Page 108 of Catcher

I set my coffee down and move behind her just as she reaches for the orange juice. The second I touch her, everything in me settles so fast it’s almost violent. My hands slide around her belly, palms spreading over the hard curve while I press my chest against her back. Ruby melts into me on instinct, and our child shifts beneath my hand. She lets out a quiet little sound, and I feel it all the way through me—that tiny movement, small enough to miss, strong enough to rearrange whole parts of me anyway.

“There he or she goes again,” she murmurs.

I kiss the side of her neck slowly. Ruby relaxes into me fully, letting her head rest briefly against my shoulder while morning sunlight wraps around us. This right here is the shit I never thought I’d have again. It’s not perfect or easy, but real and warm against my chest.

I think about everything in our lives that has led to this moment, fucking thankful I have any of it to wake up to in the first place. The people who came after Ruby are dead. And between our people and Hades Outlaws, we made damn sure word spread through New Orleans, Baton Rouge, and every dirty corner in between that nobody touches our family and keeps breathing afterward. Things slowly quieted after that, as if the world were testing whether we are finally allowed to breathe again. I still don’t know if I trust that quiet because it can turn on you. But I’ve learned how to stand in it anyway.

Ruby’s brother, Robby, went into treatment three months ago and, against every ugly expectation I had, he’s still sober. Still attending meetings. Still holding down a construction job while slowly paying Ruby back every damn cent he stole from her, and every bit of debt he dumped in her lap. Some days I think the bastard is trying harder than he knows how to live with himself, trying to build something out of all that ruin because the alternative is drowning in it. Can’t say I blame him. I know too damn well what it looks like when a man is trying to survive himself. Doesn’t mean I trust him. Probably never will.

Ruby shifts against me suddenly, then freezes. I feel it instantly—the tension, her body going stiff beneath my hands. “You okay?”

She blinks. “Uh…”

“What?” A strange expression crosses her face. Then she looks down, and so do I.

Water hits the kitchen floor. For exactly two seconds, neither of us moves. Then Ruby whispers, “Oh my God.”

Everything explodes after that. “You’re in labor?”

“I think so?”

“You think so?”

“I’ve never done this before, Garrett!”

Fair point.

I grab towels. Ruby starts laughing and crying at the same damn time, which somehow makes my panic worse.

“Okay,” I say quickly. “Hospital bag. We need the bag.”

Ruby points toward the hallway. “Closet!”

I move fast, boots forgotten completely as I sprint down the hall. Adrenaline punches through me so hard my chest hurts.

Fuck. I grab everything I can carry and nearly shoulder-check the bedroom door on my way back. Ruby is sitting at the kitchen table, breathing hard now as I tear through the kitchen, opening drawers, looking for phone chargers. “You okay?”

“Stop asking me that!”

“Right. Sorry.” Another contraction hits, and she glares at me.

“Holy shit,” she forces air past clenched teeth.

My stomach drops so hard it feels as if I missed a step off a roof. I’ve been shot, stabbed, and beaten half to death, but none of that touches this. Nothing has ever terrified me more than watching her in pain and knowing I can’t take one second of it onto myself.

I crouch in front of her immediately. “Hey, look at me.” Ruby does. Her eyes are already glassy, bright with hurt and trust, and that combination damn near undoes me on the spot. “You’re okay,” I tell her firmly, even while my own pulse pounds.

“Garrett, calm down.” Ruby rubs her belly, laughing weakly. “You sound panicked.”

“I ain’t panicked.”

“Baby, you grabbed frozen waffles.”

I look down. Fuck. Still holding the damn waffles.

Ruby smiles through the pain, and somehow that steadies me more than anything else could. Then she starts laughing harder and immediately groans because laughing hurts.

I toss the waffles onto the counter. “Don’t judge me right now.”