Page 28

Mom says gently. “Tell her we love her and we’re right here.”

He nods, visibly relieved to have something useful to do, then disappears through the doors again.

Lachlin has pulled people out of freezing water. He’s jumped from helicopters into seas rough enough to make most people sick just looking at them. I’ve seen him stay calm when everyone else around him was panicking.

This is different. He’s holding it together, but barely.

“He’s losing his mind,” I say.

Conlin nods. “Completely.”

Mom smiles into her coffee. “He’s going to be fine.”

“I’m more worried about the rest of us if he comes back with diagrams.”

That gets a laugh out of Dad, and the tension eases for a while.

The next couple of hours pass in a blur of bad coffee, half-eaten sandwiches, and everyone checking the doors every time they open. Lachlin comes out twice more, once to tell us Briar has started pushing and, predictably, enough about the baby’s position that even Mom finally tells him we don’t need all the details.

The next time the doors open, Lachlin barely makes it into the waiting room before Dad is on his feet.

“What?”

Something about my brother is different. He still looks exhausted and wound tight, but there’s a stunned kind of happiness underneath it now.

“He’s here.”

Mom lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, Sloane covers her mouth, and Conlin and I are both on our feet before Lachlin finishes crossing the room. He looks around at all of us with bright eyes and a smile he doesn’t seem able to control.

“Jack Liam Hale. Seven pounds, nine ounces. Twenty inches. Healthy and loud.” His voice catches slightly, and he clears his throat. “Briar’s good. She’s exhausted, but she’s good.”

Mom reaches him first, wrapping her arms around him before Dad pulls him into a hug of his own. Sloane nearly knocks him sideways when she gets her turn, and Conlin waits until they’re done before grabbing him around the shoulders and saying something too low for me to hear.

When Lachlin gets to me, I hug him without the usual back slap or joke to make it less serious. This is my brother standing in front of me a few minutes after becoming a dad, and for once I don’t feel the need to make light of it.

“You did good,” I tell him.

He laughs against my shoulder. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You survived Briar threatening you with ice chips. That has to count for something.”

“That part was scarier than it sounds.”

When we pull apart, I finally let myself grin. “You’re a dad now. That’s terrifying.”

“Shut up.”

“Uncle’s way better. Less responsibility.”

He smiles, and for the first time all day he looks like himself again.

We don’t all pile into the room at once. Mom and Dad go first, then Sloane. Conlin and I wait in the hall until Lachlin comes back for us.

Briar looks exhausted when we walk in. Exhausted and happy. Her hair is pulled into a messy knot that’s mostly fallen, and there are shadows under her eyes, but she’s smiling when she sees us.

Lachlin is beside the bed holding a bundle wrapped in a white blanket with thin blue and pink stripes, and I stop just inside the room.

I’m not prepared for the sight of my brother holding a baby, or for the way his entire body seems to curve around Jack instinctively, one large hand supporting his head while the other keeps him tucked close against his chest. Lachlin looks down at his son like the rest of the room has disappeared, and something tightens low in my throat.