Doesn’t matter if William looks like me.
He’s my son. My chosen family.
Just like his beautiful mama.
She’s spread-eagle on our bed, taking up the entire king-size mattress.
I can sleep on my back again.
It was the first thing she said when we walked upstairs, and she followed it with an attack of the sobs, then flopped onto the mattress on her back, and she hasn’t moved since.
Really should put the baby down.
The Pounders have our first match tomorrow. I haven’t slept enough. Need to get my rest so I’m at my best to lead the team. All of my hard work in physical therapy paid off, and I’m fully back.
In top shape.
Ready to lead the team again.
But William won’t be this little for long.
He yawns, blinking open bright blue eyes, and my heart melts all over again.
“Hi,” I whisper to him.
He screws up his face and smacks his lips like he’s looking for lunch, his big blue eyes the only other thing moving in his tiny little swaddled body.
“I love you,” I add.
He smacks his lips again.
Fucking adorable, perfect little guy.
The hospital was a zoo.
Deedee was there nearly from the minute we told her William had been born until he and Ziggy were discharged this morning. Roland came by every couple hours. Miranda too. Just a couple of the guys on the team.
Not all of them.
They picked three representatives to come and take pictures and report back to everyone else.
And now we’re home.
My little family.
Jessica peeks in the door and gives me the stink eye.
That’s about the worst she does these days. No more snorting. No more blowing dog drool all over me.
She still gets Fletcher on occasion, which I approve of.
“Want to meet your brother?” I ask her.
She wasn’t interested earlier.
Dog still has a little hell-beast in her, and she’s never a fan of being home alone for hours on end.
Not that she was alone much.
