Epilogue #2
Finally, the doctor checks me again and nods. “Okay, Heather. You’re at ten centimeters. It’s time to push.”
Time to push. Grant squeezes my hand and leans close.
“You can do this,” he says. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
The next contraction builds, and the nurse tells me to push when I’m ready. I bear down, gripping Grant’s hand and the bedrail, and push with everything I have.
“That’s it!” the doctor says. “Good push, Heather. Keep going.”
I collapse back against the pillows, gasping for air.
“You’re doing amazing,” Grant says, brushing my sweat-soaked hair back from my face. “So fucking strong. I’m so proud of you.”
Another contraction comes, and I push again. And again. And again.
Time loses all meaning. There’s only the pain, the pressure, Grant’s hand in mine, and his voice in my ear telling me I can do this.
“One more big push,” the doctor says. “Come on, Heather. You’re almost there.”
I gather every ounce of strength I have left and push. The pressure is overwhelming, unbearable, and then suddenly it releases.
And I hear it.
A cry. High-pitched and loud and absolutely perfect.
“He’s here!” the doctor says, lifting a tiny, squirming baby into view. “You did it, Heather. He’s here.”
My vision blurs with tears. Grant’s hand tightens around mine, and when I look up at him, I see tears streaming down his face too.
“Our son,” I sob. “He’s really here.”
The nurses move quickly, cleaning the baby and checking him over. Every cry he lets out makes my heart swell bigger and bigger until I think it might burst.
“He’s perfect,” one of the nurses says with a smile. “Ten fingers, ten toes, and a very healthy set of lungs.”
She wraps him in a blanket and brings him over to place him carefully in my arms.
I look down at my son for the first time, and the world stops.
He’s so small. So perfect. His little face is scrunched up, his eyes are closed, and his tiny fists are waving in the air. His head is covered with dark hair, and his skin is pink and warm.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “My sweet, sweet boy. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Grant leans over my shoulder and brings his hand up to gently touch the baby’s head. His fingers are so big compared to our son’s tiny skull, and he’s so careful, almost reverent.
“Look at him,” Grant says. “Heather, look at what we made.”
I can’t stop staring. Can’t stop the tears from falling. This tiny person, this perfect little human, came from us. From our love.
“He’s beautiful,” I say.
“He’s everything.” Grant’s voice is thick with emotion. “You did so well, Hurricane. I’m so proud of you.”
I look up at him, at this massive, tattooed goalie who looks absolutely terrified and awestruck as he gazes at our son. His eyes are red from crying, and his hand is still trembling slightly where it rests on the baby’s head.
My heart feels so full I can barely breathe.
“I love you,” I tell him.
He kisses me then, soft and sweet. “I love you too. So damn much.”
He looks back down at our son, and his expression shifts into pure, overwhelming love.
“This is my whole world now,” he says quietly. “You, April, and this little guy. Hockey matters, yeah, but this matters most. This is everything.”
A soft knock at the door breaks the moment. Margo peeks her head in, with April right beside her.
“Can we come in?” Margo asks, already beaming like a proud aunt.
“Of course.” I motion them over weakly with my free hand.
April rushes over to the bed, taking everything in at once. “Is that him? Is that my baby brother?”
“It is,” Grant says. He carefully lifts the baby from my arms and kneels down so April can see him properly. “Come meet your little brother.”
April leans in close, and I’ve never seen her face filled with so much wonder. “He’s so tiny,” she whispers. “And he has hair!”
“You can touch him if you want,” I tell her. “Be gentle.”
April reaches out with one small finger and touches the baby’s hand. His tiny fingers immediately wrap around hers, gripping tight.
April gasps and looks up at me. “Mom, he’s holding my hand!”
“He knows you’re his big sister,” I murmur as a wave of emotion hits me.
“I’m going to be the best big sister ever.” She’s still staring at the baby in awe. “I’m going to teach him everything. How to tie his shoes and how to ride a bike and how to play hockey like Grant. And I’ll read him stories every night and help change his diapers and everything.”
“Whoa, slow down,” Grant says with a laugh. “He’s barely an hour old. We’ve got time for all of that.”
“I know, but I want to start now.” April looks up at Grant, then at me. “Can I help take care of him? Please?”
“Of course you can,” I say. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
Margo steps closer to the bed so she can get a better look at the baby. “He’s absolutely perfect, Heather. Congratulations to both of you.”
“Thank you.” I reach out and squeeze her hand. “And thanks for bringing April.”
“Are you kidding? She’s been asking every five minutes if we could come yet.” Margo smiles. “So, does this handsome little guy have a name?”
I look at Grant, and he looks at me. We talked about names for weeks, going back and forth on options, but there’s only one that felt right. Only one that means what we want it to mean.
“Will,” Grant says, looking down at our son. “His name is Will.”
“Will,” April repeats, testing it out. “I love it. Hi, Will. I’m your big sister, April.”
“It’s perfect,” Margo says.
She comes closer, and her eyes meet mine as she brushes back my messy hair gently. She knows what this means to me. She knows how far I’ve come from that terrified single mother running from Steven to this moment right here.
I swallow the lump in my throat, overwhelmed by the happiness flooding through me. This life, this family, this love? I never thought I could have any of it. I never thought I deserved it.
But here it is. Here they are. Grant with his fierce protectiveness and gentle heart. April with her boundless energy and sweet spirit. Will with his tiny perfect fingers and loud, healthy cries. And Margo, who has been by my side through everything.
I’m so unbelievably lucky.
Grant catches my eye over April’s head, and the look he gives me is so full of love and promise that my heart nearly stops. He stands and carefully places Will back in my arms, then leans down to kiss me.
“I love you,” he whispers against my lips.
“I love you too,” I whisper back.
April climbs onto the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle me, and peers down at Will. “Can I hold him soon?”
“Once we get home, you can hold him all you want,” Grant promises.
“Really?”
“Yup.”
Margo gives my shoulder a squeeze and then takes a step back. “I should let you guys rest. You’ve had quite a day.”
“Thank you for everything,” I say. “For watching April and bringing her here and just… everything.”
“That’s what family does.” She smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.”
She hugs Grant on her way out, whispering something I can’t hear. He nods with his usual serious expression, and then she’s gone.
The room settles into a peaceful quiet. April is still giving Will all of her attention, and Grant has his arm around me while his other hand rests gently on Will’s blanket.
I look around at my family—at the people who make up my entire world—and I feel it deep in my bones.
This is where I’ve always belonged. Even before I knew it. Even when I was running and scared and alone, this is what I was running toward.
Home.
Thank you so much for reading Goal Line Hearts!