Page 63 of Halfway to Hell
He needed air. He needed space. Mumbling an excuse, Texas slipped away and found a small private bathroom, locking the door behind him. The moment the latch clicked, the walls closed in around him.
His body trembled as the adrenaline, fear, and helplessness he’d been holding back finally broke loose.
He slumped over the sink, head bowed, hands braced against the porcelain, chest heaving with silent sobs. It didn’t last long, he didn’t let it.
But it was enough. Enough to split him wide open. When he finally lifted his head, his reflection stared back—wild-eyed, wrecked, but still standing.
Turning on the faucet, he splashed cold water over his face, the shock of it clearing his mind. Grabbing a handful of rough paper towels, he scrubbed his skin dry, forcing himself back into some semblance of order.
When he finally stepped out of the bathroom, his family was waiting for him.They didn’t need words.
One by one, they hugged him, clapped him on the back, and congratulated him on the birth of his son.
Texas let them. Because today, the people he loved most were still here. And that was worth everything.
Chapter 26
Texas sat stretched out in the recliner, the baby cradled against his chest. The TV glowed softly on mute, casting faint light across the dim hospital room. The only sounds were the steady blips and hums from the monitors keeping tabs on Sunday’s vitals.
She’d stirred earlier, barely awake, groggy from the surgery and whispered his name before drifting off again. The doctor had reassured him that some people took longer to come out of anesthesia. Still, it unsettled him. He didn’t like not knowing when she’d wake fully. He needed her to be okay.
He’d told his family to go home, promised to call them the next day when Sunday was ready for visitors. Right now, he didn’t want the crowd. Didn’t want the questions or the hovering or the eager arms reaching for the baby. This was their time—just the three of them.
When the nurse came in and gently offered to take the baby to the nursery, he shook his head without hesitation. No way. He wasn’t about to let Sunday wake up and find their son gone. She needed to see him. Needed to know he was here, safe.
Now, with his eyes closed and his head resting back, Texas breathed in the newborn scent of his son. He kept the baby swaddled tight to his chest, one hand splayed protectively over the little bundle as they both slept, waiting for Sunday to wake up.
Sunday came awake slowly, her mind foggy as she tried to piece together where she was. Then it hit her, the hospital, the baby, the surgery. Her hands flew to her stomach. It felt flat. Smaller.
Panic surged as she tried to sit up, her breath catching. Again, her hands pressed against her abdomen, searching for reassurance that wasn’t there.
“Texas?” she rasped.
At the sound of his name, he opened his eyes and saw her watching him, fear written across her face.
“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice was gentle, steady.
He stood and crossed the short distance to her bed. “Shhh, everything’s fine,” he said softly, shifting the bundled newborn in his arms. “Look, he’s fine.”
“He?” her voice cracked, eyes locked on the tiny bundle. “We have a baby boy?”
Texas smiled, emotion catching in his throat. “We do. You did so good, Sunday. He’s perfect.”
She stared at the baby in his arms—theirbaby. They hadn’t found out the gender during the pregnancy, wanting to be surprised.
It was worth the wait.
“Would you like to hold our son?” Texas asked, his voice thick with love as he moved closer to the bed.
“Yes, please,” she whispered.
Texas grabbed the remote and adjusted the bed slowly, raising her up so she could sit comfortably. Then he hit the call button to alert the nurses that Sunday was awake—finally.
Carefully, he leaned in and placed their son in her arms, one hand steadying the baby while the other supported Sunday’s elbow. He hovered, just in case she needed help.
“Can you place a pillow under my arm, please?” she asked softly, her gaze locked on their son.
“Yep, I can do that,” he murmured, grabbing one from the nearby chair and tucking it gently beneath her arm.
