Chapter 50
CALLUM
Fall
The roar of the crowd was deafening. Sticks clashed, skates sliced across the ice, and Brody’s team was up by one with twenty-three minutes to go. My pulse hammered, but I did my best to be the very picture of calm on the outside.
I folded my hands over my chest, my jaw set as I watched. On the inside, however, I was vibrating. The kid was flying out there. Fast, smart, relentless. Just like his old man used to be.
Brody and I were up in Oregon for a hockey tournament. Today was the championship game and our team was killing it out there. My chest swelled with pride, part of me still unable to believe that the kid I was watching was my son.
I’d never known it could feel like this, but Maisie had assured me time and again that all parents felt this way sometimes. Like they just couldn’t believe that was their kid.
Dragging in a deep breath, I was so lost in the game that I flinched when my phone started buzzing in my pocket. I pulled it out, still keeping an eye on the team, and saw CC’s name on my screen out of the corner of my eye.
Odd. She never calls me during games.
“Hey, what’s up?” I said, distracted by Brody taking control of the puck again. “Can I call you back in—”
Her voice came through ragged and a little breathless. “Callum, I need you to stay calm, okay?”
Every muscle in my body went rigid, my very bones locking up. “What happened?”
“It’s Maisie,” she said quickly. “She called me over a few minutes ago. I’m packing her hospital bag now. She thinks she’s in labor.”
“What?” I snapped the question out so loudly that Gage frowned at me from a few feet down. “She’s not due for another three weeks, Mom.”
“I know,” CC rushed out. “She said she didn’t want to worry you unless it was real, but I think it’s real enough that we’re heading to the hospital. Just to be safe. It could still be a false alarm, but—”
“Shit.” I dragged a hand down my face, trying to find oxygen to pull into my lungs, but the air in the rink seemed to be devoid of it. “Why didn’t she call me?”
“She didn’t want to bother you until after the game,” CC said softly. “It’s Brody’s tournament and we know this is likely nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, throat tight. “That sounds like her. Just keep me in the loop, okay?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Enjoy the game.”
She hung up and I glanced up at the clock. Twenty minutes left. Twenty minutes that felt like twenty years. Twenty years of absolute agony.
I forced myself to sit, my eyes on the ice but my brain miles away, running through flights and worst-case scenarios.
My leg bounced restlessly. Brody scored a goal, but I barely registered it.
I reared to my feet with the rest of the parents though, shooting him a grin and two thumbs up, but still. This was torture.
When the buzzer finally blared, the crowd went insane. Parents cheered, kids hugged, the team swarmed the ice. I clapped, whistled, and smiled, but it was all muscle memory. My son was a champion again, and I was already mentally on my way home.
As soon as the team left the ice, I went to meet Brody in the locker room. The kid was beaming, face flushed red beneath his helmet. “Dad, did you see?”
“I saw, buddy,” I said, crouching in front of him to unclip his pads. “You were unreal out there.”
He grinned, his little chest puffed up with pride. “Can we get milkshakes again like last time?”
I swallowed hard, desperately not wanting to disappoint him, but I was on edge, waiting for my mother to call back. “We might have to take a rain check on that, champ.”
A flicker of a frown crossed his features, but then a teammate clapped him on the shoulder and his attention was diverted from me to his friend. Gage wandered over, a towel around his neck and a smirk on his face. “What’s up, Cal? You look like someone just told you your house burned down.”
I took a deep breath. “CC called. Maisie’s in labor. Or she might be. They’re heading to the hospital to find out.”
Gage’s eyes widened. “Holy hell. Go. Don’t worry about any of this. I’ll handle everything here. Take Brody, grab your stuff, and get on a flight.”
“I don’t even know if—”
“Go,” he repeated, clapping me on the back. “You’ll regret it if you don’t. Go be with her.”
That was all it took. I’d made a promise to help him chaperone, and honestly, that was the only reason I hadn’t already left, but I knew he would manage. Some other dad could step up for a change.
I looked down at my son when his friend took off, his face so much like hers and so much like mine at the same time, and my chest tightened. “Come on, bud. We’re going home.”
For the second time in my life, Maisie was about to bring a Westwood into the world—and this time, I wasn’t missing a damn second of it. The minute Gage shoved us out of that locker room, I had my phone out, my fingers flying across the screen.
