Rex
The second Lisandra Sommer was placed in my arms, it wasn’t like everything shifted. As if the universe had come together to create a perfect moment for my small family. But it was definitely up there as one of my top five of all fucking time.
Beside me, Rachel was cringing as the doctors did some whacked up shit to her body, and I was left cringing too because I knew she’d never let me live it down that, when I’d seen the baby crowning, I’d wobbled on my feet.
I’d killed men.
I’d tortured them.
My hands were dirty and they had no right to be holding this tiny precious body… and I’d fucking wobbled when I’d seen she was finally coming home to us.
Because giving birth wasn’t normal. Some people could tell me it was the most normal thing because everyone was born, but not to me. It was beyond science fiction and there was no fucking one who could tell me otherwise.
When they took Sommer away and weighed her and cleaned her up, returning the swaddled bundle back into Rachel’s arms, I sank down heavily in the armchair beside her bed.
A little over eight months ago, I’d been sitting here, in this hospital, next to someone else’s bedside.
A little over eight months ago, shit had felt hopeless.
I’d felt hopeless.
Lost.
But as I looked at Rachel, as I thought about what she’d gone through to get us to this point, as I pondered how fucking brave she’d been during labor, how she’d held up and done us proud by coming to the hospital when there’d been complications with the home birth—I knew I was found.
And that, because of her, and the girls she’d gifted me with, I’d never be lost again.