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  Surprise Delivery

  Hearts and Health: Book 5

  Copyright 2018 DJ Jamison

  Published by DJ Jamison at KDP

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  Cover design by Lucas Soltow

  KDP Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return Amazon.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content suitable for mature readers.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Thank You for reading

  About the Author

  Other Books

  Author’s Note

  This book can be read as a standalone. If you are reading the entire Hearts and Health series, however, please be aware that Surprise Delivery takes place immediately after Urgent Care. The fourth book in the series, Room for Recovery, jumped ahead four years so that Wade and Beau would be adults, so it’s out of time with the rest of the books. As always, I hope you enjoy the journey. Thank you for reading.

  Chapter One

  “I’m pregnant.”

  As a gay man of forty-six years, Dr. Eric Holtz had never expected to open his door to a teenage girl with tears in her eyes and this dire pronouncement on her tongue.

  “Well, that’s … big news.”

  As the black sheep of the family — a man who dared to be gay and not hide it — he also had never expected his sister’s daughter to come to him when she needed help. Of course, he was a doctor. Perhaps she thought he had professional insight to contribute.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said.

  Uh-oh. Here come the waterworks.

  Olivia surprised him. She blinked her tears back and squared her shoulders. Only her voice, trembling slightly, gave away her emotional turmoil.

  “Mom and Dad are furious. There was talk of sending me off to Aunt Polly’s in New Hampshire like it’s the Fifties and we have to hide my ‘sin.’” She made air quotes for the word sin, her voice bitter. “I don’t want to go, but I don’t know how to stay either, if they won’t let me.”

  He stepped back and opened the door. “I think you better come in. We can talk about your options.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But just so you know, I’m not that kind of doctor.”

  She blinked at him. “What kind?”

  “Uh, the kind that deals with pregnancy,” he said diplomatically.

  It was true. He didn’t practice medicine much at all these days. As the medical director at Ashe Medical Center, he spent his days buried in red tape and supervisory decisions. With the closure of their temporary urgent care clinic, there was more paperwork than ever to be done. Between the opening and closing just one year apart, it seemed as if they’d spent more time on hiring and termination paperwork and other administrative tasks than they had on treating patients.

  Such was the life of an administrator. He still questioned why he’d taken on the insanity of moving into the position seven years ago.

  Eric led Olivia through a tiled foyer and into a great room with vaulted ceilings and a wall of windows where sunlight poured in. The room was decorated in a Southwestern theme, using a lot of greens, browns, and reds. A five-foot-wide painting of a desert landscape dotted with cacti graced the wall over the fireplace, and a large brown leather sectional with red throw pillows dominated the center of the spacious room.

  The entire home was immaculately decorated, with each piece of décor building on the overall theme of the room, but Eric couldn’t take credit for it. It was all Perry. He and Eric had lived together for nearly fifteen years. Perry’s touch showed in nearly every facet of Eric’s life, but especially in this house that his ex-husband had decorated so lovingly before he’d realized he wanted more from his life than Eric could offer. All the details in the house served to remind Eric that Perry had plenty of time on his hands while Eric worked all hours at the hospital. Was each furniture piece selected while Perry wished Eric was there to choose it with him? Possibly. Eric had come to terms with the fact that he was a workaholic and that his work had cost him the only man he’d loved.

  Somewhere around the second year after Perry left him for another man, Eric had also come to the realization that if he hadn’t been motivated to spend more time at home, maybe there had been other problems with their relationship. Still, it would have been nice if Perry had left before he screwed a bunch of frogs to find his next Prince Charming.

  “Nice house,” Olivia said.

  “Thank you,” Eric said, because he didn’t care to explain that he had little to do with his nice house other than footing the bill. He barely lived in it. “Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

  Olivia perched on the edge of the chaise lounge end of the sectional. “I’m fine.”

  He took a seat on the other end of the sectional, sensing she might want some space for this talk. A large flat-screen television hung on one wall, paused on a news channel he’d had playing to add some sound to the place. A political candidate and a lobbyist were frozen mid-shout.

  “I doubt you’re fine, if what you say about your parents is true. They’re not willing to help you with your decision?”

  “Making the decision isn’t the problem. I’ve considered my options, and I want to keep the baby.”

  “I’d think your parents would be happy with that decision.”

  Eric’s sister Laura had held firm with the conservative values of their family, staying with the church they’d been raised in even after the pastors there told Eric he would go to hell for being gay. Eric knew not all churches took this hardline approach. He’d heard about more liberal congregations, but he’d lost all faith in organized religion a long time ago. People were welcome to their faiths, but he had no interest in the self-harm his parents’ church had inflicted on him.

