Violet
Something was different.
I knew it before I looked at the clock.
My hand tightened around the blanket as another contraction rolled across my stomach.
Not tightening.
Not pressure.
A contraction.
I breathed slowly until it eased.
Then I looked at the time.
Wednesday afternoon.
Thirty-two weeks and six days pregnant.
“Shit.”
I'd been on modified bed rest for almost two weeks.
I'd followed Dr. Cole's instructions.
Mostly.
Okay, after everyone in my family started policing me, I'd followed them whether I wanted to or not.
But the contractions I'd experienced before were scattered.
Uncomfortable.
They'd disappear when I rested or changed positions.
These hurt.
And they kept coming back.
I reached for my phone.
Before I could do anything, another contraction started
