12. Huxley
12
HUXLEY
Walking into the maternity ward, I’m surrounded by walls painted in bright colors, and there are murals of storks and smiling clouds floating above as if watching over the new lives in their care. Somehow, it feels like stepping back in time to when I was a kid, awkward and wide-eyed, in a similar ward awaiting my baby brother’s arrival.
My bed still feels like the back of a porcupine as I endured another restless night. My thoughts were punctuated by Savannah Mitchell’s words, stirring my mind. Yet, this morning offers a clean slate.
I stride toward the nurses’ station to meet my buddy and Red Mark partner, Jack. He spots me from a distance, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
“Recon Jack!” I shout, half-teasing, half-reverent of his Marine past. His eyes light up as I pull him into a hearty embrace. “Congratulations, partner.”
“Thanks, Comet,” he replies, his voice tinged with a new father’s pride. He claps a hand on my back. “Come on, let’s introduce you to Harper,” he beams, the thrill of first-time fatherhood igniting his features. Though he’s been a devoted dad to his stepson Quinton, the birth of his own child no doubt holds a special place in his heart.
Jack nudges the door open. Inside, Ava lies propped up against a stack of pillows, cradling her baby with that unmistakable new-mom glow.
“Good to see you, Hux,” Ava murmurs as I lean in, my lips brushing her cheek in a soft congratulation. Her eyes, tired yet vibrant, light up as they land on the bundle of sunflowers I hold. “I’ve never seen so many sunflowers in one bunch. You really know how to brighten up a weary mother’s day.”
As I hand over the flowers, Jack steps forward to take them and carefully places the yellow blooms on the windowsill.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t swing by yesterday,” I confess, shifting slightly under the weight of my own words.
Jack, ever perceptive, clears his throat—a knowing sound that doesn’t need words to convey his understanding of the chaos our job at Red Mark often brings.
“Don’t be silly!” Ava says. With assurance, she hands me their precious daughter. Being familiar with my experience in caring for children, both hers and my younger brother, she knows she can trust me.
“Hey there, Harper,” I whisper to the tiny life in my arms. She’s a miniature miracle, fitting so neatly into the curve of my palm. “I’m Hux. You’re absolutely beautiful.” She continues to slumber peacefully.
Ava’s voice pulls me back as she says, “Quinton’s been missing you.”
Ah, sweet Quinnie Bear. I still remember our first encounter when he was just learning to say ‘mama.’
Ava asks, “You’ll come by this weekend, right?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I assure her, carefully transferring Harper back to her.
Removing my backpack, I pick out the treats I’ve brought. “ Here are the Lemonheads you craved.” I line them up on the bedside table, which already holds a small vase of cheerful daisies and a stuffed bear.
“Hux, you’re the best!” Ava exclaims, her laughter mingling with the gurgles from Harper.
“And this,” I present Jack with the Jolly Ranchers, “is for the proud papa.”
Jack claps me on the back. “Hux, my man, you’ve thought of everything,” he says, unwrapping a piece of candy.
He perches on the edge of the hospital bed, enveloping his wife in a protective hug. He was a badass Marine, but look at the way he feeds her a Lemonhead—his movements deliberate, infusing the sour candy with sweetness. He presses a kiss to her forehead, and then, with a touch as light as a feather, he strokes his daughter’s downy hair. This intimate scene is a reminder of the love I yearn for myself. A love that is nurturing, pure, and selfless.
Ava then turns to her husband, “Jack, don’t forget Huxley’s present.”
Jack exclaims, “Oh yeah!” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out an envelope. “For the birthday boy, yesterday.”
Ava smiles and adds, “Happy belated birthday, Hux,” as I open the envelope to find a gift card for an electronics store.
I smile and nod in appreciation.
“You’ve been talking about getting new speakers for your gaming,” Jack notes.
“Thanks, partner!” I respond, giving him a hug. Then, I turn to Ava and peck her cheek. “This is really thoughtful of you both. I’ll definitely put it to good use.”
Ava laughs, a bit bemused. “You should teach me how Xbox works. I feel so out of touch with all things digital.”
“You haven’t missed much, sweetheart,” Jack tells his wife.
We share a chuckle. Then, amid a brief silence, my partner senses something in me. He nods to Ava and murmurs, “I’ll be back.”
She responds with a smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling in quiet agreement. “Go ahead.”
As we make our way out and head toward the hospital café, Jack throws me a sidelong glance that’s too knowing for comfort. “What’s up with you? Your new haircut not giving you the superhero vibes you hoped for?”
I roll my eyes, trying to cover up the blush creeping up my neck, thinking about what’s really on my mind. Jack laughs, his amusement free-flowing as if my awkwardness is merely a punchline to his joke.
I mumble a quick, “It’s nothing.”
“There! Huxley Cometti never says ‘it’s nothing.’” He scoffs. “Man, the last time I checked, I was supposed to be the brooding one.”
“Looks like your gloom’s contagious,” I shoot back, a weak smile trying to spark our usual banter.
“You want one, don’t you?” he nudges.
“What? A baby? Yeah, I guess I do, Jack.”
“And who’s the lucky lady?” he insists, unrelenting.
My jaw tightens, words scrambling to get out. Today was supposed to be about him, yet my moment of truth seems unavoidable.
“Savannah Mitchell?” His question is so on point it startles me.
My eyebrows fly up. “How do you know?”
“Ah, my sources are as reliable as a weatherman predicting rain in the Sahara,” he replies nonchalantly.
“Yeah, her,” I concede, bracing myself for his inevitable teasing. I rub the back of my neck in exasperation, already regretting how easily he can read me .
“What’s your game plan?” Jack’s interest is genuine, his gaze keen.
“I’m not even sure I want to be in this game,” I reply.
He gives me a long look. “Forget I called it a game, Comet. It’s not. When are you seeing her next? Tell me you’ve got something lined up.”
There’s a hesitation inside me, but I push it aside. “I’m picking her up soon from St. Peters,” I admit, the words sounding more like a commitment now that they’re spoken aloud.
“That’s a solid first move. You should be proud.” He claps a hand on my shoulder.
I grunt in acknowledgment. “Remember I told you once that I joined the Navy thinking it’d impress the ladies?”
His laughter is short but sincere. “I remember. You’ve come a long way since then.”
I manage a rueful grin. “Part of me wishes I hadn’t grown up, though.”
The mood shifts. Jack’s voice drops a register, touching on my Colombian scar—a chapter I only shared with a select few.
“Time to step forward, buddy,” he says with a seasoned tone of encouragement.
“Maybe she’s already nudging me,” I sigh, the image of Savannah igniting a flicker of hope. “It’s frightening, but… she’s sparked something in me.”
He cautions, “Easy there, Hux.” But he delivers it with the clarity of one who’s weathered his own storms. “Love’s a battlefield, all right. Just make sure you know who you’re fighting.”
A wry chuckle escapes me, acknowledging the mix of humor and wisdom in his words. The connection Savannah and I share goes beyond our love for horses and the ranch life. It reaches deep into the matters of the heart, the places that hurt from past wounds.
For every battlefield, there’s a training ground. What if that’s where I begin? Staying close to her to glean wisdom from her experiences, her losses. The comfort of her presence is becoming increasingly essential. This time, unlike my past relationships, retreat is not an option. When the wreckage of my past breaches the surface, it will confront its destiny—either to be reclaimed and renewed or to sink back into the abyss forever.