How’s Vincent?
Evie:
He hates his hat and just got hiccups for the first time. It’s adorable.
The knotin my chest eased a notch. A few feet away, my siblings were still parsing the worst day of the year into bullet points. I didn’t want bullet points. I wanted the warm weight of my son against my chest and the noisy world turned down to a whisper.
Jasper:
I’m gonna jump in the shower. I’ll be back to visit before my shift.
Evie:
You don’t have to. I’m sure you have places to be.
Jasper:
I do. With you.
I slid my phone into my pocket, strode through the kitchen without looking at my siblings, and headed upstairs to clean up.
The farm could have me later. My son needed me now.
Chapter 4
Jasper
My hair was still damp when I pulled into the hospital parking lot.
The nap didn’t happen, but I managed to choke down a couple of scrambled eggs before coming back. For maybe the first time ever, I was dreading work. Tonight I started my next twenty-four-hour shift. That meant twenty-four hours away from Vincent.
I shook off the negativity. At least I could get some quality time in now.
I wedged the vase of flowers into the crook of my arm and headed for the sliding doors. Jenn had helped me with the arrangement, thank God. This early in the season, we didn’t have much, but our tulips were beautiful, and she’d added a little greenery she’d cut to make it look good.
As I took the elevator up to the third floor, I focused on breathing. It was time to lock into dad mode.
My knees were back to trembling when I knocked on the door of room 312. But inside, the moment I laid eyes on my son, I cracked into a huge smile. Vincent was sleeping in that weird plastic thing on wheels the hospital provided. That kid needed a real crib. Or was it a bassinet? Hopefully tonight would be a slownight at the station and I’d have time to google all the baby shit we’d need.
Evie looked at me from behind heavy lids, her eyes still ringed in dark circles.
Smiling, I held up the flowers.
Her face barely moved, but she nodded.
When I handed her a brown paper bag from Bean There, Sipped That next and she eyed the croissant inside, her lips finally tipped up.
“And a Vermont-style cold brew,” I said, putting the cup on her table. “My sister said you drink it year-round?”
She nodded and reached for the drink. I felt a strange surge of pride, bringing her coffee and breakfast. Silly, yes, but after the events of the last twenty-four hours, it felt good to contribute.
Quietly, I approached Vincent and hovered over him. His tiny body was swaddled in the hospital-issued scratchy blanket, the blue hat in place. He was captivating.
My son. My child. I’ll never get over this feeling.
After taking a few pics, I navigated to my sibling group chat. Ignoring the messages related to damage control and the frantic instructions about police investigations, I sent them all. I’d read their messages at the station later. I wouldn’t let anything pull me away from this moment. So I pocketed the device and looked back at Vincent.
Forget the farm, forget the firehouse, forget everything else. This little guy is the only thing that matters right now.
