When Sky Breaks: Burn & Break Duet Book 2

56

“What’s his name, little momma?” the nurse writing all his stats down asks me, poised with the dry-erase marker.

I beam at my beautiful son as he nurses, his light brown hair surprisingly thick on his little head.

“Chase Foster Moore,” I say, watching August as he stares at the two of us.

He’s in love already, his soft gray eyes shining as he stands with a hand over his chest, as if willing his heart to stay in place.

What people say is true. Your children are just pieces of your heart walking around on the outside of your body.

Chase imprinted on me the moment I saw the positive test, stole my breath when he kicked for the first time, and now renders me speechless as he takes nourishment from my body.

Once he’s popped off my breast and falls into a peaceful slumber with his little mouth wide open, August asks if he can hold him.

I lift Chase, and August takes the bundle, cradling him with such careful tenderness. Warmth travels all throughout my body at the sight.

This gives me a moment of respite to shake out my stiff arms and achy legs. I text Foster and Trek, both of whom were on standby. Foster beat his battle with cancer and loves being a proud grandpa, complete with an embroidered hat he wore at the birth of Trek’s daughter, and no doubt will wear when he visits later today.

Marley will stop by as well. She and August have spent the last few years fixing their relationship, and she’s excited to be called Nana.

Of course, Phoebe—Auntie Bee—and Graham Cracker are expected to drive down later in the week. I’ve been instructed to make sure Chase wears the onesie she had made for him. It reads “My Aunt is the Bee’s Knees.” He’s going to be one spoiled child and the thought brings a genuine smile to my face.

We also have a video chat scheduled with my aunt and uncle, whom I’ve formed an unusually close bond with. They’re a chance to learn about my past and to forge a new future. Chase will have more family to love, something I’m grateful for.

As I watch my husband rock gently back and forth with our son nestled in his arms, an easy smile steals its way onto my face. He glances up with a dreamy, ethereal expression and I’m shaken to my core with overwhelming love.

Moments with August are quiet. Calm. Like walking on fresh powdered snow. The silence drowns out any fear of motherhood, any lingering anxiety about how good I’ll be. He’s a balm on my soul, soothing down any sharp edges I still have.

I used to think love needed to be butterflies in my belly, but that simply isn’t the case.

Loving August is as easy as breathing, a steady, gentle movement like the softest hug and warmest blanket touching your skin.

Sometimes, we have to endure the bad to find the good, and life is certainly not without its suffering. But once you find it—the part of life that makes it worth it? You hold on to it and never, ever let it go.

The End.