We’d flown up with the team on a packed commercial flight, and the family jets were all over the map. Mine was at home, but I knew it would need a refuel. Sterling’s was in Napa, Jameson’s was in upstate New York, and Harrison’s seemed to be somewhere over the Atlantic.
Every pilot I called said the same thing—no go on an immediate pickup. We raced back to the hotel. We were supposed to have been leaving in the morning anyway, so our stuff was already packed. I’d been expecting a late night celebrating. We grabbed our things and left.
Brody trailed behind me, still in his team jacket, clutching the trophy Gage had thrust into his hands. “Are we really going home right now, Daddy?”
“Yup,” I said, checking flight times on my phone. “Your little brother might be coming, bud. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you that as soon as you got off the ice, but my head is a little messed up right now.”
His eyes went wide. “He’s coming now?”
“Maybe.”
We sprinted through the terminal, me juggling our duffel bags, his gear, both our boarding passes, and feeling the kind of adrenaline that could fuel a space launch.
A flight to San Francisco was leaving in thirty minutes.
It was tight but doable. I’d bought the tickets on instinct, overpaid by a mile, and now, I was just praying for no delays.
When we made it through security, Brody was panting and laughing at the same time. “This is crazy.”
“Yeah,” I said, half-grinning despite the panic crawling up my throat. “We’re almost there though, okay? One last sprint?”
He nodded and we took off, making it to the gate with two minutes to spare. An air hostess scanned our passes and we tumbled into our seats in first class when we found them. I was sweating through my shirt and Brody was still vibrating from the rush, but we’d made it.
As I reached for my seatbelt to buckle up, my phone buzzed again, CC’s name on the screen again. I answered instantly. “Tell me.”
“Callum, she’s in labor,” Mom said. “It’s real. They’re admitting her now.”
In the background, I could hear Maisie’s voice, strained and breathless, but steady. “Thirty-seven weeks, three days. Yes, Westwood.”
“Mom, will you call Michelle?” I was already thinking five steps ahead. “Get a jet out to Michigan to pick her up. Whichever one can get there fastest. Maisie’s going to want her mom there once he’s born.”
“Got it,” CC said. “Do you want to talk to her?”
“Yeah. Please. Put her on.”
The sound shifted and there was a slight rustle. Maisie’s voice came over the line, small and tight. Probably between contractions. “Hey, love. How’d he do?”
“They won,” I said softly, leaning my head back against the seat and trying to keep my voice from shaking. “We just boarded, baby. We’re on a plane. We’re coming.”
She laughed weakly. “You don’t have to rush—”
“The hell I don’t,” I cut in, and she laughed again, even through the pain.
“I’m fine, Callum. I’ve got your mom with me and this isn’t my first rodeo. Laney and Sadie are on standby. We’ve got this.”
“I missed Brody’s first breath,” I said, the words coming out rough. “I’m not missing this, too. I’m going to be there when he comes into the world. You hear me?”
There was a pause. Her voice softened. “I hear you, baby. Just be safe, okay? We’ll see you soon.”
“I love you,” I said, a tremor running through the very center of my chest.
“I love you too.” Her voice was tighter now, and once she’d hung up, I grimaced. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is really happening.
Brody leaned against my arm, watching me with wide eyes. “Is Mom okay?”
“She’s perfect,” I told him, forcing a smile. “Your brother is coming, though. Grandma is there, but we’ll go straight to the hospital when we land.”
As the plane’s engines roared to life, I gripped my son’s hand and stared out at the darkening sky. I didn’t care if we had to run from the airport to the hospital, I was going to make it this time.
Nothing, not delays, not chaotic traffic, and not the damn laws of physics were going to stop me from getting to her.
The flight stretched on and on, feeling much longer than the roughly ninety-five minutes it actually was. The cabin lights were dim, the hum of the engines steady, and Brody curled up beside me, his eyes on the side of my face.
“Dad,” he asked quietly. “Are you scared?”
I looked down at him, too perceptive for eight years old. I’d forgotten how deeply I’d felt everything at his age. So I smiled, not about to bullshit him. “A little bit, but I’m mostly excited. We just need to get there, you know?”
He nodded like he understood that mix of emotions, nerves, urgency, and hope all tangled up into a tight ball in the pit of his stomach. “I’m excited too. I’m going to teach him how to play hockey.”
“You’ll be the best teacher he could ever have.”
Brody’s grin grew. “Do you think he’ll be a goalie or a forward?”
