Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
CHASE
Elena was there for me in my hardest moments. I’d vowed to always be there for her during hers.
But, damn, she was squeezing my hand really fucking hard.
“Okay, Elena, big push,” Tori coached from the foot of the bed.
Elena growled like she was about to Hulk out and rip the bed in half. Her face was red, her hair stuck to her forehead, and if looks could kill, I would’ve been a smoldering pile of ash ten minutes ago.
“You’re doing amazing, Sweetness,” I said, trying not to sound like I was about to cry or pass out—or both.
“Shut up,” she gritted through her teeth.
Fair.
She bore down again, letting out a low, primal sound that shot straight through me. I wanted to scoop her up and shield her from every ounce of discomfort, but all I could do was hold her hand and stay rooted beside her. She was fierce. Terrifying. Beautiful. Mine.
“Head’s crowning!” someone said—I didn’t know who, because my ears were ringing.
“Oh fuck,” I whispered.
I peeked down and instantly regretted it.
“Yup. That’s… that’s a whole head. That’s happening.”
Elena let out another guttural yell, and just like that—
There she was.
A tiny, wrinkly, screaming miracle.
My daughter.
My knees nearly gave out.
“She’s perfect,” I heard someone say. Could’ve been me.
Elena was slumped back against the bed, breathless and glistening with sweat, but her eyes—those fierce, brown, battle-worn eyes—found mine.
“Go,” she rasped. “Be with her.”
I kissed her forehead and muttered something like I love you so fucking much then turned just in time to watch this impossibly small creature kick her legs and scream at the top of her lungs like she already had shit to say.
“She’s got lungs,” I managed.
Tori smiled. “You ready to cut the cord?”
I nodded, even though I absolutely was not.
But my hands were steady as they passed me the scissors, and when I snipped through that slick, silvery cord, a weird wave of awe and terror flooded my chest.
She was her own person now.
They wiped her down, wrapped her in a blanket, and started toward the bed.
“Let Dad hold her first,” Elena told the nurse, her voice tired but certain.
I froze. “You sure?”
She nodded, eyes glassy but full of that quiet conviction that always leveled me.
The nurse placed the bundle in my arms like that was a normal thing to do—like I was someone who knew what to do with a whole-ass baby. My arms curled around her instinctively.
She was so small. So warm. Her face scrunched up like she’d been born ready to judge everyone in the room. My heart cracked wide open, and something poured out—love, maybe. Or complete emotional obliteration.
“Hi,” I whispered, voice shaking as I cradled her against my chest. “I’m your dad. Sorry in advance.”
Elena laughed softly from the bed, and I turned so she could see us—me, holding this miracle, looking like a man who’d just had his entire existence rewritten.
I sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle the baby burrito in my arms. Elena leaned her head on my shoulder, and we both stared down at the tiny human between us like we’d just discovered fire.
“I think I might actually explode,” I said.
Elena smiled sleepily. “That makes two of us.”
“Sanitizer! Don’t forget the sanitizer. No germs around my baby.”
Everyone froze just inside the hospital room like I’d just yelled fire. The overhead lights cast everything in that washed-out medical glow—too bright, too cold for something this sacred. The faint beep of Elena’s monitors kept tempo with my heartbeat.
Mom held up her hands, mid-squeeze on a tiny bottle of Purell. “Already on it, sweetheart. Chill.”
“I will not chill. The CDC said—”
“Chase,” Elena murmured from the bed, her voice low and worn, cradling our sleepy newborn against her chest, “if you cite one more government health guideline, I will launch this perineal squirt bottle at your head.”
I clamped my mouth shut.
Dad and Elliot hovered behind Mom and Tessa like backup dancers in a very emotionally confusing flash mob. Neither seemed sure whether to hug, wave, or kneel before the baby like she was royalty.
“So… can we come in now,” Dad asked, “or is there another level of biohazard clearance required?”
I nodded solemnly. “Step slowly. Speak softly. Sit only when invited.”
“Jesus Christ,” Elliot muttered, ducking behind Tessa with a smirk.
They entered in cautious formation, spreading out around the room like they were approaching a live bomb—Tessa on Elena’s side of the bed, Elliot by the windowsill, Dad awkwardly lingering near the footboard, and Mom going straight for the throne.
“Oh… oh my gosh.” Mom gasped. “She’s beautiful.”
Elena smiled and gently shifted the baby into her arms. I hovered—because obviously I did—like a neurotic hawk with a caffeine addiction, ready to dive-bomb if my mother so much as breathed in the wrong direction.
“Sit down, Mom,” I said, already grabbing the closest chair like I was staging Les Mis: The Baby Edition. “Support your arms with the pillow. Cradle the head. Don’t breathe on her, just… near her.”
She rolled her eyes as she lowered into the chair. “Chase, I raised four children. I know how to hold a baby.”
I shut up.
But I watched. Every move. Every twitch. Every sniffle.
Mom settled back and immediately burst into soft grandma sobs—the kind that started in the chest and spilled out through her eyes in slow, silent waves.
And okay. Fine. My throat got a little tight, too.
“She’s just perfect,” she whispered, gently rocking her. “What’s her name?”
Elena looked at me.
I nodded, heart thudding so hard I could feel it in my teeth. “Elena picked it,” I said, trying to play it cool even though I’d cried like a bitch when she told me. “We’d like you to meet… Lucía Emma.”
My mom gasped again. Tessa let out a soft oh my god, and even Dad wiped at the corner of his eye like he thought we wouldn’t notice.
Elena’s voice was soft but certain. “She’s named after my mom. Or, moms, I should say.”
Mom blinked rapidly, holding Luci a little tighter. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, voice cracking again. “That’s… that’s the most beautiful gift.”
I stood off to the side, one hand on the back of the chair, watching the scene unfold like I was somehow outside of it—like I was trying to memorize every breath in case it disappeared.
Because this? This was it. This was mine.
Not the orchard. Not some family legacy I never wanted. Not the endless hustle to be like Elliot—perfect, reliable, steady. This was mine. A wrinkly little miracle wrapped in a hospital blanket and a woman who looked like she could both destroy me and rebuild me with a single glance.
This was what I was made for.
Tessa sniffled. “I swear to god, if anyone tries to take her away from me before I get my turn, I will throw hands.”
“As long as you sanitize them first.”