Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I’m between the two of them, feet curled under me and a blanket over my lap.
It’s cozy and warm, but I’m restless. When Atlas notices and lifts a brow, I say, “I keep thinking about what you all risked for me.”
Boyd’s hand drops to my shoulder and squeezes. “You make it sound dramatic.”
I make a face at him, wide-eyed. Sometimes it’s hard to know when he’s being serious.
“I’d do it again right now,” Atlas says.
“Without hesitation.” Silas adds.
“And there’s no need to keep thanking us,” Atlas says. “We’re family.”
I lean closer to him, snuggling into his side before I reach for Boyd’s hand. He laces his fingers with mine like he’d happily hold on forever.
When I look over at Silas, he gives me one of his almost-smiles. Then he gets up, crosses the space, and sits on the floor, his back against the couch, his legs pointing toward the fire. He lets his head fall back against my knee.
“The next time someone tries to climb this mountain, they’ll regret it, too,” Boyd says.
Atlas tips my head toward him and kisses the side of my forehead. “There won’t be a next time.”
I lean into him and let my eyes close.
For the first time since Preston shook up my life and sent me running into a storm, the snowglobe truly feels peaceful.
Complicated, but warm and wonderful and real.
And ours.
EPILOGUE
Three months later, I’m sleeping in Boyd’s bed when I go into labor in the middle of the night. Being two days past the baby’s due date, I knew what signs to watch for, but I wasn’t expecting my water to break while I was asleep.
It takes me a minute to fully wake up and absorb what’s happening. Another minute after I tap on Boyd’s shoulder and tell him what happened, the house comes alive.
Before I can even change my clothes, Atlas is standing by with his phone’s stopwatch at the ready, asking about contractions.
“I … don’t think I had any yet,” I tell him. “I was asleep.”
“Dr. Navarro said to let her know how far apart the contractions are,” he says.
I rub sleep from the edges of my eyes. “You called her?”
Atlas nods. “She’s ready to come when you’re ready. When the baby’s ready.”
After that, time moves in weird ways. Mild contractions start less than twenty minutes later, and at first, it seems like things are going to progress quickly, but then hours pass, with nothing much happening at all.
The contractions eventually get stronger and come closer together. When the doctor arrives, I’m in my bedroom, which the men converted into a birthing room for the special event. They purchased a big rubber birthing ball and put an extra mattress on the floor, so I’ll have plenty of options for comfortable labor positions.
There are tons of pillows, blankets, and towels, a floor fan and a handheld fan, heating pads, and massage tools. They lined my dresser with water bottles, electrolyte drinks, and snacks, and music is playing from a portable speaker.
Dr. Navarro, with her typical cool, takes it all in but doesn’t comment.
I’m not sure how much time passes after that, but I do know that one or more of my men are always close, ready to help me in any way I need.
When the time comes to push, Atlas kneels next to me, and I can’t imagine having a more calming, reassuring presence at my side. “Breathe with me,” he says, his voice low and even. “You’ve got this, and we’ve got you.”
Boyd’s at my other side, anchoring me through each contraction, making me stronger than I am. As he encourages me, his voice is thick with emotion that he doesn’t try to hide.
Silas assists the doctor in any way that she needs, takes pictures and videos, and occasionally squeezes my arm in silent support. Although he carries himself with unaffected calm, his expression is far from its usual default detachment.
There’s concern in his eyes, but they’re mostly filled with awe and wonder, especially when the baby makes her way into the world.
It’s rough going near the end, but absolutely worth it when I hear her cry, loud and clear.
I think all four of us exhale at the same time.
“She’s beautiful,” Boyd whispers, his eyes glassy.
Atlas looks stunned, a look I’ve never seen on his face. “She’s got a healthy set of lungs,” he says when he finds his words.
Silas is frozen in place, but he swallows hard. “She’s perfect.”
“Have a name picked out?” the doctor asks, as she lays my daughter on my chest.
I don’t even register the question at first. My entire world has narrowed to the impossibly tiny, incredibly precious human who’s now with me.
The idea of taking care of her, keeping her safe, and helping her grow suddenly seems overwhelming, but then my view widens, and I remember that she and I will have the best support possible, no matter what comes our way.