Chapter 5 - Ethan
"There's your baby."
The words echo in my mind as I stare at the monitor. I've seen ultrasound pictures before—Jackson showed around photos when Sarah's sister had a baby last year, and Vincent has Lucy's framed in the ranch house.
But this is different. This is my baby. My child.
The shape on the screen doesn't look exactly like a baby to me—more like a strange alien jellybean with what might be arms and legs. But that rapid heartbeat fills the room, and something shifts inside me, like tectonic plates rearranging my entire world.
"Do you see the head here?" Dr. Mason points. "And these are the hands. Sometimes we can see them moving at this stage."
As if on cue, there's a slight motion on the screen—a tiny arm seems to wave. I hear Naomi's sharp intake of breath and realize I'm still holding her hand, probably too tightly now.
"Is everything okay?" I ask, finding my voice. "Is the baby healthy?"
Dr. Mason smiles reassuringly. "Everything looks excellent. Strong heartbeat, good size for sixteen weeks. Would you like to know the sex, or are you waiting to be surprised?"
Naomi and I exchange a quick glance. We haven't discussed this.
"Can we know?" I ask her.
She nods. "I'd like to know."
"Well then," Dr. Mason adjusts the wand slightly, looking at the screen with practiced eyes. "It appears you're having a little girl."
A daughter. A little girl. Images flash through my mind—tiny pink boots, learning to ride a pony, teaching her to fish in the creek behind the ranch house. The intensity of emotion catches me off guard, and I have to blink rapidly to clear my suddenly blurry vision.
"A girl," Naomi whispers, and when I look at her, I see tears in her eyes too.
Dr. Mason prints several copies of the ultrasound images, explaining more about the baby's development as she wipes the gel from Naomi's stomach. I try to absorb everything she's saying about prenatal vitamins and the importance of rest, but my mind keeps returning to that tiny heartbeat, that little wave.
"I'll give you two a minute," the doctor says kindly, handing me one of the ultrasound photos before leaving the room.
In the sudden quiet, I examine the black and white image in my hand. It feels like I'm holding something precious and fragile, though it's just paper.
"That's our daughter," I say, still trying to wrap my head around the concept.
Naomi sits up, adjusting her gown. "Yes, it is."
"She has arms and legs and everything," I say stupidly, causing Naomi to laugh.
"What did you think? That I was growing a tadpole in there?"
I grin, grateful for the break in tension.
"I don't know. The books show these drawings, but seeing it for real..."
"I know," she says softly. "It's different."
I help her off the exam table, keeping a steady hand on her arm as she steps down. The small gesture feels important somehow—a tiny way to show I can be supportive, dependable.
"I'll let you get dressed," I say, turning toward the door. "I'll wait outside."
Naomi nods, but before I can leave, she says, "Ethan?"
I turn back.
"Thank you for being here today." Her voice is quiet but sincere.
"I told you I would be," I reply, meaning it more than I've meant anything in a long time.
In the waiting room, I sink into a chair, staring at the ultrasound photo. A girl. Vincent will be thrilled—he's been outnumbered with brothers his whole life and dotes on little Lucy like she's made of gold.
Aaron will probably start building a crib immediately—he's been looking for projects since finishing the ranch house renovations to accommodate more people.
Jackson will tease me about having a daughter who'll bring home boyfriends someday, and Cole...well, Cole will understand better than most, having stepped up for Luisa's kid.
I'm so lost in thought that I don't notice Naomi approaching until she's standing right in front of me.
"Ready?" she asks.
I nod, standing quickly. "How are you feeling?"
"Hungry," she admits.
"We should get some food then," I say decisively. "For her." I gesture vaguely toward Naomi's stomach, then feel embarrassed. "And you, obviously. Mostly you."
Naomi tilts her head, studying me with a small smile. "Are you asking me to lunch, Ethan Covington?"
"Yes," I say, then add quickly, "Just lunch. Not trying to push anything. Just two people who are having a baby together getting some food after an appointment."
"Very smooth," she says, but she's still smiling. "Lunch would be nice."
We walk out to the parking lot together, the autumn air crisp against my face. I notice Naomi pulling her jacket closer around her.
"Are you cold?" I ask. "I can turn up the heat in the truck."
"I'm fine," she assures me. "Just a little chilly. Where should we eat?"
"Anywhere you want. Whatever you're craving."
She considers for a moment. "Madeline's diner has really good grilled cheese. I've been wanting one all week."
"Madeline, it is," I agree, opening the passenger door of my truck for her.
As I walk around to the driver's side, I catch sight of my reflection in the window. I look exactly the same as I did this morning—same flannel shirt, same worn jeans, same Covington Ranch cap—but something feels fundamentally different. Like I'm standing straighter, breathing deeper.
Inside the truck, Naomi is already buckled in, looking at the ultrasound photo again.
"We should probably start thinking about names," she says as I start the engine.
"Names," I repeat, the reality hitting me again. "Right. Any ideas?"
"A few," she admits. "But nothing definite yet."
