I thought about my grandmother, laboring in this same house fifty years ago. Had she been scared? Had she gripped this same couch and wondered if she could do it?
She’d never said. Gran wasn’t the type to talk about fear. She just endured things and moved forward.
I thought about my mother, alone in a hospital room, bringing me into the world. My father had been in town. He just hadn’t come.
Gran told me that once, her voice careful and flat.He showed up after, Gracie. Some men are like that. After the hard part.
After Mom had already done it alone.
I thought about Owen, who might be running into a burning building right now. Pulling a family to safety.
He was doing what he’d always done: showing up for people who needed him.
And he would come to me.
When the fire was out, when the family was safe, he would come.
Even if he didn’t make it in time—even if Hope arrived before he got here—I would never really be alone again. That was the promise we’d made to each other. That was what choosing meant.
Another contraction came. I breathed through it, Tina’s voice steady in my ear.
“Ambulance is ten minutes out,” she said. “You’re doing great, Grace.”
Ten minutes.
I could do ten minutes.
The contraction faded. I slumped against the couch, sweat beading on my forehead, my whole body trembling.
Then I heard it.
Tires on gravel. Fast—too fast—spraying stones against the side of the house. A door slamming. Footsteps running, heavy boots on the porch steps.
The front door burst open.
Owen stood in the doorway.
Half in his turnout gear, smelling like smoke and cold air.
His eyes found mine across the room. Wild. Barely controlled panic beneath the surface.
“I’m here,” he said.
He crossed the room in three strides, dropping to his knees beside the couch. His hands found my face, my shoulders, my belly—checking me over like he couldn’t believe I was real.
“I’m here. I’ve got you.”
I laughed. Or cried. I couldn’t tell which. Maybe both.
“The fire?—”
“Cal pulled me off.” His voice was rough, scraped raw. “Said you called. Said the baby was coming.” His hands were shaking against my face. “I broke about fifteen traffic laws getting here. Ran three red lights.”
“There was a family?—”
“The team will take care of them.” He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath ragged. “The moment Cal told me, I couldn’t—I just ran. Left my gear, left everything. I couldn’t think about anything except getting to you.”
His hands were still shaking.
