Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Caleb
I take a step off the plane, and the familiar scent of Boston’s crisp air hits me as I take my first breath of freedom in three months. The bustling airport is a far cry from the remote locations I’ve been working in recently, and the noise, the movement, the sheer normalcy of it all are oddly comforting. It feels good to be back—really good.
Maybe Ethan and Max were right. Coming to Boston first, where I have my friends, was a smarter idea than heading straight to San Diego. There’s not much waiting for me at home, and after so long away, it’s probably wise to ease back into civilian life with the people who know me best.
As I descend the steps from the plane and reach the tarmac, I spot the company car already waiting for me. The driver steps out, nods in greeting, and opens the door with a practiced efficiency.
“Where to, sir?” he asks, his tone respectful but familiar.
“The hospital,” I reply, sliding into the back seat. “I want to meet the new McCallister bundle of joy.”
The driver smiles, holding the door open for me. “Yes, sir. Congratulations to Mr. McCallister.”
“Thanks,” I reply as I slide into the back seat.
The driver closes the door behind me with a soft click, and we pull away from the tarmac. As the car glides onto the road, I settle back into the seat, feeling a mix of anticipation and relief. Heading to the hospital first feels right—celebrating new life with friends is exactly the kind of normal I need right now.
Earlier today, Zoe, Max’s fiancée, went into labor. That was one of the reasons I decided to come back. The other was something about an emergency—or at least that’s how it was framed. Either way, they thought it’d be wise for me to be here, so here I am.
Max has been keeping me in the loop since I boarded the plane. My niece was born just a few hours ago, and he’s been sending me updates ever since. The last one was a picture of a tiny newborn with a tuft of dark hair and a bow, captioned, Mom and baby princess are well .
I’m happy for him, but when I asked for the name of the little princess, his response was classic Max—ridiculously vague. You’ll find out when you get here , was all he texted. He called the baby his little life-changing, surreal creature.
I have to admit, I never would’ve imagined that Max would find someone who could change him for the better. I seriously thought Zoe was going to break him, but nope. They complement each other in ways no one could’ve predicted.
When the driver pulls up to the hospital, I glance over and say, “Thanks for the lift. I’ll text you when I’m ready to head out—shouldn’t be more than an hour. If you could take my things to the executive apartment, that’d be great.”
“Of course, Mr. Cunningham. I’ll take care of it,” he replies with a nod.
I step out of the car, taking a deep breath as I approach the hospital’s entrance. The automatic doors slide open with a soft whoosh, and I’m immediately greeted by the sterile scent of antiseptic and the quiet hum of life inside.
I stride through the lobby, the sounds of muted conversations and the distant beeping of machines filling the air. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a bright, almost harsh glow on everything, and the cool, polished tiles reflect my silhouette as I move.
A nurse at the reception desk gives me a polite nod, and I return it with a tight smile, not slowing my pace. Hospitals aren’t my favorite place. In my experience, nothing good happens here. I’ve been stitched up more times than I care to count, usually from some mission gone sideways.
My father was rushed to this hospital when he collapsed at work—it was a heart attack. They didn’t think he’d make it, but somehow he pulled through. And then there are the times when either Max or Ethan have been hurt. I’ve stayed nights beside them because, like me, the stubborn assholes don’t want to worry their parents and siblings and refuse to let us call them.
I shake my head, trying to shake the dread, and walk to the elevator. I step inside, pressing the button for the third floor where the maternity ward is. The doors slide shut, and the elevator hums softly as it ascends. I lean back against the wall, my thoughts drifting to Max and Zoe. They’re happy—really, genuinely happy. They’ve found something solid, something real.
Meanwhile, I’m always somewhere in between, never fully settling into one place or one life. I’m constantly in limbo, juggling between missions and moments like this—where I share in the happiness of others, but never my own.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. I step out and make my way down the hallway, the soft sounds of newborn cries and hushed conversations filling the air. When I reach the room, I pause for a moment, gathering myself before greeting the new family.
Inside, I find Max sitting on the edge of the bed, his arm wrapped around Zoe as she cradles a tiny bundle of pink and purple. Max’s face is softened by an expression I’ve never seen on him before—pure, unfiltered love. Zoe looks up at him, her eyes sparkling with the same emotion, while the baby rests peacefully in her arms.
The sight hits me harder than I expected. There’s something about seeing my best friend like this, holding the most precious thing in his life, that tugs at something deep inside me. It’s a quiet moment, but it’s everything. A small pang of something—maybe loneliness, maybe envy—flickers in me, but I push it aside. This is their moment and I’m genuinely happy for them. Still, seeing them like this makes me wonder when— if —I’ll ever find something like it.
