit her. She's in labor. Thirty-two weeks. She's having the baby."
The line went dead silent except for his ragged breathing.
Then: "Oh, sweetheart," Charlotte whispered, her voice breaking with him. "Where are you?"
"Oklahoma City hospital. They're trying to stop the labor, but—God, I don't know—she looked so pale, Mom. I thought—" His voice finally cracked all the way, and the sob ripped through him, sudden and ugly. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, sliding down the wall into a crouch, his shoulders shaking.
He hadn't cried like this in years. Not since losing a teammate in college. Not since watching Mia almost break beneath the weight of Nate's shadow. But this felt like helplessness wrapped in fear, and it tore him open.
"We're coming," his mother said, firm now, her resolve kicking in. "I'm calling your father right now. Jeremy and Ashley, too. Don't you worry about anything else. We'll be there as soon as we can get on a flight."
"Please," Max choked. "I just—I can't do this alone. I can't lose them."
"You won't," Charlotte promised. "You won't. Just stay with her. We're on our way."
Max hung up, hands still shaking, and leaned back against the wall.
A moment later, he heard footsteps. Familiar boots.
Jessie, Mia's oldest brother, came down the hallway with a pair of coffee from a vending machine. His wife, Heather, was close behind him, her hand protectively resting on her hospital shoulder.
"You okay?" Jessie asked quietly.
Max tried to nod. Couldn't.
"I called Mark and April," he croaked. "They're coming. All of them."
Jessie handed him one of the coffees, then dropped beside him, knees cracking as he sat.
"You did well, Max," he said after a beat. "You got her here. You kept her safe."
"I don't feel like I did anything," Max whispered. "She shouldn't have had to carry all this."
Jessie's jaw tightened. "She's stronger than most. But no one's strong forever. And she shouldn't have had to prove it this way."
Heather knelt in front of Max and pressed a hand over his. "You're not alone, Max. None of you is. We're here. And we're staying."
Just then, Mark—Mia's other brother—came around the corner, April at his side, face pale but composed.
"They just took her in for another scan," Mark said, looking between them all. "They think the baby's coming tonight."
April knelt beside Heather, and the two women squeezed Max's hands together.
"It's early," April said softly, "but it's not too early. Thirty-two weeks—they've got NICUs. They've got care plans. They're ready for this."
Max nodded, feeling the storm inside him slowly ease into something steadier—still wild and terrifying, but held together by the warmth of family.
He looked up at Jessie, Mark, Heather, and April—all waiting, holding, and steady. Then he looked down the hallway, toward the room where Mia lay fighting to bring their child into the world.
And he felt a flicker of strength return for the first time in hours.
This wasn't just fear anymore. This was love—a battlefield of love, held together by the hands of everyone who refused to let them fall.
The waiting room was a blur of whispers and soft footfalls, punctuated only by the occasional distant beeping from the ICU wing. Max paced back and forth, rubbing his palms against his jeans, feeling the weight of everything pressing on him.
His phone had stopped buzzing hours ago. Jessie, Heather, Mark, and April were all there, their faces a mixture of concern and cautious optimism. But there was nothing to say now except wait.
After what felt like an eternity, a doctor in a white coat entered the room, her face unreadable. Max's heart skipped in his chest.
"You're with the O'Neil family?" she asked, her voice professional but soft.
Max stood up quickly, trying to steady his breath. "Yes. Mia's—Mia's my fiancée. How is she?"
The doctor nodded, motioning to a hallway behind her. "We can allow two visitors at a time, briefly. She needs to avoid getting overstimulated, so we should limit her contact. But you can see her. You're both family, correct?"
Max nodded, his throat tight. "Yes. Yes, we're family."
The doctor gestured for Mark and him to follow her, leading them down a sterile hall with faint fluorescent lighting. Each step felt like a countdown, and Max couldn't shake the thought that the next few minutes would change everything.
They reached a set of double doors. The doctor turned to them, her expression softening for just a moment.
"She's in labor, but we're monitoring closely. The baby isn't ready yet, but we're trying to buy some time. She's been through a lot. Just be gentle."
