Epilogue #2
Still working on the other side of the curtain, the OB congratulates us. There’s beeping, and the anesthesiologist checks something on the monitor and inserts a syringe into Aurora’s IV. The neonatal team waits to whisk Eli away, but Aurora and I are in a bubble. The world can fuck right off.
She stares at our son through tear-soaked lashes, searching his face. “He looks like you.” Her tone is slightly slurred and weak.
“He has your nose and lips. He’s beautiful. You did it, baby.” My chest swells with pride. “You fucking did it.” I kiss her temple, her hair, her forehead.
A different doctor—the pediatrician, I believe—clears his throat, hovering with the gentlest persistence. “Dad, we need to take him to the NICU now.”
I press my lips to the baby’s soft cheek. I don’t want to let him go. I don’t think he should leave my arms. They take him from me anyhow, and suffocation builds in my lungs. My gaze remains fixed on Eli as they lay him in the bassinet.
“Go with him, Ethan.” Aurora’s voice fades, and her eyelids slip closed.
I’m torn. I wish one of the other guys were here to stay with her.
The anesthesiologist reassures me she’s fine—her blood pressure spiked, and they’ve given her some medication. They’re finishing the surgery, and I’ll see her soon.
With a heavy heart, I listen to Aurora and follow the pediatric team through the swinging doors and down the corridor.
***
Reece
Jax stares at the door, his elbows on his knees, his fingers steepled at his lips. He sits so close on the couch, his thigh is pressed to mine. He even rested his head on my shoulder a few times. Months ago, no one could touch him except Aurora. Now, he soaks up affection as if he’s starving.
I can empathize. Jax and I possess similar qualities. I hadn’t realized how alike we are until I came face-to-face with my fucked up family.
Meeting Lucas taught me to accept people I was conditioned to hate. Jackson showed me how to embrace my flaws and move forward. He never once gave me shit about my parents. He welcomed Harper and Danny without question. He could’ve been a dick to them to spite me, but he genuinely cares.
I put an arm around him and squeeze his shoulder. “Not much longer.”
We were safety-checked, tagged with bracelets to match the baby’s, and moved to a locked area near the NICU. That was over an hour ago, and Jackson has been coming out of his skin, alternating between pacing, questioning the nurses, and tearing up.
All we were told was Aurora was in recovery and the baby was in the NICU. If cleared by the doctor, he’d be able to stay with us in the specialized postpartum suite.
The door swings open, and a nurse wheels in a clear bassinet, Ethan close behind. He’s still in scrubs, his hair damp and tousled, his face tight with worry.
Jax leaps to his feet. I follow slowly, tilting my head to peer past them, searching for our girl. My stomach sinks. She’s still not here.
Ethan doesn’t wait for the bassinet to stop before he scoops up the fussing infant and cradles him to his chest. “Do either of you know if Aurora plans to bottle or breastfeed?”
“Both,” I answer. “So we can all bond with Eli.”
Jax leans into Ethan and gazes at the baby, his eyes glassy. He brushes a knuckle across the infant’s cheek. “He’s so tiny,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, a shaky breath escaping him.
Ethan’s nostrils flare. “Five pounds and eight ounces. His blood sugar is a tad low, but they won’t allow me to feed him without Aurora’s permission.” He shoots a harsh glare at the nurse, his jaw clenched.
Oh shit. Daddy mode has kicked in. Ethan is not about to let his son go hungry while Aurora recovers, and she’d want us to feed the baby.
“She plans to supplement with formula.” I slip my phone from my pocket. “She picked out a brand if needed. I have a picture.”
The nurse smiles politely. “That won’t be necessary.” After checking our bracelets, she retrieves a pre-made bottle.
Jax gives his boyfriend pleading eyes. “Can I feed him?”
“Of course.” Ethan’s expression softens. “Remove your shirt. The doctor said preemie babies benefit from skin-to-skin contact.”
Jackson yanks his shirt off, tosses it on the couch, and sinks into the recliner. Ethan carefully hands the infant over, and I help adjust the blanket. Eli releases a cute little cry and shoves his fist in his mouth. He’s so small; he looks barely bigger than my hand.
The moment the baby settles against Jackson’s bare chest, his face just…crumples. He drops his head and nuzzles Eli as silent sobs rack his body.
Ethan cups Jax’s nape and traces his thumb over his jawline. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”
He really is, with dark hair and perfect, delicate features.
Jackson nods and sucks in a deep breath to collect himself. Ethan gives him the bottle, his fingers trembling. He’s running on pure adrenaline.
The infant’s face scrunches in protest when the nipple touches his lips. “Come on, little guy,” Jax coos, gently trying again. “You gotta eat, bud.”
Eli takes to the bottle on his third try. Jackson exhales in relief and kisses the baby’s forehead.
The nurse hovers close by. “He won’t eat much, but he’ll want to eat often.”
“We got it,” Ethan grumbles, one hand on Jax’s neck, the other brushing Eli’s hair.
She steps away, giving us space and making herself busy stocking the bottom of the bassinet.
I get Ethan a chair then lean against the other side of the recliner. “You okay?”
His eyes meet mine, a scowl between his brows. “They pricked his heel and all kinds of other stuff. He was screaming, and they wouldn’t let me hold him. Felt like I was going to murder someone.”
I can’t help but smile. Wait until he finds out about circumcision.
“He shouldn’t go anywhere without one of us,” Ethan continues. “And watching them cut open Aurora… Jesus fuck, that was horrible. We don’t spoil her enough for this shit.”
