When we made it through security, Brody was panting and laughing at the same time. “This is crazy.”
“Yeah,” I said, half-grinning despite the panic crawling up my throat. “We’re almost there though, okay? One last sprint?”
He nodded and we took off, making it to the gate with two minutes to spare. An air hostess scanned our passes and we tumbled into our seats in first class when we found them. I was sweating through my shirt and Brody was still vibrating from the rush, but we’d made it.
As I reached for my seatbelt to buckle up, my phone buzzed again, CC’s name on the screen again. I answered instantly. “Tell me.”
“Callum, she’s in labor,” Mom said. “It’s real. They’re admitting her now.”
In the background, I could hear Maisie’s voice, strained and breathless, but steady. “Thirty-seven weeks, three days. Yes, Westwood.”
“Mom, will you call Michelle?” I was already thinking five steps ahead. “Get a jet out to Michigan to pick her up. Whichever one can get there fastest. Maisie’s going to want her mom there once he’s born.”
“Got it,” CC said. “Do you want to talk to her?”
“Yeah. Please. Put her on.”
The sound shifted and there was a slight rustle. Maisie’s voice came over the line, small and tight. Probably between contractions. “Hey, love. How’d he do?”
“They won,” I said softly, leaning my head back against the seat and trying to keep my voice from shaking. “We just boarded, baby. We’re on a plane. We’re coming.”
She laughed weakly. “You don’t have to rush?—”
“The hell I don’t,” I cut in, and she laughed again, even through the pain.
“I’m fine, Callum. I’ve got your mom with me and this isn’t my first rodeo. Laney and Sadie are on standby. We’ve got this.”
“I missed Brody’s first breath,” I said, the words coming out rough. “I’m not missing this, too. I’m going to be there when he comes into the world. You hear me?”
There was a pause. Her voice softened. “I hear you, baby. Just be safe, okay? We’ll see you soon.”
“I love you,” I said, a tremor running through the very center of my chest.
“I love you too.” Her voice was tighter now, and once she’d hung up, I grimaced.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is really happening.
Brody leaned against my arm, watching me with wide eyes. “Is Mom okay?”
“She’s perfect,” I told him, forcing a smile. “Your brother is coming, though. Grandma is there, but we’ll go straight to the hospital when we land.”
As the plane’s engines roared to life, I gripped my son’s hand and stared out at the darkening sky. I didn’t care if we had to run from the airport to the hospital, I was going to make it this time.
Nothing, not delays, not chaotic traffic, and not the damn laws of physics were going to stop me from getting to her.
The flight stretched on and on, feeling much longer than the roughly ninety-five minutes it actually was. The cabin lights were dim, the hum of the engines steady, and Brody curled up beside me, his eyes on the side of my face.
“Dad,” he asked quietly. “Are you scared?”
I looked down at him, too perceptive for eight years old. I’d forgotten how deeply I’d felt everything at his age. So I smiled, not about to bullshit him. “A little bit, but I’m mostly excited. We just need to get there, you know?”
He nodded like he understood that mix of emotions, nerves, urgency, and hope all tangled up into a tight ball in the pit of his stomach. “I’m excited too. I’m going to teach him how to play hockey.”
“You’ll be the best teacher he could ever have.”
Brody’s grin grew. “Do you think he’ll be a goalie or a forward?”
“Oh, definitely a forward.” I leaned back in my seat. “Goalies are a special kind of crazy.”
He laughed, a light, easy sound that served to ground me. To remind me that even though this didn’t feel real, it very much was. One day, this little one was going to be Brody’s age, with hopes, and dreams, and perceptions all of his own. So I kept talking, both to keep him calm and to steady myself.
