"A boy," I whisper. "We're having a boy."
I knew already, somehow.
But seeing it confirmed—seeing him on that screen, alive and healthy and perfect—something breaks open inside me.
"Waylon," I say out loud. "His name is Waylon."
Garrett looks at me, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I smile through my tears. "Waylon Mercer."
Garrett is quiet for a long moment.
Then he leans down and presses his forehead against my belly, right where the doctor’s wand was a moment ago.
"Hey, Waylon," he murmurs. "It's your dad. I'm sorry it took me so long to officially meet you. But I'm here now. And I'mgonna spend the rest of my life making sure nothing bad ever happens to you or your mama again."
I run my fingers through his hair, tears sliding down my cheeks.
This is what I was fighting for.
In that cabin, when everything hurt and I wanted to give up, this is what kept me going.
The promise of this moment.
The promise of our family.
"Waylon Mercer," Garrett says again, sitting up. He's smiling now, really smiling, the first genuine smile I've seen on his face since before this nightmare started. "I like it."
"It's perfect," I agree.
The doctor prints out several pictures from the ultrasound, and Garrett immediately tucks one into his wallet, handling it like it's made of gold.
The others go on my bedside table, propped up against the water pitcher where I can see them every time I open my eyes.
My son. Our son.
We made it.
Later that evening, after dinner and another round of vitals and another session with Dr. Ganacha, there's a soft knock at the door.
It's Leah.
She's out of her scrubs for once, wearing jeans and a soft blue sweater, her hair down around her shoulders.
She looks younger like this.
More like the girl I used to know, before addiction and betrayal and years of hurt built walls between us.
"Hey." She hovers in the doorway, uncertain. "Is this a bad time?"
"No." I glance at Garrett, who gives me a small nod and rises from his chair.
"I'm gonna go find some real food," he says. "You two talk."
He kisses my forehead on his way out, leaving me alone with the woman I used to call my sister.
Leah takes the chair Garrett vacated, perching on the edge like she's ready to bolt at any moment.
