Having Hope (The Blow Hole Boys Book 4) (24 page)

It was real.

Chet was awake … he was alive.

“Chet …” His name flew from my lips.

I was sure he’d disappear once I said his name. Or I’d wake up to find that nothing had changed, and I was still just sitting in a room with only the sounds of his heart monitor and respirator.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, his eyes widened, and his smile lifted as he tried once again to touch my face.

He was struggling to move his arms, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was he was awake, and he was smiling.

He tried to speak, but I moved closer, setting my finger against his lips and keeping him from struggling.

“It’s okay. Don’t speak,” I said.

I wanted to rush out and get the doctors, but obviously, they’d already been in with him seeing that his breathing tubes had been removed.

How had I slept through all of that?

Why did no one wake me?

I hadn’t talked to any doctors yet to know what was going on; I only knew I wanted to take the time I had with Chet to let him know how much I loved him. I almost never had the chance to tell him again. I was going to take advantage of every second.

I moved closer, skimming the wrapped gauze around the top of his head with my fingers.

“You’re awake,” I stated the obvious.

Again, he grinned, his smile a little stronger as the minutes ticked by.

He struggled to move his free hand once again, as he tried to lift it to touch me. I helped him, lifting his hand to my face and burying my cheek in his palm. His hand felt so warm … so alive against my skin.

“Little Bird,” he muttered, his voice rough and gritty. “I love you.”

Tears flooded my eyes, and I smiled down at him.

“I love you, too, Chet. So much. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to tell you that.”

“But you did,” he said trying again to lift his head and failing. “You told me every day. I heard you say it every day. It was the reason I fought the fog so hard to get back to you.”

I had told him every day how much I loved him … how much I needed him, but I hadn’t thought he could hear me.

“You heard me?”

The side of his mouth tilted into a grin that made him look like his old self. The man he was before a truck plowed into the side of him and almost took him away from us—before brain surgery and three weeks on life support—and I couldn’t help but smile down at him.

“Every word,” he whispered, flinching in pain. “And Little Bird?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for making me stay. Death tried to take me, but you held my hand. You kept me here.”

And at that moment, I was glad I’d hardly ever left his side. If my touching him was what kept him from leaving us, then I’d touch him every day for the rest of my life.

Nothing was more stunning than my wife pregnant with our son—the swell of her stomach and the glow of her skin. I’d watched over the last seven months as her body matured, growing a life inside. Her beauty was growing more astounding every day.

She was amazing, graceful, and selfless. When I’d first left the hospital after the accident, I was a mess, but she’d basically moved into the condo with me, taking care of me better than any nurse could and making me fall in love with her more and more every day.

She fed me on the days when I couldn’t lift my arms, and when I felt like giving up completely, which was often, she’d remind me everything I had to lose and all the greatness that was headed my way.

Simply put, she was an incredible woman.

As soon as I was able to move my arms properly, and the doctor released me to drive, I’d gone straight to a jewelry store to buy her a ring. I couldn’t go another second without knowing she was mine for the rest of my life, however long that might be.

I proposed on the beach. The sun had just gone down, and the evening was settling over the sand. And even though it was difficult, I knelt next to the water and asked her to spend the rest of her life with me. Her smile was radiant, and her tears were unexpected, but she’d said yes, making me the happiest man on Earth.

We were married a week later with only our adopted family in attendance. The boys stood at my side with smiles, and the girls stood by hers, holding back tears. It wasn’t perfectly planned. Every detail wasn’t thought out. There were no dresses and suits. There weren’t even any flowers, but it’s what worked for us. We weren’t planned, and every day was unexpected with us. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

So needless to say, I’d hit the lottery when it came to my soul mate. I’d watched her ripen, and my love for her grew as I watched her. I was in awe of the wonderful things she was capable of. She’d dealt with bouts of morning sickness, but she’d done so with a smile. Her tiny fingers and ankles would swell, and she’d be so tired that she could barely keep her eyes open, but still, she’d smile.

I was the luckiest man alive, and I showed her that every chance I could. I massaged her legs and feet when she was exhausted. I made sure every craving she had was satisfied, and when she was uncomfortable, I ventured to the maternity stores alone and bought every kind of pillow known to man to prop her up.

It was the least I could do considering everything she was doing. Nothing I could do would compare to the awesomeness of her, but I sure tried.

She rolled my way, struggling in her sleep to get comfortable with her expanding stomach, and I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close as my palm lingered on her round stomach. A smile tugged at the lips when our son kicked against my hand.

I never thought I’d experience anything so perfect. I never thought I’d live long enough to feel so much happiness.

But I had.

Thanks to a truck slamming into me, my tumors were gone and had remained gone. Doctor Patel did an MRI every ninety days and so far so good. I’d almost died several times in the hours after the accident, but each time, they’d pull me back from the brink, and I’d stayed, knowing a woman was holding me to the Earth, and a baby was on the way who needed a father.

And when I woke and saw Hope at my side, I knew she was my reason. She’d always be my reason until Death finally succeeded and I was no more.

The headaches were gone. I hadn’t had one since my accident. And because I wasn’t constantly high on pain pills or fighting the hammer inside my brain, I was able to truly appreciate my situation.

I was a man on the verge of greatness, and it had nothing to do with my drums … it had nothing to do with the band or my job. The family I was growing was my legacy. My son was now my greatest achievement.

I leaned over and pressed a kiss against Hope’s forehead and sighed in contentment.

Life was good.

“Oh, my god!” Hope yelled, sitting straight up like she hadn’t been asleep just seconds before.

“What? What’s wrong?”

