Three #2
My big hand engulfed Naomi’s much smaller one, and I rubbed my thumb against Felix’s downy cheek. “So good.” I kissed Naomi’s temple. “You rocked giving birth, sweetheart. You’re an absolute boss at birthing.”
“No thanks, not doing that again.” She shuddered, which I answered with my own.
“Yeah, that hadn’t been on my top ten list of best times…up until I got to see our son. He’s so tiny, but oh so cute.”
“He is, Adam. He really is.” We both stared down at him. That tight warmth burned hotter in my chest. Just like Naomi’s expression, this feeling was new…a protectiveness I’d never experienced.
“We’re…going to be okay, right?” Naomi asked.
Her big brown eyes sought mine. I swallowed hard.
My fears at parenting oozed past my barriers and I wondered, again, if Naomi and I had made the right choice.
My role model was a disengaged, shit father who’d pretended to raise his family.
If it hadn’t been for my older brother, Owen, I don’t know what would have happened to me.
Nothing good.
Before Owen came home from the Army, I was headed toward delinquency and possibly drug abuse.
Older than me by fifteen years, Owen was the one who used to rock me to sleep.
We had three other siblings who were between me and Owen in age, but all grown up by the time Owen discharged from the military.
He’d been so hardened, tough as nails, but always my hero. After spending less than twelve hours in our parents’ house, Owen packed me up and settled me in the back of his car, ready to do his duty to the baby brother he’d left behind four years before when I was still in diapers.
Owen had been my father figure: a stern man who didn’t like to show emotions but loved the physical release of cycling, running, bouldering, and skating. Anything to outrun the demons he’d lived through while deployed…and while raising me.
I wasn’t sure, because I never asked if those demons were from our home life or the tours of duty he’d suffered through in places he never spoke of.
Didn’t matter. He’d strapped skates on my feet and turned me loose on the frozen pond at the back of the property he’d bought a good thousand miles from the trailer we’d grown up in.
I’d been nine years old the day he put me in skates, and I’d flown.
For the first time in my life, I’d felt settled.
Truly comfortable in my body. When Owen took me to hockey tryouts, I found my purpose.
I cleared my throat. I could channel something closer to Owen. He’d been with me, guiding me, for years. “We’ll be okay. We’re going to do everything we can to make sure of it.”
Naomi nodded, but she remained uneasy, the same expression on her face that had been there the night of our first date.
“I don’t feel prepared to take him home,” she whispered.
I cleared my throat. “Neither did Cormac nor Stolly, but they’re doing great.”
Sweat gathered in my armpits, dripping down my sides. I hadn’t lied to Naomi; I’d bent the truth. That was different, and it didn’t mean I’d broken my promise to her.
I’d promised her the truth, always. But that didn’t mean I believed the words I’d just said, either.
“We don’t have diapers or cream or any clothes…” Naomi began fretting.
“Paloma texted me earlier while you were in the shower. Remember how she was planning our baby shower? Well, it happened at our place today.”
“O…kay,” Naomi said.
Felix fussed, and I tensed, unsure if I wanted to take him from her or I wanted to run away and hide from the terrible responsibility.
“So that means we have a crib and swing and changing table and clothes. Paloma said she washed them all, which I guess you’re supposed to do before you put a kid in them.”
Naomi nodded, hanging on my every word.
“And the CATS filled up the fridge and pantry, so we’re good for the next week. According to Paloma.”
“Alone, with Felix.” Dread crept over Naomi’s expression. I read that expression: she didn’t think she was ready to parent a newborn. I didn’t think I was.
But tomorrow, we’d take him home, regardless of our concerns.
We just got to walk out of this state-of-the-art hospital with a tiny, precious newborn. This world was wild. I was probably the least prepared for a kid of the guys on my team.
By the time I landed in Houston, I was the aging goalie with a too-big contract and way too many hookups that didn’t really fit into the vibe of the Wildcatters organization.
