6. Gage #2
The head was out and Delaney gave a whimper as her contraction ended. My eyes darted up to her face and I could see how tired she was, how much it had taken her to get here, to my useless self and now to the point of actually having a baby.
For some reason that thought calmed me. Because if Delaney was doing this, the least I could do was be here with her when she needed someone the most.
"How do I know if he's breathing?" I asked, peering closer and immediately regretting that decision.
"He'll cry! Babies cry when they breathe!" she shouted and then with a grunt her next contraction started and she pushed again.
The baby came fast that time and it was a close call to me missing him completely. But suddenly I had this warm, sticky bundle of baby goo in my hands and the responsibility of protecting this little life crashed over me.
Right. Crying. I could handle crying. I'd been making babies cry since I was old enough to babysit. This was just... a really extreme version of babysitting.
"Come on, little guy," I murmured, positioning my hands as best I could with one arm still in a sling. "Work with me here..."
I swiped my thumb over his little perfect lips, clearing away the stuff I couldn't bring myself to think about as I pulled him in close to my body. I cradled him gently, careful not to touch the umbilical cord, my eyes wide as I took in the sight of this brand new member of my family.
But he wasn't crying.
"Is he okay?" Delaney asked, her voice sharp with fear. "Why isn't he crying?"
My heart stopped. The baby was still, too still, and I could see the panic building in Delaney's eyes as my gaze flickered to her. This was what I'd been afraid of. This was why I wasn't qualified to be here, to be responsible for something this precious.
But then instinct kicked in, some primal knowledge I didn't even know I possessed. I gently rubbed the baby's back, the way I'd seen people do in movies, talking to him in the softest voice I could manage.
"Come on, baby. Your mama's waiting to meet you."
And then, like a miracle, he took a breath. A tiny, shuddering breath followed by the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. A cry that was strong and indignant and absolutely perfect.
"He's perfect, Delaney," I said, my voice breaking with emotion I hadn't expected. "He's absolutely perfect."
But then reality hit me like a freight train.
I was holding this tiny, perfect human being who had just entered the world, and he was still connected to his mother by an umbilical cord that I had no idea what to do with.
My hands were shaking, the baby was slippery, and I was terrified I was going to drop him or pull on something I shouldn't.
"Delaney, what do I do now?" I asked, panic creeping back into my voice. "He's still... there's still..."
"Just hold him," she said, exhausted but smiling. "Don't pull on anything. Just hold him until help gets here."
The front door burst open just as I was trying to figure out how to support a baby while not moving the cord, and suddenly the house was full of panicked voices and rushing footsteps.
"What happened? Is everyone okay?" Trace's voice, sharp with fear as he took in the scene.
"Trace!" Xander's voice right behind him, already moving into medical mode. "I've got my bag."
Trace stopped dead when he saw me holding the baby, his face cycling through confusion, shock, and pure wonder.
"Meet your son," I said, my voice shaky. "He was in a hurry."
Trace moved to Delaney first, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair. "You're amazing," he whispered against her skin. "Absolutely amazing. Are you okay?"
"I'm perfect," she said, tears streaming down her face. "We're both perfect."
Xander was already kneeling beside me, pulling supplies from his medical bag with practiced efficiency. "You did great, Gage. Everything looks good." He looked up at Trace. "You want to cut the cord?"
Trace glanced between me and the baby, then shook his head. "Gage should do it. He delivered him."
"I don't know how..." I started.
"I'll guide you through it," Xander said, already preparing the clamps. "It's simple."
Booker appeared in the doorway with what looked like every clean towel in the house, his eyes determinedly focused on the ceiling. "Thought you might need these," he said, holding them out blindly. "Not looking at anything. Just bringing towels."
Despite everything, I almost laughed. "Thanks, Booker."
With Xander's steady guidance, I managed to clamp and cut the cord without dropping the baby or passing out.
My hands were still shaking, but there was something profound about that moment.
Like I was officially welcoming Barrett into the world, cutting his tie to one life and helping him start another.
"Now we can get him cleaned up and to his mama," Xander said, taking one of Booker's towels and helping me wrap the baby properly.
The moment I placed the baby in Delaney's arms, something in the room shifted.
The panic faded, replaced by something warm and overwhelming and perfect.
Trace sat on the edge of the couch, his arm around Delaney, both of them staring at their son like he was the most miraculous thing they'd ever seen.
"Barrett James Farrington," Delaney announced, her voice soft with wonder. "Welcome to the world, baby boy."
Barrett. Named for her father, the man who'd loved and protected her, who'd sacrificed so much for his family.
The weight of that choice, the honor of it, hit me harder than I'd expected.
Because he'd made mistakes too. He'd gotten caught up in the same mess that I had and yet Delaney had been able to forgive him.
And even knowing what had happened, what we'd all been a part of, I still saw him as a man who'd done whatever he could to look after his daughter.