Max barely registered the words. His mind was already on Mia—on the woman who had carried so much alone, who had fought to keep their world together even when it seemed like everything was pulling apart.
The door opened.
Inside, the room was bright, clinical, and chaotic in its quiet way. Machines hummed around Mia, hooked up to monitors that tracked every beat of her heart and every contraction of her body. The steady beep of the fetal heart rate monitor was the only sound, a pulse that kept the air from stillness.
Mia's face was pale, her eyes closed, her body taut with the effort of each contraction. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her hair tangled and damp. She was clenching the sides of the bed, her knuckles white, the veins in her neck visible as she bit back a cry of pain.
Max's breath caught in his throat. The sight of her—so vulnerable, so strong—felt like a knife twisting in his chest. His stomach turned, an overwhelming mixture of love and helplessness flooding him.
Mark stepped forward first, his doctor's instincts kicking in. He reached out, his voice steady but filled with concern. "Mia? It's me, Mark. I'm here. We're all here, okay?"
Mia's eyes fluttered open, and when she saw her brother, her expression softened for the briefest moment. Then the pain hit again, and her face tightened, her breath shallow and rapid.
"Mark…" she gasped, voice strained. "Max… I didn't want this… I didn't want to bring her into the world like this."
Max's heart cracked, and he moved closer to the bed, his hand gripping hers, gently, carefully. He didn't know what to say. Nothing felt big enough to fix the moment. But he knew this: he wasn't leaving her side.
"You didn't do anything wrong," Max said, his voice hoarse, thick with emotion. "You did everything right. We're gonna get through this. You're so strong, Mia. You're so strong."
Mia's lips trembled as she tried to smile, but the pain stopped it. Her eyes slid to Mark, then Max, and she squeezed their hands. The monitors beeped faster, signaling another contraction.
"Stay with me," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please stay."
Mark stepped back to let Max take his place beside Mia. He reached for her other hand, threading their fingers together.
"I'm right here, Mia," Max said, his voice a quiet promise. "I'm not going anywhere."
Mia's breathing was labored now, a shallow rhythm coming in waves. The pain was unmistakable, each contraction pushing her closer to the edge of what her body could take.
The doctor's voice cut through the room. "We need to check her progress now. You're both allowed a few more minutes, but we must stay on top of this. Mia, how are you feeling?"
Mia closed her eyes for a moment, gathering strength, and then opened them, focusing on the two men beside her. "I'm scared," she whispered. "I don't know if I can do this."
Max's heart lurched. "You're already doing it," he said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the storm inside. "You've been doing it every day. This is just another step. We're doing this together, Mia."
Her eyes met his, a tear slipping down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb, whispering, "Together."
Mark stepped forward again, his hand on Mia's shoulder, speaking to her in a calm, clinical tone. "Mia, we'll take good care of you, okay? We'll manage the pain. We'll make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. But you've got this. I've never doubted you for a second."
Mia nodded, even as the next contraction gripped her body. She gasped, clutching Max's hand harder, her body shaking with the effort.
Max felt it, too—every tremor, every ounce of fear that swelled within him. He was trying to hold it together, trying to be her rock. But at this moment, it felt like the world's weight was in that room.
"You've got this, Mia," he repeated, his voice low but fierce. "I love you. We're gonna bring our baby into the world, okay? You're not alone."
Her grip tightened on his hand. And for a moment, as the machines beeped around them, as the world seemed to close in on them both, there was only one thing that mattered:
They were together.
And together, they would face whatever came next.
The room felt smaller with every passing minute, the walls closing in, but Mia's family filled it with something else—something more significant than the machines, the pain, and the worry. Their warm and steady presence was a silent reminder that Mia wasn't alone, no matter how isolating this moment felt.
Jessie, Heather, and April entered the room, their faces carrying that mix of concern and quiet determination, simultaneously breaking the hospital rule of two people. They had seen the fear in Max's eyes and heard the whispers of the doctors. But they knew better than anyone that the O'Neil family wasn't one to fall apart—not even now.
