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Her rambling has me looking for tell-tale signs on her face to match the words, Myles is dead. She has red eyes, but if she had lost a son, she’d still be inconsolable. Numerous scenarios race through my mind, but I need answers.
“Ky, whatever it is, please just tell me.”
“Myles was out with the club when they ran into the assholes they were looking for, but they got him. He went off on his own, and by the time the others caught up, he was gone.”
My first instinct is to be grateful the news isn’t that he’s dead. My second instinct is that if he’s been taken, then it’ll be fine. It’s Myles. Mason and the club will find him, make the people pay who took him, and then he’ll come home. But the final instinct I have, and the one that takes root in the pit of my stomach, is that how many times will Myles get away with being a Lost Soul? Will it be this time he doesn’t make it home? I stumble back and sit down on the couch.
“Do they know if he’s still… alive?” I dare to ask.
“The club hasn’t heard anything to say he’s not.” She takes a long breath and adds, “Rick left with Leo and the others to ride south. I came here 'cause I can’t sit at home waiting for news.”
I try to work out the balance of her worry and her faith in the club to bring Myles home.
“We should go and stay at the club. Do you want me to help you pack a few things?” She crosses the living room and holds her hands out. I pass Thomas to her.
“Go get packed, and we’ll set off.”
I wish I could go back to the quiet moment I was feeding my son. Before I knew the love of my life was missing and before my imagination began conjuring terrifying possibilities of what could happen to Myles. I watch our children sleeping and fail to imagine a life where he doesn’t come home to us.
Mason will find him, and all this worry would’ve been for nothing.
Myles
It’s all gone quiet, too quiet for my liking. Most of the gangbangers left hours ago, a few remaining to watch over me. None of them have taken a single bit of interest in me. I’ve been left to suffer in silence. It hurts like a bitch when I take a breath, my ribs are indeed broken. To distract myself from the never-ending pain, I imagine what my old lady and kids are doing. Emma would’ve heard of my situation by now, and she’d be beyond worried. Grumps will try to keep her grounded, that much I’m sure of. She’ll have Mom, too, to keep her from thinking the worst on loop.
I close my eyes.
“One last big push, Emma. You’re doing so well,” the doctor urges.
Emma latches onto my hand, her nails piercing through my skin. No doubt I’ll be left with crescent moon-shaped scars, and I’ll wear them with pride—a constant reminder of my son coming into the world.
I missed Penelope’s birth mainly because the woman who pushed her out failed to tell me she was pregnant in the first place. I can’t call her a mother because she hasn’t been a mother to my daughter in any which way possible. The only motherly thing she ever did for Penelope was leave her with me. The day Emma told me she was pregnant was one of the best days of my life. I made a promise to her that I’d be with her every step of the way, and I didn’t let her down. I made every doctor's appointment and scan appointments. And when we were told we were having a boy, it was the first time I’d genuinely felt prideful happiness.
Emma lets out a deep roar, and then the sound of our son entering the world fills the room.
“Well done, Emma, you’ve done it. Your son is here, ten fingers, ten toes… and from what I can hear, a healthy set of lungs on him.”
I press my lips to her clammy forehead and then tip her chin up so I can claim her mouth.
“I fuckin’ love you.” I grin.
“Where is he?” she asks.
I look around, and two nurses are huddled over our son. Seconds pass, but it feels like a lifetime before they bring him over and place him in Emma’s arms. I sit on the edge of the bed with her and lay eyes on my son.
Apart from the gunk on his head, he’s perfect. He takes me by surprise seeing his eyes are wide open.
“Oh, Myles. Look at him,” Emma sobs, and I understand everything she’s feeling.
I’ve been running on less than three hours of sleep in the last two days, thanks to a long labor, but nothing could cause me to take my eyes off of our creation. The love I had for Emma before this moment was infinite; I can’t even describe how much more I love her now.
“Here, your turn.”
We reshuffle ourselves so she can pass him over to me, and besides his sister, he’s the most precious thing I’ve ever held.
“Hey, I’m your Dad.”
“Can you believe he’s finally here?” Emma squeals, holding onto his tiny hand.