As I pull out of the medical center parking lot, I find myself wondering what kind of father I'll be to this little girl. Will I be patient like Vincent or protective like Cole? Or will I find my own way?
"You know," I say, breaking the comfortable silence that's fallen between us, "I've never missed an appointment to pick up Lucy from school when Vincent needs help. Not once in five years."
Naomi looks at me quizzically. "Okay?"
"I'm just saying... I can be reliable. When it matters."
She nods slowly. "I'm starting to see that."
"I want to be reliable for her," I continue, gesturing to the ultrasound photo Naomi is still holding. "For both of you, actually."
"One day at a time, Ethan," she says gently. "That's all I'm asking for."
One day at a time. I can do that. Today, I made it to the appointment. Today, I saw my daughter for the first time. Today, I'm taking Naomi to lunch.
Tomorrow, I'll worry about tomorrow.
For now, I just want to savor this strange new feeling—like I've been given something precious and unexpected. Something worth fighting for.
We pull into Madeline's Diner, a Cedar Falls institution with its chrome exterior and neon sign that's been flickering the same way since I was a kid. The lunch rush is over, so we easily find a booth by the window.
Madeline herself approaches—a stout woman in her sixties who's known every Covington since before we were born.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in," she says, eyeing me with mock suspicion before turning a warm smile to Naomi. "And with such lovely company. How are you doing, sweetheart? The morning pastries you sent over last week were divine."
"Thanks, Madeline," Naomi replies. "We have a bakery-diner trade agreement going," she explains to me. "I send pastries, she sends pie recipes."
"Best deal in town," Madeline nods. "Now, what can I get you two?"
"Grilled cheese for me," Naomi says. "With the tomato soup. And a chocolate milkshake."
"Smart girl, eating for two," Madeline says with a knowing wink that makes both Naomi and me freeze.
"How did you—" Naomi starts.
Madeline laughs. "Honey, I've seen five pregnancies up close and served food to hundreds of pregnant women over the years. You've got the glow, and you just ordered my famous pregnancy combo—grilled cheese, tomato soup, and chocolate shake. Dead giveaway."
She turns to me with raised eyebrows. "And you, Ethan Covington? Finally settling down?"
"Just feeding the mother of my child," I reply, surprising myself with how easily the words come. "I'll have the same as her, minus the shake."
Madeline's eyes widen slightly, but she recovers quickly.
"Well, well. Wonders never cease." She scribbles our order and pats Naomi's shoulder. "Congratulations, you two. Food'll be up in a jiffy."
When she walks away, Naomi gives me a look. "That was... direct."
I shrug. "Cedar Falls. News travels fast, and we might as well own the narrative."
"Is that what we're doing? Owning the narrative?"
"I just don't want you to have to deal with whispers and rumors," I explain. "People are going to find out eventually. You're already showing a little."
She places a protective hand over her stomach. "I guess you're right. I've been hiding it with loose clothes at the bakery, but pretty soon that won't work."
"Are you worried? About what people will say?"
Naomi considers this. "A little. Small towns can be judgmental. Unwed mother and all that."
"My brothers will shut down any gossip," I assure her. "The Covingtons still carry some weight around here."
"And what about you?" she asks quietly. "Are you worried about what people will think of the wild Covington having a baby?"
The question catches me off guard. I haven't really thought about how this affects my reputation. It's been all about Naomi, the baby, and my family.
"I don't care what people think," I say honestly. "Never have."
"That's not entirely true," she counters gently. "You care a lot about your image as the carefree brother."
Her observation is uncomfortably accurate. I fiddle with my silverware, buying time to respond.
"Maybe I did," I finally admit. "But things change. Priorities change."
"Because of the baby?"
"Because of the baby," I nod. "And because... I don't know. Maybe I was getting tired of that role anyway."
Madeline returns with our food, setting down steaming plates of perfectly golden grilled cheese sandwiches and bowls of rich tomato soup. Naomi's milkshake arrives in an old-fashioned metal mixing cup with a glass on the side.
"Anything else you need, you just holler," Madeline tells us before moving to another table.
Naomi immediately dips her sandwich into the soup and takes a big bite, closing her eyes in apparent bliss.
"Oh my god, this is exactly what I needed."
I follow her lead, surprised by how hungry I am. For a few minutes, we eat in comfortable silence.
"So," Naomi says eventually, stirring her soup. "Names?"
"Right," I nod. "Any favorites?"
"I've always liked Emma," she offers. "And Lily."
"Both nice," I agree, though neither quite feels right for our daughter. Our daughter—the phrase still feels surreal in my mind.
"What about you?" she asks. "Any ideas?"
I hadn't really thought about it until now, but a name immediately comes to mind. "What about Grace?"
"Grace," she repeats, testing it out. "Grace Harper Covington."
"Or just Grace Harper," I say quickly. "I don't want to presume—"
"No, I like it with Covington," she interrupts. "She should have your name too."
I'm about to reply when a heavy hand lands on my shoulder. I turn to find Max standing there, flanked by two other Cedar Falls firefighters in their department hoodies.