Jessie approached Mia's bed first, bending down to kiss her forehead. "How are you holding up, sis?" he asked, his voice tender despite the worry on his face.
Mia managed a small smile, though it faltered as another contraction hit. "I'm okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the steady hum of the machines. "Just… tired."
Heather and April moved to the foot of the bed, exchanging a look before Heather spoke. "Mia, we're gonna take care of everything for you. Don't even worry about the house or anything. We've got it covered."
Mia's eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion heavy on her. She nodded weakly, but April reached forward, taking her hand. "We're heading over to your house. We're packing a hospital bag for you and the baby. Max is going to need a few things, too."
Mia's eyes opened just enough to meet April's gaze, gratitude flickering across her face. "Thank you… for everything."
Heather continued, "And don't worry about the car seat. We saw the one you registered for, and it's already taken care of. We'll get it installed for you, too. We've got you, Mia. You don't have to think about a thing right now."
Mia's lips trembled as she nodded, the pressure of her situation still too much to bear. But hearing Heather's calm voice and feeling April's steadying grip brought a sense of relief. Her sisterhood—her family—wasn't going to let her fall.
Max stood by the lobby windows, his back turned, looking out over the parking lot as the sun began to set. He could hear the soft voices in the room, but they felt distant, like he was in a haze. The weight of Mia's condition and the looming uncertainty was crushing.
He hadn't realized his phone had buzzed until it rang again, startling him. He pulled it from his pocket and saw his brother Jeremy's name on the screen.
He answered quickly, stepping into the hallway, out of earshot of the women.
"Jeremy," Max said, his voice tight. "They're doing everything they can. She's still in labor, and she's—she's in pain, man. I'm scared. I don't know what's going to happen."
Jeremy's voice came through clear but soft, a note of concern threading through it. "We're boarding the jet now. We'll be there as soon as we can. You're not alone, Max. We've got you. You just hold on."
Max closed his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose as the wave of emotions finally broke through. He couldn't hold it together anymore. The tears came without warning, sliding down his cheeks, his chest tightening as the gravity of the situation overwhelmed him.
"I'm scared, Jeremy. I'm scared I'm going to lose her. And I'm scared I'm going to lose our baby girl."
Jeremy's voice softened, breaking through the distance that separated them. "Max, you won't lose them. You won't. You're strong. You've always been strong. But it's okay to be scared. We're all scared for Mia and the baby. But you have to stay strong for her. She needs you."
Max leaned against the wall, his breath shaky. "I don't know how to do this, Jer. I've never felt so out of control in my life. She's everything to me. And I can't lose her. I can't lose either of them."
Jeremy let a beat of silence pass, letting Max collect himself.
"Listen to me, Max. We're going to be there. Mia's a fighter, and you are too. And I know, deep down, that she's not giving up. But if you need to cry, you cry. You let it out. Because that's okay. You don't have to be perfect. You just have to be there. And you will be."
Max nodded, even though Jeremy couldn't see him. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, trying to steady himself. "Thanks, man. I just… I needed to hear that."
We'll get through this together. You're not alone."
Max swallowed hard, taking in a shaky breath. "Thanks, Jeremy. I—I don't know what I'd do without you."
"I've got you. Always."
Max ended the call, his hands trembling, but somehow, a tiny spark of clarity remained. His family was coming—his brother, his parents. They'd be there soon, and Mia wasn't alone. He wasn't alone.
He walked back into Mia's room, where the women were still gathered around, speaking softly and planning their next steps. They all paused as he entered, their faces showing the wear of worry but also a deep, unwavering resolve.
"You're not alone, Max," Heather said, stepping toward him and touching his shoulder. "We're all here. For both of you."
He nodded, feeling their support in every word. The room was filled with quiet understanding—a reminder that no matter how dark the road ahead, there was still light in the people who loved them.
And at that moment, even in the face of uncertainty, Max knew he would fight with every breath to hold onto Mia. To hold onto their baby girl. Because family—his family—was there. And that was enough.