I open my mouth to respond, but what comes out is a grunt of pain as I pee my maternity pants. “I think my water broke.”

Dotty’s face lights up and she gets to her feet as I double over. “OK, no worries. We have this.” She crosses the room and raps on the window, gesturing for the guys.

Thirty seconds later, Jasper comes through the back door and yells my name. He sounds slightly panicked. “What’s going on?”

“My water broke,” I tell him as excitement and anxiety roll through me. I’ve never been this anxious to meet anyone in my life.

Jasper goes completely still. “We’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby,” I reassure him.

The next few minutes are a flurry of activity while Jasper gathers the go-bags. Zac parks his truck as close to the cabin as he can manage. Then the five of us—soon to be six—are in the truck.

Jasper is beside me. He holds my hand through the drive, talking in a soft voice to distract me.

At the hospital, Emma May is waiting for us. I didn’t even realize that Jasper had called her, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Every time I had false labor, she showed up. She’s wildly enthusiastic about having her first grandchild. She’s made it clear from day one that she’ll do anything I need during the pregnancy and delivery.

I push until tears are streaming down my face, and I gasp that I can’t do this anymore. But I’m not alone. Jasper and Emma May are here, quietly reassuring me the entire time. Then one magical moment, it’s over and the most beautiful bundle is being pressed against my chest. She’s wrinkly and red and screaming, and I couldn’t be more in love.

“She’s perfect,” I sob to Jasper. I’ve never felt anything like this. My heart is too big for my body. With every breath, the love I have for this little girl gets bigger and deeper.

“You did it,” Jasper croaks through his own tears. He never thought he’d get this, a family of his own. I didn’t either and now here we are, a little family of three. Except there’s not just three of us, my addled brain realizes.

I wave over Emma May who’s been waiting quietly, giving us a moment to bond with our baby. “Come meet your first grandchild.”

Our bundle squints up at me, a scowl on her face that I swear reminds me of her daddy. She’s a precious mix of our features, a blend of all our best parts. Looking into her eyes, I know exactly what to call this girl.

I glance at Jasper even though I already have a feeling that he’ll love this idea. It’s a family name. “What about Emma?”

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, burying his head in my shoulder.

I focus on Emma May. “Would you share your name with the world’s most special girl?”

She swipes at her face. “She’s already got my heart. She might as well have my name.”

“You hear that, Emma? You’re our precious miracle,” I whisper to her. Unlike me and Jasper, she’ll never grow up doubting her place in the world. She’ll always be cherished, and she’ll know every single day she is loved.

Chapter17

Jasper

My eyes are dry and gritty, but I can’t look away. My little Emma isn’t even doing anything. She’s lying there in the nursery, sleeping peacefully, and this is it. This is the best feeling in the world—to know that your child is asleep while they’re warm, safe and loved.

Fuck, how do other parents do this? How do they let their kids go to nursery and school and college? Nope, that last one isn’t happening. My kid is going to be near me for the rest of time. I’ll defy death itself so I can watch over her every moment.

“You can come out of the shadows,” I finally say when the long moments have made it clear he’s content to stay hidden. I don’t want him to hide. I want Emma growing up around her family. I want her to know her uncles.

Whiskey moves so softly that I don’t hear him, but suddenly, his presence is beside me. We’re standing shoulder to shoulder, and I point to the bassinet with the world’s prettiest baby girl inside of it. I doubt I have to do that. I suspect he already knows exactly which kid is mine.

“Can’t believe you made me an uncle,” he grunts.

My heart lifts a little at his words. “Does this mean you’re ready to join the family again?”

The silence stretches between us, growing longer with every passing moment. I think again about the documentary I watched a couple of months ago on war veterans. One veteran explained that while his body left the combat zone, his mind didn’t. For years, he struggled to acclimate back to his life before.

I swallow hard, hating the pain he must be in. “It’s safe to come home now.”

Another silence lapses and this time, I don’t fill it. I’m not sure there’s anything I can say to help him.