“Where is she?” Something doesn’t feel right, and my stomach twists. “She should be here by now.”
He runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders tight with tension.
“Her blood pressure spiked after delivery before it bottomed out. She lost more blood than they expected. Nothing dangerous,” he adds when my posture stiffens and Jackson’s head snaps up.
“They’re monitoring her closely, giving her medication.
” He swallows hard, his throat clicking.
“They won’t release her until she’s stabilized. ”
Panic splinters in my chest. “I’m going to find her.”
I ignore the nurse calling after me and push through the door. The maternity ward is a maze of hallways and rooms, but all I’m focused on is finding the woman I’ve sworn to protect and care for.
A stern-faced security guard sits at a small desk, blocking my path to the surgical suite and recovery room. He points to a sign. “Immediate family only.”
My patience snaps, and I flash my bracelet. “I am fucking family. I should’ve been with her the entire time.”
The guard stands. “Sir, you need to calm down.”
Urgency surges through my veins. What I need is to lay eyes on her. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. If you don’t open that door, I’m going to do it myself.”
He scans me from head to toe, seeming to weigh his options against my six-foot-six frame.
“I’ll escort him,” a familiar voice says behind me. “He’s on her approved list.”
Dr. Hill swipes her badge, and I follow her down the hall.
“The preeclampsia caused some complications during delivery,” she explains. “We’re administering medication to prevent seizures and hemorrhaging.”
I make a noise of acknowledgment, my throat too tight to speak.
The recovery area is dimly lit, with partitioned sections and the steady beep of monitors. She pulls back the curtain, and my heart stops. Aurora lies curled in a ball, pale against the stark white pillow, her thick lashes fanning her cheeks.
She shouldn’t be alone like this, and I reach her in two strides. Carefully avoiding the IV lines and wires, I climb into bed beside her, just like she did for me when I was shot. “Te amo,” I whisper.
Her eyes blink open. “Reece,” she rasps. “I was waiting for you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her eyelids droop, her chest rises and falls. “My baby?”
“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—after you, of course.” I brush a strand of hair from her brow. “He’s taking a bottle from Jax right now.”
Her lips curve in a weak smile, and her eyes flutter shut.
I press a kiss to her temple. “You gotta get better. Ethan is a mess, growling at all the nurses. Jax is barely hanging on.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “I don’t feel very well.”
“I know, angel. Rest. I got you.”
Her icy fingers find mine. “Viking?”
“Yes, princess?”
“You’re never gonna let me have coffee again, are you?”
I scoff. “Never. Your blood pressure is too wonky.”
***
Aurora
I wake to the sound of tiny cries and soft snoring.
“Shh, little man. Let your mommy and daddy sleep. They’re exhausted, and the more tired your dad is, the louder he snores.”
I open my eyes to find Jackson pacing and rocking the baby. Ethan is asleep in the recliner, and Reece is passed out on the couch, sitting up. The hospital room is dim, with just a faint yellow glow from the baseboard lights.
“Jax, bring him here. I’ll feed him.” I grimace as I shift in bed. Each movement sends a jolt of pain through my abdomen, and my incision throbs under the bandages. The pain meds are wearing off, but I push past the discomfort, eager to hold and nurse my baby.
“Sorry we woke you.” He gives me that crooked smile.
“He only started fussing a minute ago.” Jax settles beside me against the pillows, Eli cradled against his bare chest. His hat is on backward, hair sticking out the front, his eyes heavy, but he’s beaming with happiness.
“You need to be careful with those stitches.”
“I’m fine.” I pull back the blanket to see my son’s sweet face—I can’t get enough of him—then untie my gown. “What time is it?”
“Around midnight. We held off visitation until the morning, since you came out of recovery late.” He carefully transfers Eli into my arms, helping me support the baby’s weight.
“Rocco arranged a catered dinner for the entire unit as thanks for dealing with us—well, for dealing with Ethan and Reece. I’ve been an absolute angel. ”
“For once,” I joke, resting my head on his shoulder.
It takes a few attempts for Eli to latch. The doctor says it’s normal, especially for a preemie, but eventually, he connects and starts to suckle.
I gaze at our baby, his tiny mouth working intently, his dark lashes lying on his dimpled cheeks, and every ache and pain is worth it.
“He’s actually here,” I whisper, afraid to break the spell of this moment.
Jackson gently strokes Eli’s soft hair. “I can’t believe he’s real. I refuse to sleep; I’m worried if I do, I’ll wake, and this will all be a dream.”
His tone is raw. I glance up, and his bright green eyes swim with tears.
“It’s real.” I press my lips to his, letting the kiss linger. “We’re not going anywhere.”
He rests his forehead to mine. “Ethan says I’m not allowed to pressure you into having another baby, and if you don’t want another one, I completely understand.
Eli is enough. But if you ever do, I want you to know, it’ll be different.
” His voice breaks, his Adam’s apple bobs, and his breath shudders.
“I won’t fuck it up, I promise. I won’t relapse.
I won’t be an asshole. I...I won’t do this to you.
I’m so fucking sorry.” His last words are barely audible, his body trembling.
My heart clenches. “Hey, stop.” I cup his face with my free hand and brush away the tears that escape down his cheek.
“This is not your fault, Jax. These things happen. I’m okay.
Eli is okay. You have so much love to give.
You’re going to be a great dad—to Eli, to any kids we have. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
After a while of us staring at our little miracle, he asks, “If you could get married any place in the world, all four of us, where would it be?”