"Dude, where have you been?" Max asks. "I've been texting you all afternoon."
"Hey, Max," I say, suddenly aware of the ultrasound photo sitting on the table between Naomi and me. I resist the urge to slide it into my pocket. "Sorry, I had my phone off. Doctor's appointment."
Max's eyebrows shoot up. "You sick or something?"
"No, nothing like that." I glance at Naomi, who gives me a small nod of encouragement.
"We're actually hitting up The Rusty Nail tonight," Max continues, oblivious to the moment happening. "They've got that band from Billings playing. You in?"
I look at Naomi again, and a smile spreads across my face. "Can't tonight, Max. I've got other responsibilities now."
Max squints at me like I'm speaking a foreign language.
"Other responsibilities? What does that even mean? Since when do you have responsibilities?"
I take a deep breath, meeting my best friend's confused gaze. "Since I found out I'm going to be a father."
Max actually stumbles backward a step, his eyes comically wide. "You're going to be a what now?"
"A father," I repeat, and saying it aloud to someone outside our immediate circle makes it feel even more real. "I'm having a baby. Well, not me personally, but—" I gesture toward Naomi, who offers a small wave.
"You're serious?" Max demands, looking between us. "This isn't some weird joke?"
"Dead serious," I confirm. "It's time for me to be an adult, Max."
For a moment, Max just stares at me, then at Naomi, then back at me. The two firefighters with him exchange glances, clearly entertained by the whole scene.
"Holy shit," Max finally says. "I can't believe this is happening. Ethan Covington, a dad." He shakes his head in disbelief, then breaks into a wide grin. "I'm sad to lose my best wingman, but I couldn't be happier for you, man."
I stand up, and Max pulls me into a bear hug, complete with the hearty back-tapping that men do when they're having feelings they don't want to talk about.
"Is it a boy or a girl?" he asks against my shoulder.
"Girl," I reply, surprised by the pride that swells in my chest.
"God help us all," Max laughs, releasing me from the hug but keeping a hand on my shoulder. He leans in closer and whispers, "So the girl at the table—she's the mother?"
I nod, glancing back at Naomi, who's watching us with an expression somewhere between amusement and uncertainty.
"Damn," Max murmurs, not quite quietly enough. "Don't let go of a woman that gorgeous, Ethan. And don't fuck this up."
"Working on it," I assure him, then step back. "Max, this is Naomi Harper. She owns Sweet Somethings Bakery. Naomi, this is Max Davidson, Cedar Falls' second-best firefighter."
"Best," Max corrects, extending his hand to Naomi. "Pleasure to meet you officially. I've had your cinnamon rolls, and they're life-changing."
"Thank you," Naomi says, shaking his hand. "I've seen you around town, of course."
"Well, now we're practically family," Max says with his easy charm. "Since I'm this guy's brother in everything but blood."
"We should probably let them finish their lunch," one of the other firefighters suggests, pulling on Max's arm.
"Right, sorry," Max says. "But listen, we need to celebrate! Not tonight, obviously, but soon."
"Sure," I agree, knowing that 'celebrating' with Max will look very different now.
"I'll call you," Max promises, walking backward toward the door. "And congratulations, really. Both of you."
After they leave, I sit back down, feeling strangely lighter. Telling Max makes it more official, more public. There's no backing out now—not that I would want to.
"So that's your best friend," Naomi says, taking a sip of her milkshake. "He seems... enthusiastic."
"That's one word for him," I laugh. "He's a good guy, though. Loyal to a fault."
"And apparently very surprised by your news."
"Yeah, well..." I shrug. "I haven't exactly been father material in the past."
"You could have fooled me today," she says softly.
I meet her eyes across the table, momentarily stunned by the vote of confidence. "Really?"
"Really." She pushes her half-eaten grilled cheese toward the center of the table. "Want to split this? I can't finish it."
"Sure," I say, taking half. "Back to names. You really like Grace?"
"I do," she admits. "It's classic. Pretty."
"It was my mother's name," I tell her. "She was the only one who could ever get all five of us boys to behave just by raising an eyebrow."
"Sounds like a useful skill," Naomi laughs. "One I hope to master."
"You'll need it with a Covington daughter," I warn her. "Stubborn blood runs deep."
"Tell me about it. I've already experienced the Covington stubbornness firsthand." She gives me a pointed look that makes me laugh.
"Fair enough," I concede. "But seriously, what do you think? Grace Harper Covington, right? Or do you have other ideas?"
"Grace Elizabeth Harper Covington, maybe? After my mother?"
"Grace Elizabeth Harper Covington," I try it out. "Sounds like someone who could run the world someday."
"Or at least Cedar Falls," Naomi smiles.
As we finish our meal, sharing the last of her chocolate milkshake, I find myself imagining a future I never thought I'd want—playdates and school recitals, teaching a little girl with Naomi's eyes and my stubborn chin how to ride a horse, how to stand up for herself, how to be brave.
For the first time, that future doesn't terrify me. It excites me.