But do I even want that? With my line of work, it feels selfish to even consider it. I don’t want to be someone’s worry, or worse, a burden. But what if . . .
I shake off the thoughts and refocus on the moment at hand.
“Hey,” I say softly, stepping into the room with a grin. “Am I interrupting, or can I finally meet this life-changing, surreal creature ?”
Max looks up, his grin matching mine. “Get over here, Cunningham. Meet your niece.”
I step closer, and the warmth of the room wraps around me like a cozy blanket. The sight of Max and Zoe with their baby somehow makes the usual weight on my shoulders feel a little lighter. This, right here—these moments of connection and shared happiness—this is what life is about. The sense of belonging, of being part of something bigger than yourself. It’s a rare feeling for me, and I savor it while it lasts.
“She’s perfect,” I say, feeling a genuine smile spread across my face. “Congratulations, man. And you too, Zoe. You guys did good.”
Zoe looks up at me with a tired but radiant smile. “Thanks, Caleb. We’re pretty smitten with her already.”
Max lets out a breathy laugh, a mix of relief and awe in his voice. “Yeah. Can you believe it? I’m a dad and have a beautiful woman who loves me.”
“Believe it?” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I can barely believe you let someone domesticate you, let alone that you’re now responsible for a tiny human.”
Zoe laughs softly. “He’s not as bad as you think.”
Max smirks. “Don’t worry, I’m housebroken. Mostly.”
Zoe rolls her eyes but smiles affectionately. “I’ll believe that when you stop leaving your socks all over the place.”
Max grins wider, clearly enjoying the banter. “Hey, I’m a dad now. I think that gives me a free pass for at least a year—but you’re the messy one, future Mrs. McCallister. And you have a pass for eternity.”
Zoe chuckles and playfully nudges him. “If by messy, you mean keeping things creatively organized, then yes, guilty as charged.” She yawns, a soft, tired sound, and Max immediately takes the baby from her arms with the gentleness of a man who’s just discovered his heart outside his body.
“Get some rest, babe,” Max says softly, brushing a kiss on her forehead. He looks down at the baby in his arms, a mixture of pride and awe in his expression. “You and I will hang out while Mom is napping.”
Instead of pointing out that the baby is also asleep, I step closer, curiosity getting the better of me. “So, what’s the name of this little bundle of joy? Am I finally allowed to learn it, or is it still some kind of national security secret?”
Max grins at me, then looks down at his daughter with a soft expression. “Caleb, meet Emma Grace McCallister.”
My lungs deflate at the mention of her name. Emma is too close to Emmersyn. Emmersyn, the woman who apparently sent me an envelope a few weeks ago to . . . Who the fuck knows, really. My assistant could’ve opened it for me, but it didn’t seem urgent. Besides, what is there left to say between Em and me?
Max’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I force a smile, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling. “I’m fine, just tired. Long flight, you know? I probably should head to the apartment.”
Max raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Oh, so should I wait until you’re rested to mention that call you got last week?”
I cock an eyebrow, crossing my arms and giving him a look that says go on .
“According to my assistant, the woman said it was urgent,” he adds, his tone a mix of teasing and something more serious.
I narrow my gaze, trying to figure out his angle. Max is pretty unpredictable—sometimes he just likes to fuck with me for the sake of it, and other times he actually has news, but he still enjoys screwing with my head.
“A woman?” I ask, keeping my tone as businesslike as possible, determined not to let him pull any pranks. He’s probably gearing up to tell me some outlandish story, like a one-night stand claiming to have my baby or something equally ridiculous. The ways he can mess with me are endless. “And urgent, huh? I’m sure you took care of it since I was out of town, and it’s all done and over.”
I even go as far as patting his shoulder. “It’s good to know I can count on you when I’m in the middle of a mission. Now that I know Zoe and Emma are doing well and you’re okay, I’m heading to the executive apartment. I’m staying a couple of weeks before heading back to San Diego. ”
Not giving him a chance to respond, I start to walk away, confident I’ve dodged whatever trick he had up his sleeve. But then his words stop me cold, like an ice-cold bucket of water being dumped over my head.
“ Your wife .” He clears his throat. “It was Emmersyn Langley who called—I’ll text you her information. She claimed it’s urgent .”
The word “wife” hangs in the air like a punch I never saw coming, landing squarely in my chest and knocking the wind out of me.
Emmersyn Langley.
Fucking Emmersyn. The one person I thought I’d managed to leave behind, the one loose thread in my otherwise tightly woven life. And now, out of nowhere, she’s back, sending envelopes, calling, and claiming it’s urgent.
What the fuck does she want?