7. Gage #2
"The delivery story's already becoming legend around town," Blake said with a grin, rocking little Amelia on her lap while she ate. "Marie at the bakery asked me three times whether it was true that you delivered Barrett with a broken arm."
"Technically it was a broken collarbone," Xander said with medical precision.
"Don't ruin the story with facts," Booker said dryly. "By next week, it'll be that Gage delivered twins while fighting off a pack of wolves."
"With his bare hands," Blake added.
"While blindfolded," Reece chimed in.
The gentle teasing, the way they'd already woven Barrett's birth into family mythology, made something warm and unfamiliar unfurl in my chest. This was what I'd missed.
Not just the big moments, but the ordinary ones.
The way family took your triumphs and failures and made them part of the shared story, part of the foundation that held everyone together.
"Can I hold him?" Cade asked, eyeing his baby brother with the fascination of an older sibling.
"Wash your hands first," Delaney said automatically, the way mothers did. "And sit back on the couch so you're supported."
I watched Cade carefully wash his hands at the kitchen sink, his movements serious and deliberate. When he settled onto the couch, Trace carefully transferred Barrett to his arms, showing him how to support the baby's head, how to hold him secure but not too tight.
"He's so small," Cade whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "But Uncle Gage, look how strong his grip is."
Barrett had indeed wrapped his tiny fingers around one of Cade's, and the sight of my two nephews together, one protecting the other with the natural instinct of an older brother, made my throat tight with emotion.
This was what family looked like. This was what I'd helped destroy and what had somehow been rebuilt without me. And now they were offering me a place in it, a chance to be part of Barrett's story from the beginning, part of Cade's childhood memories going forward.
"He likes you," Trace said, settling beside his sons with a smile that was pure paternal pride.
"He likes everybody," Cade said matter-of-factly. "But Uncle Gage is special because he helped him get born."
The simple acceptance in his voice, the complete absence of resentment or blame, was more healing than anything I'd experienced in eleven years. This child, who had every right to resent my existence, was treating me like the uncle he'd always wanted to meet.
"Cade's right," Delaney said gently. "You are special to Barrett. You'll always be the uncle who was there when he needed you most."
I stared down at Barrett's sleeping face, at Cade's careful attention to his little brother, at the family that had somehow made space for me despite everything I'd cost them.
For the first time that ever-present guilt I felt was being balanced by something else.
Something that felt dangerously like hope.
"I never thought..." I started, then stopped, not sure how to voice what I was feeling.
"Never thought what?" Xander asked gently.
"I never thought I'd get to be part of something like this again," I admitted. "Family dinners, new babies, kids who actually want to spend time with their uncle. I convinced myself I'd given up the right to any of it."
"You didn't give up anything," Trace said firmly. "It was stolen from you by someone who got off on destroying people. There's a difference."
"Regina's gone," Cade added with the finality that only children could achieve. "Pops divorced her and she can't hurt anybody anymore. So everything's okay now."
If only it were that simple. If only the damage could be undone as easily as signing divorce papers and moving forward.
But looking around at this table, at the family that had somehow survived and rebuilt itself into something even stronger, maybe Cade was right. Maybe sometimes healing meant choosing to focus on what you'd gained instead of what you'd lost.
"Uncle Gage?" Cade said suddenly. "Are you going to stay this time?"
The question hit me like a physical blow. Direct, innocent, without any of the careful dancing around the subject that the adults had been doing. Just a child asking whether the uncle he'd finally met was going to stick around to be part of his life.
"I..." I glanced around the room, seeing the careful hope in everyone's faces. "I want to stay."
"Good," Cade said with satisfaction. "Because Barrett's going to need you to teach him stuff when he gets bigger. And I need help with that tree house."
The casual assumption that I'd be around for Barrett's childhood, for future tree house projects and all the ordinary uncle moments that stretched out ahead, made my chest tight with an emotion I couldn't name.
For the first time in eleven years, staying felt like a choice I might actually be strong enough to make.
As the evening wound down and the family began gathering their things, Barrett started to fuss. Delaney was in the middle of helping Blake with something, so without thinking, I reached for him.
"Come here, little man," I murmured, settling him against my chest the way I had during those first moments after his birth. "Uncle Gage's got you."
He settled immediately, his tiny body relaxing against me with complete trust. The simple faith of it, the way this innocent child felt safe in my arms, was humbling and terrifying and absolutely perfect.
"He really does know you," Trace said quietly, settling beside me on the couch.
"How is that possible?" I asked. "He's three days old."
"Because you were there when it mattered," Trace said simply. "When Delaney needed help, when Barrett needed someone to bring him safely into the world, you were there. That kind of thing bonds people."
I stared down at Barrett's sleeping face, at the nephew who'd already claimed a piece of my heart I didn't know I still had to give.
"I'm scared," I admitted quietly.
"Of what?"
"Of wanting this too much. Of staying and screwing it up. Of being selfish enough to think I deserve another chance when I wasted the first one so badly."
Trace was quiet for a moment. "What if you didn't waste it?" he asked finally. "What if you were just seventeen and scared and trying to survive in a situation that was designed to destroy you?"
"Trace..."
"What if the real waste would be throwing away the chance to be part of this family? Part of Barrett's life, part of Cade's childhood memories?"
I looked around the room. At Cade showing Blake something on his phone with animated enthusiasm. At Booker and Reece quietly cleaning up dinner dishes. At Xander holding Amelia while she giggled at something only babies found funny.
At the life they were offering me if I was brave enough to accept it.
"I don't know how to do this," I said quietly. "How to be someone's uncle. How to be part of a family when I've been alone for so long."
"You show up," Trace said simply. "You make an effort, and you let people love you even when you don't think you deserve it."
The same advice Delaney had given me in the hospital. Simple words that felt impossible to follow.
"And if I mess it up?" I asked.
"Then we'll figure it out together," Trace said. "That's what family does."
As if it could be that simple. As if eleven years of running and self-punishment could be healed by choosing to show up, to be present, to accept love I wasn't sure I'd earned.
But holding Barrett, watching Cade's easy acceptance, seeing the way this family had made space for me despite everything... maybe it could be that simple. Maybe healing didn't require grand gestures or perfect understanding. It just required the willingness to try.
Barrett stirred against my chest, making the soft sounds that babies made when they were dreaming. Safe, secure, completely trusting that the arms holding him would keep him safe.
For the first time in eleven years, I wanted to be worthy of that trust.
For the first time in eleven years, I thought I might actually have a chance.