CHAPTER NINETEEN
Trevor
“Sit right there and I’ll bring you a drink.”
I kinda love how my mom still assumes I can’t fend for myself. On the other hand, I’m a grown man who’s lucky to still have the use of his body after everything I went through. “I got it, Mom.”
“Let me take care of you, Trevor,” she leans in giving me a hug. “Let me enjoy the fact you’re still with us.”
Hardly anything anyone else has said hit me the way these words from my mom hits me. I have to bite back the wave of emotion those simple words bring forth. I’m not even sure why this affects me more with such a punch in the gut. I watch as she goes into the kitchen before I turn my attention to my best friend, Renegade.
“How are you?”
He looks up from where he’s rocking the carrier my niece is sleeping in with his foot. Dark circles form half-moons under his eyes, and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t seen a razor in a week. “Tired as fuck,” he admits. “But I’ve never been happier in my life.”
I can tell, even with the haggard appearance, he has an easy smile and relaxed body language. “How much sleep are you running on right now?”
He tilts his head back, doing calculations in his head. “About three hours, which isn’t bad, but it’s like the fourth day of it. I let Whit sleep last night since I knew your mom would need help.”
I nod, proud of him, proud of the man he’s become, and hope like hell I can be the same kind of man. Maybe one day I can be the same kind of partner he is, sharing in the care of my own child. It’s something I’ve been thinking about since Stella was born mere days ago. Part of me wonders if I’m still too selfish, the other part would love to talk to Blaze about it. Either way, I know it’ll all come in its own time. Forcing things has never worked for me.
“How’s the leg?” he gestures to the brace.
“Good actually,” a grin spreads across my face. “I gave it a good workout last night. It was a little sore this morning, but feels good. The physical therapist told me one day it would all click and I would feel close to a hundred percent because the bone would be healing. I think I’ve gotten to that point.”
“Wipe that fuckin’ smug ass smile off your face,” Renegade throws a pillow at me. “I can tell by one look at you how you tired it out. You’re getting your rocks off and I’m grabbing a cat nap.”
I laugh, grabbing the pillow with one hand before it hits my face. “You wouldn’t change it, so don’t be a hater.”
At that moment, Stella starts screaming, a loud noise I’m not sure should be coming from such a little baby.
“Right on time,” Renegade reaches over, grabbing the diaper bag they brought in with them. “You wanna pick her up?” he raises an eyebrow at me. “She’ll scream until she gets this bottle.”
No time like the present to learn how to be an uncle, I guess. Getting up off the couch, I go sit over next to him as he rifles through the bag, pulling out a container, a bottle of water, and an empty bottle.
Pulling the carrier over next to me, I look at my niece. Her face is scrunched up and red, her blue eyes filled with water, and she’s screaming bloody murder. I reach down, picking her up out of the carrier. “Hey Stella,” I soothe, supporting her head and bouncing her in my arms. She’s so fucking small, I’m scared to death I’ll either drop her or crush her with what bulk I still have. “Why would a pretty girl like you make such an ugly face?” I tease, reaching out to wipe away some of her tears. She stops crying, glancing up at me as I continue to bounce her. “Remember me?” She tilts her head to the side, almost as if she’s contemplating whether she does or not.
Ryan’s shaking up the bottle, holding his finger over the nipple when all three women come running into the living room. I glance up, a grin on my face. “We got this, y’all can go back in there.”
Whitney leans against the doorframe, holding her phone out as I assume she takes a picture, a look on her face I’m well acquainted with. “Don’t start crying, sis.”
Ryan taps my bicep, handing me the bottle. “Go for it, just watch her head and she’ll do the rest.”
I put the nipple to her mouth, and just like Ryan said, she does the rest. Glancing up, I see all three sets of eyes from the women on me. “Why are you looking at me like I’m the first man to ever feed a baby?”
“I think we all have different reasons why,” mom says, her voice clogged with emotion. “Me, I worried I might never see you sitting in my living room again and to watch you doing that? It makes my heart so full, Trevor. Nobody had to get me a damn thing for Christmas this year, just seeing you alive and walking around is enough for me.” She turns around and walks back to the kitchen, wiping her eyes.
Blaze gives me a saucy smirk, hitching her hip out to the side. “Me? I just think you look hot with a baby in your arms. I mean not like we need one, but we can totally borrow her, right? Because you with your hair, your beard, your muscles, and the cutest baby ever? Total ovary exploding moment right here,” she blows me a kiss as I do my best not to listen to the chuckles coming from Ryan.
With expectant eyes, I glance at my sister. “Do you wanna give me your take on this?”
She walks closer to us. “You need to burp her if she’s slowing down. Ryan, hand him a towel just in case she spits up.” Once she’s close enough, she pulls Stella up, sits her on my thigh, and holds her head, instructing me on how to pat her back.
“My take on this? It’s one of the most emotional moments of my life and why I had to take a picture. Not only did I worry you’d never get to meet her because of the wreck, but I also think about all the times I cried to you about wanting a baby. I think of the night you saved my life with Stephen, and I think of what an amazing brother you’ve been to me. It’s just emotional, and you’re gonna have to let me have my emotions, Trev.”
She leans down, kissing me on the cheek, before she runs a hand over Stella’s forehead. “Love you, bro.”
“I love you, too,” I watch as she goes back into the kitchen, and it’s then I notice Ryan watching me. “Not you too?”
“I have to admit, I worried you wouldn’t be here for these parts of life too. For half the pregnancy, I was worried you’d be pissed because of what Whitney and I did. Then when I saw you in that truck, Tank,” he stops, shaking his head. “If anyone had asked me, I would have said you were dead. I worried about it, checked your breathing, and lost a few years off my life. It’s a monumental moment for you to be sitting here, burping my daughter.”
I’m quiet as I continue the job at hand, taking in how much everyone was affected by the wreck, and realizing for the first time that as I put myself back together, my family is doing the same.
Today is a damn good day.