17. Xed
Chapter seventeen
“ I can’t do this.”
Fear grips me so tightly I can barely breathe, and I gape at Matty as he chuckles, completely unfazed. Hannah’s tiny form is cradled securely in his arms, but he’s already extending her toward me.
“Yes, you can. Just hold her like this, with your arm under her head.”
“Matthew, I don’t—"
He doesn’t give me any more time to object, just steps forward and gently deposits his daughter into my arms like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Panic claws up my throat as I automatically adjust to support her head, my hands trembling. Matty bends to set down the rest of her things from the hospital, oblivious to my rising terror.
Fuck, she’s small.
Even after almost two months in the NICU, she’s still so tiny. So fragile. My chest tightens as I stare down at her, horrified.
A full head of dark hair, just like her mom, and a little button nose from her dad. Her fingers and toes are impossibly small, her cheeks round and soft. Cute as shit. Her eyes are blue, too, but Matty mentioned they might change.
When her tiny brows wrinkle, and she starts to fuss, I instinctively brush my thumb over her forehead, smoothing the lines. Her face relaxes almost instantly, and something in me shifts.
This is the first time I’ve held her.
I’ve done what I can over the last few weeks—running errands, helping Jenna and Matty’s parents while he’s been tied up with football—but I’ve kept my distance from her.
Now, with her warm weight in my arms, so real and so impossibly small, I’m scared shitless.
“See?” Matty’s voice pulls me back to the moment. He’s watching me with a soft smile, the kind of look that reaches into my chest and tugs hard. “You’re a natural.”
I swallow thickly, trying to shove down the fear still clawing at me. “I feel like I’m gonna drop her.”
“You won’t,” he says simply, turning to adjust the bassinet he just set up near our bed. “She’s safe with you, Xed. Always. But I can take her now.”
Those words mean more to me than he’ll ever know.
“No, it’s... I’m fine.” When he reaches for her, I instinctively pull back. “I’ll hold her a little longer.”
His lips curve into a bright smile, eyes shining with so much love as he gazes at her that it knocks the breath right out of me.
Goddammit, why does he have to be so good ? Why does he have to make it so damn hard to keep my feelings for him strictly platonic?
For a while, we both just watch her, her tiny chest rising and falling, perfect little hands twitching in her sleep. She’s so precious.
Until she opens her mouth and lets out an ear-shattering shriek that has us both wincing .
Immediately followed by the wettest fart I’ve ever heard.
Matty sighs, dragging a hand down his unshaven face before gently taking her from my arms. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll get her changed.”
“And I’ll warm up a bottle.”
At least Valerie’s been pumping while in rehab, so there’s no shortage of breast milk in the fridge now that’s it’s safe for Hannah to drink. I head toward the kitchen, my chest inexplicably tight, the sound of Matty’s soft murmurs trailing behind me.
For all the chaos, all the sleepless nights and endless challenges, he makes it look effortless.
And every second I spend with him, it gets harder to remind myself that he isn’t mine.
Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting up in bed, watching Matty rock his baby girl to sleep in the chair we built together. She’s curled against his bare chest, and the peaceful look on his face fills me with a strange sense of contentment. He looks completely at home, comfortable, in his element. Like he was born to be a parent.
Something about that thought has me remembering the day I followed him off the playground in fourth grade after school. None of the other kids wanted to play with me because I was quiet and weird, too small with clothes two sizes too big. I was on my way home, dejected and sad, when Matty grabbed my hand to stop me.
“Alexander, where are you going?”
I take in the bigger hand enveloping mine before looking up from under my lashes at the boy towering above me. His eyes match the sky, blue like a clear summer day, silver blond waves flopping over his brow.
Matthew. We don’t have the same teacher, but I can’t help how my attention seems to follow him at recess or lunch. He’s so much taller than the rest of us. Bigger, too. He always tries to include me, even though I keep to myself. We met in second grade.
“I’m going home,” I mutter, trying to pull away from him, but he holds on tighter.
“Don’t you wanna come to the park with us? There’s a new jungle gym they just put in. We’re gonna play a game.”
Glancing over his shoulder, I spot the faces of some of the kids he’s hanging with, the ones who live up on the big hill in the big houses. They’re looking at me like they smell something gross, all wrinkled noses and narrowed eyes.
