They checked everyone over, pronounced mother and baby healthy, and loaded them into the ambulance for a precautionary trip to the hospital.
I rode in the back, holding our baby.
“What should we name her?” Libby asked softly. We’d picked out several names, but hadn’t decided on any one particular one.
I looked down at the little girl I’d helped bring into the world. Then back at Libby. “Emma.”
Libby smiled through her exhaustion. “Emma Grace. It’s perfect.”
Later, after Libby had been checked by the doctors and Emma had been weighed and measured and declared perfect in every way, we were finally alone in the hospital room.
Libby was sleeping, exhausted from everything, and I sat in the chair beside her bed with Emma in my arms.
She was so small. So fragile. Her tiny face was scrunched up, her fists waving, and she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Hi, baby girl,” I whispered. “I’m your dad. And I have no idea what I’m doing, but I promise I’m going to figure it out. Also, for the record, you can’t date until you’re thirty.”
She made a small sound, and I felt my heart crack open all over again.
When I’d first arrived at the ranch, I’d been convinced I was too broken for this. For love, for connection, for anything resembling a normal life.
Now I had a wife I adored and a daughter I’d delivered with my own hands.
“I’m going to keep you safe,” I told Emma. “I’m going to show up every day. I’m going to love you and your mom with everything I have. That’s my promise to you.”
Libby stirred, her eyes opening slowly. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore. Exhausted. Happy.” She smiled. “That was insane.”
“You’re telling me.” I looked down at Emma. “I delivered our daughter in our bedroom.”
“You did.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You were incredible, Beckett. When I was scared, when I didn’t think I could do it, you were right there. Steady. Calm. Everything I needed.”
“I was terrified.”
“I know. But you did it anyway.” She reached up to touch my face. “ Just like everything else. You do what needs doing, even when you’re scared.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just leaned down and kissed her.
When I pulled back, she was smiling through her tears.
“Think you’re ready for this?” she asked. “Midnight feedings and dirty diapers and crying for no reason?”
“She can’t be tougher than Wildfire.” I looked at Emma, her tiny face peaceful now, and felt something settle in my chest. “But, yeah. I’m ready.”
Because the truth was, I’d spent years believing I wasn’t meant for happiness. That the damage was too deep, the scars too permanent.
But Libby had proven me wrong about everything.
She’d shown me that broken things could heal. That trust could be rebuilt. That love could find you even in the darkest places.
And now we had Emma.
Our tiny, perfect miracle. “I love you both,” I said quietly. “More than I knew was possible.”
“We love you too,” Libby whispered.
And for the first time in my life, I actually believed.