I’d known from that first meeting that Silas Whittaker, the youngest coach in the NHL, wasn’t interested in my off-ice antics.
Neither was my former coach…or the coach before that.
I’d realized that my search for intimacy and even release wasn’t the same as a search for family.
I didn’t know how to be part of a family, even if Owen had been a much better dad than ours.
It just wasn’t in Owen’s makeup to build up my confidence or tell me he was proud of me.
Owen grew up with a father who berated him, then spent more than a decade in the military with a CO who seemed to take a page from our father’s playbook.
I knew Owen loved me. Hell, he’d proven it by taking me in and putting up with my anger and dangerous partying when I was a teenager. He’d paid for my hockey teams and lessons and billeting and junior national teams…all of it.
“We’ll figure it out.” My throat felt like sandpaper and my hands sweat. Would we?
The same concern reflected in Naomi’s eyes. I squared my shoulders.
“We’ll be fine, sweetheart,” I said with more conviction—that I didn’t really feel. I smiled as I ran my hand first over her hair, smoothing down the wayward stands, then Felix’s soft head. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
She bit her lip as she nodded. “Every step together.”
“You’re done in,” I said. “Let me hold him for a couple of minutes, then I’ll put him in the crib. You need to catch some sleep.”
Naomi was so exhausted, she didn’t fight me. She’d worried more and slept less even before the birth, so the past couple of days just added to her deficit.
Later, when Naomi slid into a drowse, I settled into the rocking chair in the corner and held my son in my palms with my hands settled on my knees.
I marveled over his tiny but perfectly formed features.
He was just so fragile, so helpless, yet strong.
His chest rose and fell in fluttery breaths that reassured me even as the weight of responsibility and fierce protectiveness slammed into my chest. I stared into his little face and wondered if Owen had felt any of these big, overwhelming feelings for me.
I thought he must have. That was why my big brother had been so good to me, so patient with my teenaged sullenness and so willing to take on my hockey schedule and my attitude.
Once I got my big contract, I’d written him a check for all those years of support. He’d ripped it up, pissing me off, until he pulled me into a hug I didn’t want and asked me to get him tickets to any game he could make. I’d kept that promise and always would.
It was one of the first and only times I’d shown that I loved him back.
I should do more—show Owen better—how much he meant to me.
Having a kid had made me soft…and I liked the changes.
Naomi had been the catalyst, making me work to be a better man, a dependable lover and partner, then husband.
She’d taught me to express my affection, to use my words and my actions to communicate my mental and emotional state.
Felix would further my transformation, and what I’d once considered weak and foolish were the very emotions and actions that would prove my strength.
The world was weird like that.
“We have to send Uncle Owen some updated pictures now that you’re out of NICU and aren’t covered in tubes. He loves you, you know, but he won’t show it well. That’s just his way. He can’t help being a gruff bastard.”
I cleared my throat, annoyed I’d already ruined my innocent baby’s ears with profanity.
“Anyway, you have a lot of family who loves you…even if we can’t show it all that great. I’m going to work on that, little Felix. I promise you’ll always know I care.”
I leaned forward and kissed him right between his little eyebrows, above his tiny nose. He snuffled, then mewled. With a blink of those big, mud-brown eyes, I fell even harder, deeper in love with my son.
Glancing over toward my wife, I noted she was peering at us blearily, her eyes glinting in the weird, faint light of the evening hospital.
Naomi looked exhausted and exhilarated…a little freaked out.
I could relate…at least somewhat. I hadn’t labored to get Felix out of my body.
But yeah…a kid. A Holiday Miracle. One that was supposed to show up closer to Christmas, but this early emergence was better because he’d have more time to delineate between his big day and the holidays.
And we’d have more time with him.
The dank fear that I’d mess up parenting, thus my relationship with Naomi, reared up, but I shoved it down. I adored Naomi, and I loved Felix. Nothing could mess this up.
Except me.