The paramedics arrived minutes later, confirming that both mother and baby were healthy, that everything had been done correctly. They praised my quick thinking, my calm under pressure, like I was some kind of hero instead of a guy who'd been terrified out of his mind for the entire experience.
But watching Trace hold his son for the first time, seeing the pure joy and wonder on his face, I felt something shift inside me. Something fundamental and irreversible.
I'd been part of this. Not the destruction this time, but the creation. The beginning of Barrett's story instead of the ending of someone else's happiness.
It was late evening by the time they were settled in the hospital room, the chaos of birth and medical procedures giving way to the quiet intimacy of new family life.
Blake had picked Cade up from school and brought him to the hospital.
I'd disappeared before they got there, not ready to face meeting the nephew whose life I'd irreversibly damaged on the same day that his brother had come into the world.
Xander came to get me when Blake had taken Cade home.
He didn't say anything about why I'd sat alone in the cafeteria instead of with my family in this joyous moment.
It gave me time to think. It gave me time to really look at all the choices I made and every reason behind them.
Being self-aware of all your own bullshit really wasn't a fun place to be but there was something enlightening about it, freeing even.
We walked back through the hospital in silence. Xander's hand clapped on my shoulder as we reached the elevator. A silent signal that he was there if I needed him.
When we arrived back in Delaney's hospital room, Trace and Xander disappeared to get coffee, leaving me alone with Delaney and the sleeping baby who'd already managed to change everything.
"You're thinking about leaving again, aren't you?" Delaney said quietly, not looking up from Barrett's face.
The question hit me like a physical blow. "I... what makes you say that?"
"Because I know you. And I know that look."
I stared at her, wondering how she could read me so easily when I wasn't even sure what I was thinking myself.
"It's not that simple," I said finally.
"It's exactly that simple." She looked up at me then, her expression gentle but firm. "Gage, we won't survive you leaving again. I won't survive it."
The words cut deep because I could see the truth in her eyes. This wasn't emotional manipulation or guilt-tripping. This was honest fear from someone who'd already lost too much.
"Delaney, you don't understand. I don't belong here. I want to. But I'm not good enough to be around you, around Barrett, around any of you."
"Says who? You?" Her voice was stronger now, the protective mother already emerging. "Because last time I checked, you just delivered my son safely when no one else was around to help."
"That was just... anyone would have..."
"No," she interrupted. "Anyone wouldn't have. Anyone would have panicked, called 911, and waited for help. You stepped up. You put aside your own limitations and fear and you took care of us when we needed you most."
I shook my head, unable to accept the praise. "That doesn't erase what I did before. What I helped Regina..."
"If the thing keeping you away is what you did to me, your involvement in me leaving Willowbrook, then it should be my decision. And I want you to stay."
"How can you want that? How can you forgive me for what I cost you?"
"Because holding onto anger doesn't bring back lost time.
Because you were seventeen and being manipulated.
Because you're family." She shifted in the hospital bed, her expression softening.
"And because that boy who helped Regina isn't the man who just delivered my baby.
That boy was scared and desperate and trying to protect his family the only way he knew how.
This man... this man stepped up when it mattered. "
I felt tears threatening and looked away, focusing on Barrett's sleeping face instead of the emotion in Delaney's voice.
"I'm struggling to accept that I'm good enough to be around any of you," I admitted.
"Then make amends by being an incredible uncle to my sons. Be the brother your brothers miss and want home. Stop punishing yourself and start living."
"What about you? Can you really forgive me?"
Her eyes filled with tears, but her smile was genuine. "I miss my friend, Gage. I miss the boy who used to make me laugh, who protected all of us kids when adults failed us. I want him back."
She reached for me then, and I found myself wrapping my good arm around her, both of us crying for everything we'd lost and everything we might still save. For the first time in eleven years, someone was choosing me. Not forgiving me out of obligation, but actively wanting me in their life.
"Barrett's going to need his Uncle Gage around," she whispered against my shoulder. "To teach him how to build things and fix them when they break. To show him what it means to fight for the people you love."
As I held Delaney and felt the weight of Barrett sleeping nearby, I felt something I hadn't experienced in eleven years. The possibility that I might actually deserve to stay. That I might be worthy of the love being offered.
I wasn't ready to believe I deserved happiness. I wasn't ready to think about futures or dreams or any of the things I'd given up the right to want. But maybe... maybe I was ready to consider the possibility.
Looking down at Barrett's sleeping face, I made a promise. Not to be perfect, not to deserve forgiveness I hadn't earned, but to show up. To be present. To prove through actions what I couldn't yet believe in words.
The laptop back at Booker's house still had those job sites bookmarked. Montana still needed bridge supervisors. The Gulf still had offshore rigs looking for experienced workers willing to take risks.
But for the first time in eleven years, running felt like it would be the biggest mistake of my life.
Maybe staying and fighting was finally an option worth considering.
Maybe it was time to learn what it meant to build something instead of constantly tearing myself down.