Page 107 of The Voices are Back

I turned to see my son in the hallway at the very end, a bundle of blanket and baby in his arms.

I left the nurses behind and headed straight for him.

His eyes were light and bright with excitement as he all but shoved his kid into my arms.

I dropped Morr like a hot potato, and cuddled the baby close into my arms.

“Shit, son,” I said quietly.

Morrigan pushed past me, giving us a moment, as she headed inside to Bowie’s wife.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw them hug. But my eyes were all for my son’s baby. My grandchild.

“Boy or girl?” I asked quietly.

He moved to the side so I could enter, and I all but melted when the baby opened his eyes.

“Boy,” Bowie whispered, a little awe in his voice.

I grinned at my son. “Holy fuck. You’re in for a ride.”

“I understand now,” Bowie said quietly, his eyes only for his son in his arms.

I leaned down so that I could see the baby’s face.

He looked exactly like Bowie did at that age.

God, that felt like a lifetime ago.

“Understand what?” I asked, letting my fingers run through the red hair on the top of my grandson’s head.

“Why you went berserk when that man tried to switch me,” he said. “I’ve followed him all around this hospital. They’re all freaking out because I won’t stop following him. I make them nervous, they said.”

Fuckin’ good.

“Fuck ‘em,” I replied.

“You’re gonna have to watch that language,” Morrigan said, in the corner with Danyetta, who’d beat us to the hospital by only a few short minutes.

Danyetta giggled. “Agreed.”

“Triple agreed,” Bowie’s wife said.

I sighed.

“This kid has a father that plays professional soccer who is known to be one of the most aggressive in the league. A mom that plays professional soccer, and won the award for most yellow cards last year. A grandmother that is married to a district attorney that deals with only the most violent of criminals, and then me. A grandfather who’s in a motorcycle club, and runs a fishing charter service that sees mostly men all day long. Do you honestly think that this kid is going to not know the word ‘fuck?’”

“Well,” his wife laughed. “When you put it like that, I guess it does sound a bit silly.” She hesitated. “But maybe for now, we should at least try to act like we have our shit together?”

“You just said ‘shit,’” I pointed out.

She started to giggle, her face flushed with happiness.

She held out her hands and said, “All right, you’ve had him for like ever.”

“I’ve had him for at most ten minutes,” he said, but still he gave me his son. My grandson. Holy fuckin’ hell. I had no clue that this possessive, willing to protect the goddamn world feeling would extend to someone that was my son’s but…there it was. I’d protect this kid with my life, just like I would my own kids and wife. Hell, even Danyetta and Bowie’s wife now fit in that category.

“Where are the kids?” Yeti asked.

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