Page 122 of Bonding the Band

It might have been the baby; it might have been the epidural.

We all nodded. That was a name we had discussed several times and seemed to keep coming back to.

Hendrix had suggested Bono at one point, but Meadow had instantly vetoed that.

“Forest Nicholas?” I asked. “Considering Christmas is just a few days away.”

Hendrix beamed. “Festive. I like it!”

Phin chuckled. “That’s my middle name, too! I’m more than happy to share it with our little Christmas nugget.” He leaned forward, lightly holding Forest’s tiny foot in his hand, admiring the tiny toenails.

I could already see Phin buying the baby a chicken nugget costume for Halloween. It would be adorable, if not hilarious.

Meadow sighed. “He’s absolutely perfect.”

“When can we have another?” Hendrix asked, his eyes locked on his son, a dopey loved-up look on his face.

Meadow snorted, turning her head to give him a stern look. “Mine is out of commission for the near future, so the moment you grow a vagina.”

Chapter 47

Phineas

“Oh my goodness. That’s a lot of opinion for someone so little.” I scooped Forest out of his bassinet, absconding with him out of the nest and down to the living room so Meadow wouldn’t be disturbed. “What’s going on, little man? Snack time?”

I sniff-checked his diaper, and when I found it clean, I diverted to the kitchen to warm up the breastmilk Meadow had pumped before going to sleep. Whoever came up with those fancy bottle warmers to take out the guesswork deserved a medal. Once it beeped to let me know it was ready, I took a bottle and the baby to the couch, turning on the Christmas tree with my phone. Forest stared at it, enraptured, the twinkling lights reflecting in his eyes.

He sucked contentedly at the bottle, and I marveled at the tiny human in my arms. I had never given a ton of thought to being a parent, and as the youngest in my family, I’d had no experience with kids, but the second I’d held Forest, everything changed. He had Hendrix’s blue eyes and Meadow’s dark hair. Meadow stared at him constantly, and I couldn’t blame her one bit, considering how often I found myself doing the same.

“How’s that milk treating you, my little Christmas tree? Probably not as good as the stuff straight from the tap, but Mama needs her sleep.” I hummed while he ate, tapping a rhythmic pattern against his booty. “I hope drums are your favorite. You’re definitely going to learn that first. Gotta wait for your fine motor skills to develop for those stringed instruments.”

I wasn’t as interesting as a Christmas tree to him, but I liked talking to Forest, anyway. How was he supposed to become a lyrical genius if we didn’t talk his little ears off?

I knew the peace and quiet wouldn’t last, between the natural volume of the pack and Forest singing us the song of his people at the slightest inconvenience, so I was resolved to treasure these sweet moments as often as I got them.

“Are you hogging our nugget?”

I turned to see Hendrix descending the stairs. He was still looking pretty rough, but damn was he trying. He had kept up with every appointment, prioritized his health, happily took shifts with Forest, and doted on Meadow at every opportunity. Fatherhood looked amazing on him. I wasn’t sure there were words I could say that would express how proud I was of him.

“If you all weren’t sleeping like the dead, I wouldn’t have the chance to hog the nugget,” I replied.

Hendrix sat down next to us, cradling Forest’s tiny head in his palm. “Hasn’t stopped being surreal yet.”

“You’ll probably have to wait for him to go through sleep regression and start running around for that. You’ll be so exhausted, you won’t even notice the magic.”

“I hope not.” Hendrix was silent for a long moment, just staring at Forest drinking his meal. “I haven’t been as open with you guys as I should’ve been over the years. I’m pretty sure Meadow and Forest saved my life.”

“Hen…” I said softly.

“I’m serious.” He took a deep breath, sweeping his thumb over Forest’s forehead. “You don’t even know how many times I was on the fucking edge.”

“You stayed, though. And now you have a mate and a baby. You did good, man. I’m proud as fuck.”

Hendrix let out a broken laugh. “How long do you think we can talk around him like that before Meadow starts yelling at us?”

“I think we’ll be good until he develops a concept of language. Do you want to burp him?”

“Please.” He draped one of the receiving blankets we had stashed around the house over his shoulder and collected our son.

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