“Oh, definitely a forward.” I leaned back in my seat. “Goalies are a special kind of crazy.”
He laughed, a light, easy sound that served to ground me.
To remind me that even though this didn’t feel real, it very much was.
One day, this little one was going to be Brody’s age, with hopes, and dreams, and perceptions all of his own.
So I kept talking, both to keep him calm and to steady myself.
“We’ll get him his first pair of skates together,” I said. “They’ll be tiny ones, like those you have in the back of your closet, and we’ll take him to the rink. Show him the ropes. Maybe he’ll love trucks, too. You can show him your collection.”
Brody nodded solemnly. “I’ll share the red one, but not the blue one.”
“That’s fair.” I chuckled. “We’ll ease him in. For the first little while, he won’t want much but sleep, a clean diaper, and milk anyhow.”
Somewhere over the coast, Brody finally dozed off, his head on my arm, his breathing soft and even.
I stayed awake, staring out the window at the dark sky, thinking about the kid I’d been when he was born—the one who’d run from the responsibility of even going to class, who’d shied away from love, and who’d been too much of a chicken to own up to how he felt about her.
That kid would never have made it here, but I wasn’t him anymore.
When we landed, I drove like a maniac—but a safe one who didn’t take too many chances—straight from the airport to the hospital. CC was waiting near the entrance, her eyes tired but shining with joy.
“She’s okay,” she said as soon as she saw me. “Go. I’ll take care of my grandson.”
I hugged her, pressed a quick kiss to Brody’s hair, and handed him off. “Go with Grandma, bud. Get some sleep. I’ll come get you as soon as I can.”
“Tell Mom I love her,” he mumbled, his eyelids drooping. “Tell my little brother, too.”
“I will.” I gave him one last, reassuring smile, and then I was running again. I sprinted through sterile halls, down the corridor where nurses moved like clockwork, turning corners with my sneakers squeaking on tiles until I found her.
Maisie looked exhausted and radiant all at once, hair damp against her temples, but I’d made it in time.
The room was swarming with medical people, nurses and a doctor seated at the foot of the bed.
Her face broke into a relieved grin as soon as her eyes met mine, but it didn’t even last for a second before her features contorted.
“Okay, Maisie,” the doctor said calmly from behind her mask. “Let’s get Dad in there. I need one more big push, okay?”
She nodded and I stumbled on numb legs to her side, grasping her hand and not even giving a shit when she gripped it so tight that she damn near crushed my knuckles. Fifteen minutes later, a cry pierced the air and I felt like my world tipped upside down with the sound.
“Is that…”
Maisie squeezed my hand again and collapsed against the bed, breathing hard, but a soft smile spread on her face as her tired gaze slid to mine. “That’s him, baby. Samuel Westwood.”
The next few minutes were another flurry of activity. I barely managed to keep up when the doc called me over and introduced me to my furious son. His tiny little red face was scrunched up in absolute anger, his legs kicked stiff as he bellowed. He was awesome.
Clearly, there was nothing wrong with his lungs.
I just blinked at him, feeling like my entire world had just expanded and snapped into place at the same time.
In absolute awe and staring at the kid like he was the Eighth Wonder of the World, I managed to do whatever it was the nurses told me.
Then suddenly, they were bundling him up in a soft, blue blanket and carrying him over to Maisie.
I was gaping the entire time, but as they laid him down on her chest and she cradled him to her, I felt hot tears tracking down my cheeks. I stumbled back to her bed, sliding my hand onto her thigh and resting my head next to her arm on the mattress to peer up at him.
“Fuck, he’s so beautiful,” I breathed. “Was Brody also that angry?”
She chuckled. “It’s a big shock, to come out into the cold, great, wide world after only knowing soft, squishy warmth. You should phone your mom. And mine. They’re both going to be on tenterhooks.”
I nodded, the realization sinking in that the rest of the world had carried on while my entire existence had been flipped on its head. CC answered on the first ring. “Callum?”
“Yeah, Mom, it’s me,” I said, my voice thick. “Sam’s here.”
There was a beat of silence, then pure, bright joy filled her voice. “Oh, congratulations, honey. That’s wonderful news. Are you all okay?”
“We’re perfect.”
I leaned against the bed with my phone pressed to my ear, and finally let myself breathe. The second chance I thought I’d never get, the family I never thought I deserved, was finally whole—and this time, I was going to be there for every single breath of it.