  His coming out had gone spectacularly badly. He’d heard some horror stories of parents immediately disowning their children, but frankly, he thought that might be a better option than what his parents had done.

  First, they’d called him a disgusting sinner. They threw a Bible at him while railing about all the ways he’d brought shame to the family. But the worst part was that they then dragged him to the church, where the pastor had preached at him,
prayed over him, and advised his parents to put him in conversion therapy.

  Thankfully, he had been an adult capable of escaping a bad situation. He’d waited to come out until he got out of medical school, sensing his family wouldn’t accept him. He might have never come out if not for his mother’s increasing insistence he marry and start a family once he was ready to start his career.

  He’d refused conversion therapy, and then they’d cut him out of the family. That’d been thirteen years ago. Olivia had only been three years old at the time. How she even thought to come to him, a virtual stranger, was beyond him. He’d recognized her only from the Facebook spying he’d done throughout the years.

  “Mom and Dad do want me to have the baby; they just don’t want me to keep the baby,” Olivia said. “They think it’d be best if I went away while I’m pregnant and then give the baby up for adoption. They don’t want their church friends to know their daughter is a whore.”

  Eric winced to hear such an ugly word come from her mouth. The idea that she’d heard it from her own parents was even more disturbing.

  “Tell me they didn’t use that word.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe not, but they were thinking it.”

  “I’m sorry, Olivia. I know how it feels to be cast as a sinner by your family.”

  “I know. I know you’re gay. They talk about you sometimes. When I was little, they used to pray for you.”

  Eric bit down on the old, familiar anger rising inside him. Olivia wasn’t here to talk about his sexuality or whether it made him a sinner. She was here because her family was refusing to support her in a difficult time.

  “So, you want to keep the baby?” he asked.

  “I do, but I don’t think I can do it alone. If I do what Mom and Dad want, I’ll have to finish high school in another state, away from everyone I know, with the knowledge that I handed my baby away to a stranger. What if that person isn’t good? What if my peanut’s life ends up worse because of that choice?”

  “And the baby’s father?”

  She shrugged, looking forlorn. “He claims the kid can’t be his because he used a condom. He’s from our church, so I think he’s scared his parents will flip out too. One set of parents is enough for me to deal with, so whatever. I don’t need his help.”

  Eric winced. Teenage boys could be such shitheads. Especially boys who felt trapped by their poor decisions. No one was more trapped than this teenage girl with a baby growing inside her, but she didn’t have an escape route. At least not one she was willing to take, and Eric sure as hell wouldn’t try to influence her choice.

  “Olivia, what do you need from me?”

  She looked him in the eye. “I need help, and it looks like you’re the only family I have who might be willing to let me make my own choice. I know it’s a lot, having a niece you don’t even know show up on your doorstep and ask for help raising a baby …”

  “Is that what you’re doing?” Eric asked calmly, even though her word choice alarmed him.

  “Would you say yes if I was?”

  He took time to think about that. It was a much bigger request than he’d anticipated. Eric had figured he’d present Olivia with her options and help her make an educated decision about her future. Possibly recommend a reputable doctor for her to see. But his niece was smart, and she’d already considered her options.

  Yet, to help raise a baby? Did he want to take that on?

  You could finally put those spare rooms to use. One for Olivia, and a nursery for the baby. You could decorate it in a jungle theme, cute little giraffes and monkeys. That wouldn’t be so bad. Having family again wouldn’t be so bad.

  Before he could answer, she rushed on. “If it’s too much to ask, I understand. Just a place to stay during my pregnancy would be a start. Maybe some help finding day care, so I can finish school. I don’t have any money, Uncle Eric, and I know I’m asking for too much, but—”

  “Livvie, stop,” he said, using the nickname the whole family had called her when she was still in diapers. “Of course I’ll help you. Like you said, we’re family. In point of fact: You’re my only family. That means I’ve got years of birthday money and quality time to make up to you, right? And as you can see,” he said, gesturing to the empty house, “I’ve got plenty of space for you and your child, should you want to stay after the baby is born. We hardly know each other, though, and I’m not sure we should rush into anything. We can have a trial run, set some house rules and see how it goes. But you’ll have to tell your parents where you are. I don’t want them worrying that you’ve run away.”

  She launched herself into his arms, the tears coming now. “Thank you,” she said into his shoulder. “Thank you so much. I’ll do whatever you need. You’re a lifesaver. I didn’t know what else to do. Peanut thanks you, too.”

  He laughed, patting her back.

  He’d never expected as a single gay man to take on the responsibility of a baby. But despite the poor circumstances that brought Olivia back into his life, he couldn’t be sad that she was there or that she would be bringing more life into this empty tomb of a house.