Bringing the collar of my shirt up to my nose, I sniff and cough at the scent of mothballs that comes from the second-hand store Aunt Pearl gets all my clothes from, my cheeks heating from embarrassment.
“N-no. I gotta go.” Yanking my hand away, I shoulder the strap on my fraying messenger bag higher before quickly making my way back down the sidewalk. It’s probably better that they don’t like me, anyway. If I don’t do my chores, I’ll get in trouble. And when I get in trouble...
Since my head is bowed, it takes me a moment to realize that a set of large sneakers is walking next to me. I glance up to find Matthew’s blue eyes smiling down at me.
My brows wrinkle as I slow to a stop. “What are you doing?”
He shrugs. “Going home.”
“But...what about the playground? ”
Something about that question confuses him, and he tilts his head. “Why would I wanna go play if you can’t?”
Now it’s my turn to stare at him like he’s talking nonsense. “Because those are your friends.”
“So are you,” he grins brightly, tongue trapped between crooked teeth, and I don’t understand the feeling that flops around in my stomach. Like gas. Maybe I ate something at lunch.
Matt continues on, bouncing on his feet without a care in the world, and I just...follow silently. Because I’ve never really had anyone call me a friend before, and I’m still not ready to go home.
He cuts to the right, down a road I’ve never been before, so I do, too. Then he crosses the street to the houses on the other side, and I’m right on his heels. When he glances over his shoulder and does a zig-zag, I follow suit, not sure why, other than it looks like fun.
A big laugh bursts out of him, making me think of the donkey we saw on a field trip as he starts to skip. Before I can mimic him, though, he trips over his laces and tumbles onto the ground with an oomph.
And what do I do? I fall over, too. Dropping my backpack, I lay myself out on the sidewalk beside him with a snort, making him smile wide. I think I like making him smile.
“You remind me of a baby duck,” he says, flopping onto his back, and I scowl.
“I’m not a duck.” Ducks are cute. I’m definitely not cute.
“Well, you sure follow me around like one, Alexander.” Clambering to his feet, Matthew reaches down to tug me up by my wrist. I let him before snatching my arm back like it burns, cringing at the way he says my full name.
“Don’t call me that,” I mutter, dropping my gaze, and his eyes widen like saucers .
“You don’t like your name?”
I shake my head. Reminds me too much of Aunt Pearl yelling at me.
“Is that why everyone calls you Alex?”
With a shrug, I wipe my nose, not really caring for that name either. It’s better than Alexander, though.
Matthew hums, rocking back and forth. “How bout I call you Xed? Like from Power Rangers?”
Glancing up at him, I shrug again because I’ve never seen that show. “I guess.”
I’m not very talkative.
He doesn’t seem to mind, though, only smiles before taking off with a whistle.
He’s so...happy. And nice. Kinda wanna be around him for just a bit longer.
So we continue this little game of me repeating everything he does all the way to his house, which is ten times bigger than mine but looks messier. There are bikes on the front lawn, squirt guns, and a basketball hoop. It looks fun—funner than Aunt Pearl’s dumb flower bushes.
“Do you live at my house, too?” Matt asks with a laugh when I follow him up a stone walkway to the porch, and I give another shrug.
An odd look crosses his face, something I can’t figure out, before he grins and opens the front door.
When I follow him in, he leads us up to his room and shows me his video games, unbothered by my presence or smell.
So I decide right then and there that I’ll just do it all again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.
Until he gets sick of me.
“What’s that look for?”
Blinking out of the memory, I find Matty watching me, his eyes soft as he rocks Hannah in his arms. My throat tightens, emotion clawing its way up and making it hard to breathe.
“Fatherhood suits you,” I murmur. “That’s all.”
He slows his rocking slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”
I glance away, moving to my side of the bed as I feel my face heat. “You’ve always taken care of the people you love, Matt. For as long as I’ve known you.”
Silence stretches between us, but I don’t dare look back to see his expression. Instead, I slip beneath the covers we’ve been sharing for months, turning my face into the pillow to hide.
“I’ve got an early class,” I add softly, mostly to fill the space.
He doesn’t respond, but the soft creak of the rocker fills the room, lulling me into a fragile kind of calm. As I close my eyes, his steady, soothing movements mix with the occasional sound of Hannah’s soft fussing, and I let the rhythm guide me into sleep.