She turned wide eyes my way, and the panic on her face sent me on edge.

“I think …” she started before flipping the covers back and showing me a huge wet spot in our bed. “I think my water just broke.”

I jumped from the bed and leaned over to help her from the wet sheets. We dressed, her occasionally grabbing her stomach in pain and making me crazy with the need to make it stop.

I wasn’t going to make it. If I was having issues with the tiny bit of pain she was experiencing now, then I knew I’d be out of my fucking mind once the real labor started.

Tiny had warned me a few weeks before when Constance had delivered their son. He’d said it was the most gruesome and beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He said that Constance had screamed in pain, and it had killed him not to be able to do anything to help her.

I was about to experience that with Hope, and it scared the hell out of me.

We made sure we had everything, including the bag she’d had prepared for the last two weeks, and then I drove like a bat out of hell all the way to the hospital.

“Slow down, babe,” Hope said, breathing through a contraction. “I’d like to make it there without getting into an accident.”

I slowed down for her, but I cussed every red light that caught us and honked my horn at every dumbass that pulled out in front of me going less than the speed limit.

By the time we pulled into the hospital, Hope was in so much pain she was having problems talking through her contractions. Things were moving so fast … too fast, and the fear I was experiencing was paralyzing.

Once they had her in a room and hooked up to monitors, things only moved faster. Her body was primed and ready, and within the hour, she was pushing our son into the world.

She was beyond exhausted; her sweaty hair plastered to her face, and her cheeks flushed from one hell of a workout.

“I can’t,” she cried. “I can’t do it.”

She’d been pushing, and between each push, she’d fall back on the bed out of breath.

“You can do it, Little Bird,” I said, pushing her hair from her face and pressing soft kisses around her temple. “You’re doing so amazing. God, you’re so amazing, Hope.”

And then she sat up, hooked her arms behind her knees, and pushed once more, expelling our baby from her body in the most extraordinary way and solidifying my newest role on Earth.

Daddy.

We both held our breath as we waited for the baby to cry, and when the chaotic room filled with the tiny, broken cries of our son, I couldn’t hold it back any longer.

I cried harder than I had in my entire life.

My shoulders shook with all the emotions I was feeling.

“You did it, baby,” I cried into the side of Hope’s neck. “You did it. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” she replied, her face still red from her overexertion.

She was crying, as well … the pure happiness and joy on her face were contagious.

And when they settled our son into her arms, and I looked down at everything my future held, I knew nothing in my life would ever be as perfect as that moment.

Nothing.

I stood to the side and watched as my wife looked down at our baby and smiled. She cried over him while repeating how beautiful he was. I agreed. He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“Do you want to hold him?” she asked.

I nodded, nervous and scared but ready to hold my baby boy in my arms and know that the moment was indeed real.

She settled his small, delicate frame in my arms, and he was like a tiny ball of heat snuggling into my embrace. I held him close and kissed his baby-soft cheek.

“I love you, Aiden,” I whispered.

And as I held my son and looked down into his soft face, I’d never been more grateful for my ability to see or my ability to move my arms, both things I’d ran the risk of losing.

“He’s perfect,” Hope said.

I looked up and let my eyes settled over the beauty who’d linked her life with mine. No words could describe the way she made me feel at that moment. No words could describe the depth of my love for her and our newborn son.

“You’re perfect,” I said, making her smile.

And she was. She was more than perfect.

*****

The boys and the Sirens showed up at the hospital an hour later. I’d called them before Hope started to push, but things progressed so quickly for her that they didn’t make it before she delivered.

The room filled with our family, all who’d brought flowers and balloons in honor of our newest member, and I stood to the side while everyone passed the baby around and went on and on about how perfect he was.

Of course, he was perfect … he was ours.

“He looks just like you, man,” Zeke said as he held Aiden in his arms.

Patience, his wife, stood at his side and smiled down at the bundle he was holding.

“He really does, dude,” Finn agreed.

“Poor kid,” Tiny joked.

I pushed at his shoulder and laughed.

Constance sat on the couch across the room with their newborn son in her arms, looking content.

I’d never felt so complete. I was a man with my own family surrounded by an even larger family—a family who was there from the beginning—a family I knew would be there until the end.

“My turn,” Mia called out, coming forward to take Aiden from Zeke’s hands.

She held him close and smiled down into his sweet face.

“He’s so adorable, Hope.” She sat him on the bed at Hope’s feet and began to peel back the hospital blanket he was swaddled in. “I just want to see how tiny he is.”

He kicked his wrinkled legs out and stretched.

“I think he needs his widdle diaper changed,” she said.

Hope moved to sit up, but I pressed my palm to her shoulder.

“Lay back and relax, baby. I’ll change him.”

I had yet to do it, but it didn’t look too hard.

I got a diaper from the stack and pulled the sides of the diaper he was wearing open to remove it. As soon as I pulled the diaper from his bottom, he peed all over me. The stream was high enough to go in my face, making the entire room burst out in laughter.

“Ah, man, he pissed right in your face.” Finn laughed.

I covered his tiny junk with the new diaper, blocking his flow from hitting my face further, and I used the napkins Lena handed me to wipe my son’s piss from my face. I couldn’t help myself; I laughed.

“Well, one thing’s for certain now.” Zeke laughed.

“What’s that?” I asked with a happy smile.

“Dude, he just pissed in your face. He’s definitely your kid.”

And I laughed harder because I couldn’t have agreed more, and that was fine by me.

My boy was already a hell raiser, and he’d just popped from his mother’s womb. Hope and I would have hell to pay over the next eighteen years, and I was looking forward to every fucking second of it.

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