  “Have you seen a doctor?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No, but I’ve already made an appointment with Dr. Rollins. Will you come with me?”

  He couldn’t say no, even if the idea of seeing Casper Rollins made his stomach roil. Even if he’d have recommended any other doctor, simply to avoid sharing the same air space with the man.

  Not because Dr. Rollins was a bad doctor, but because Dr. Rollins turned Eric into a blushing, wide-eyed idiot — a tween with a crush — rather than the distinguished, successful hospital administrator he was.

  “Of course I’ll go,” he said with a sigh. How could he say anything else?

  Chapter Two

  Casper Rollins stepped up to the open door of the airplane 12,000 feet in the air. He was connected to two instructors who would assist in his free fall, but even with that safety net, his heart was thumping hard and fast in his chest.

  Adrenaline flooded his bloodstream.

  Bright blue sky rushed by, the wind loud in his ears, and the plane shuddered disturbingly under his feet. The little puddle jumper used for skydiving was a far cry from the smooth sailing jumbo jets he usually traveled on. While he stared out into the wide-open space before him, the phrase fight or flight took on new meaning.

  His cellphone, strapped to his forearm, buzzed with a text. He didn’t hear the alert, but he felt the vibration against his arm and lifted it to read the screen.

  The message was from his answering service available 24/7 to his obstetric patients.

  Amber Greene in labor. Heading to Ashe Medical Center.

  “Ready?” the instructor on his right called over the wind noise.

  Casper lowered his arm. He was already in the sky, poised to take his big jump. Amber’s baby wouldn’t wait, but there was no faster way to the ground.

  “Ready.”

  This one’s for you, Kage. This one and all the others.

  As instructed before take-off, he stepped out of the plane.

  With an instructor on each side stabilizing him and ensuring he correctly deployed the parachute, he didn’t feel any anxiety. Not even the thrilling fear of falling he’d expected. Instead, he felt a surge of joy as he sped through the sky, the wind rushing through his hair and tugging at his clothes.

  Kage would have loved this. His boyfriend had been an adrenaline junkie with dreams of working as a stunt double, a modern-day daredevil of thrilling feats. He’d never had the chance to break into the Guinness Book of World Records though. A tumor had put a clock on his life, but Kage had lived his life to the fullest while he could.

  Now, Casper carried on alone in his name.

  Each time he stepped out of a plane or off a bridge or went cave diving, he thought about how much Kage would have loved the rush of adrenaline, of life. When his courage started to fail him, he thought about how much the love of his life would have give
n to experience even one of those daring feats. Even after Kage had lost part of a leg, he’d been a thrill-seeker, always looking for the next adventure. Always living hard.

  Casper wasn’t the next great daredevil, and he didn’t want to be. But the occasional adrenaline rush kept him in touch with Kage’s memory.

  He lurched in the sky, the harness pulling hard enough to bruise as the parachute deployed. “Shit!” he yelled as he was pulled short before beginning the descent back to earth where he would celebrate life in his own way.

  By delivering a new child into the world.

  Baby Greene was waiting. Or rather, he wasn’t. So, once his feet were back on the earth, Dr. Casper Rollins headed to work.

  Twenty minutes later, he waltzed into the delivery room in his scrubs.

  Often, he wore long sleeves beneath the scrubs, mainly to hide his tattoos — something about doctors and tattoos didn’t mix well, particularly with the husbands of his patients, who felt threatened enough by a man performing intimate exams — but he was overheated after skydiving in the summer heat. It was June and already temperatures were hitting triple digits. He trusted everyone in the room was more concerned with Amber and her baby than the small piece of tattoo visible on his right bicep.

  “It hurts!” Amber cried as soon as she saw him.

  Amber had opted against the epidural — a recommendation he gave to all his patients, and one that was often ignored — and she looked like she regretted it.

  “Amber, listen to me,” he said calmly. “I know it hurts, and your instinct is to cry out. I want you to be silent.”

  She looked at him like he was crazy. He smiled encouragingly. “Screaming takes energy. Stay quiet and use that energy to push. Trust me, okay? It works.”

  She nodded, still looking skeptical, but on the next push she clenched her teeth instead of screaming and bore down hard. Two more pushes and baby Greene slid into his hands. He offered Dad the chance to cut the cord — Mr. Greene was a tad green and said no thanks — and then handed the baby off to the nursing staff to clear out all the mucus from sinus passages, clean the baby boy, and wrap him tightly in a blanket. Safely bundled and crying with lungs that were undoubtedly healthy, he was returned to his mother’s arms.