I move toward the bassinet like I’m underwater. The card clipped to the edge catches my eye.
Baby girl Kendrick.
Holy shit. This is freaking REAL.
I stare at her for probably a full minute, her little pink lips moving. What kind of joke is this? This feels like a sick joke.
She starts to cry, and her eyes open, searching the room. My mom watches, her hand to her mouth, unsure what to do. She doesn’t make a move to get her, and I look around for the adult in the room and realize...it’s me. She needs someone.
I reach without thinking and lift her carefully, my hands shaking, and the second she’s against my chest, something cracks wide open inside me. She’s warm and smells like clean skin and something soft and new that I already know I won’t forget. The weight of her settles right over my heart, like she found her place. It’s a feeling I could never fully describe or forget.
“Hi there,” I whisper, because anything louder feels wrong.
The blanket slips and her tiny fingers curl around my thumb, warm and sure, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Like she already decided I’m hers.
“Oh,” I breathe. “Oh, hey.”
My legs finally give out, and I sit down hard in the chair, my pulse roaring in my ears. I stare at her face, the soft curve of her cheek, the way her lips twitch like she’s working through something important. Fear hits first, sharp and immediate. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how you keep something this small safe when the world keeps proving it isn’t gentle.
Then awe follows right behind it, just as strong because she’s here. And because somehow, impossibly, she’s family.
My mom’s voice echoes in my head, careful and tight when she said the word baby. The nurse saying my name like she wasn’t sure I’d stay. Like she wouldn’t blame me if I didn’t. Theidea that someone looked at this tiny human and decided I was the answer makes my chest ache.
And then Poppy’s voice slides in, uninvited and unavoidable.I don’t really want a family, Ollie—Owen’s enough for me.
The words land heavier now than they did then. At the time, I told myself I understood. I told her it made sense. She’s spent her whole life carrying more than her share. Wanting less feels like survival, not selfishness. And we finally come together and reach a place where we can live, not just survive.
But this changes things. This complicates everything.
What does this look like to her? Me walking out of the hospital with a baby she never asked for. A responsibility she never wanted. A future that doesn’t match the one she imagined. Panic curls low in my stomach. What if Poppy decides it’s too much? What if she sees me with this baby and walks away from everything we’ve just put together?
The thought of losing her hits hard but the thought of this baby alone in the world without parents makes my stomach turn.I look down at the baby in my arms, and my grip tightens without meaning to. The idea of putting her down makes my chest seize. I didn’t ask for this, and I didn’t plan for it. But the truth settles in fast and unmovable. Neither did her mother it sounds like. But how she could walk away from her is beyond me.
I’m not walking away from this baby.That doesn’t mean I’m walking away from Poppy either, becausePoppy has never left when things got hard. Not once. She stayed when my mom made things messy. She stayed when life felt heavy, uncertain, and unfair. She stayed when I needed her and didn’t know how to ask.
And I’ve stayed too.We’ve always shown up for each other. Even when it was inconvenient. Even when it cost us something. Especially then. We’ve always been there for each other.Always you.That echoes in my head, something we’ve always said to each other. And we mean it.
The baby shifts against my chest, a soft sound barely there, and my body responds before my brain catches up.I think of the memory of Poppy holding Owen when he was smaller, the way she looked exhausted and completely determined all at once. I think of how she didn’t plan for that life either, but she took it on anyway because someone needed her.
She understands this kind of choice better than anyone. She’ll understand. Will she? Yeah, she has to. She loves me and I love her. And if this baby is part of my family, she’ll love it. I hope.
The baby’s tiny fingers tighten around my thumb, her grip small but fierce, and something in my chest steadies.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, my voice breaking just enough to scare me. “I don’t know how yet. But I’ve got you.”
“What are you going to do, Ollie?” Mom asks from the doorway and I realize I’d forgotten she was there.
“I’m going to call my wife,” I say and I pull my phone out of my pocket.
“Wait,” my mom says. “Do you think you should find your father? I heard he’s in a lot of trouble with drugs these days.”
I glare at her. “Can you leave?”
She scoffs. “I’m only trying to help. The mother might be scared and she left because she didn’t...”
“Out,” I clip, glaring at her.
She stands there gaping at me.
