“It’s okay,” I assured him, reaching out to catch his trembling hand. “We’re both okay.”
“But the flare... and you were alone...” His voice broke, raw emotion stripping away his usual confidence.
“Not alone,” I corrected, glancing at Sterling who stood silently by the window now, watching us with that unreadable expression. “Your brother was here.”
Burke’s eyes found his twin’s, and something passed between them—a silent communication born of shared DNA and a lifetime of understanding each other in ways no one else could.
“Thank you,” Burke said simply, the words heavy with meaning.
Sterling nodded once, accepting the gratitude without need for elaboration.
I shifted slightly, adjusting the bundle in my arms. “Burke,” I said softly, drawing his attention back to me. “Meet your son, Brandon Callahan.”
The name had come to me in that moment of first holding him—a perfect blend of Burke and my own middle name, Daniel Brandon Jenkins. A new name for a new generation, free from the shadows of both our pasts.
Burke reached out with trembling hands, and I carefully transferred our son into his father’s arms. The look on Burke’s face as he held our child for the first time—wonder, awe, fierce love—broke my heart open in the best possible way.
“Hey there, little man,” he whispered, tears filling his eyes and spilling unashamed down his cheeks. “I’m your papa.”
Brandon’s tiny hand escaped the confines of the towel, his perfect fingers splaying against Burke’s chest as if reaching for his father’s heart. Burke made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, pressing a gentle kiss to our son’s forehead.
In that moment, watching the two people I loved most in the world meeting for the first time, I understood what all the pain and fear had been for—this perfect, impossible miracle. Worth every contraction, every moment of terror, every doubt.
Worth everything.
* * * *
The world had narrowed to this perfect triangle—Burke, our son, and me—nestled in the warmth of our bedroom as evening shadows lengthened across the walls.
I’d been moved to a clean bed hours ago, after Dr. Winters arrived to check that both Brandon and I were healthy. The commotion of the day—Sterling’s unexpected midwifery skills,Rawley and Macon’s panic when they arrived with Burke to find me already holding our son, Jojo’s tears when he brought food and baby supplies—had finally settled into this quiet, sacred moment.
Burke curled behind me on the bed, his chest warm against my back, his chin resting on my shoulder as he watched with fascination while I fed our son. Brandon’s tiny mouth worked eagerly at my chest, his dark lashes fanned against cheeks still flushed from the effort of being born.
I’d known, intellectually, that male omegas could nurse their babies. It was one of the biological quirks of our designation, covered in all the books and classes. But experiencing it was something else entirely—this profound connection, this ability to sustain the tiny life we’d created.
Burke’s hand rested warm and possessive on my hip, his gaze never leaving our son’s face. “He’s perfect,” Burke murmured for what had to be the hundredth time since he’d held Brandon. The wonder in his voice hadn’t diminished with repetition.
I smiled, leaning back into his strength. “Of course he is. Look at his genes.”
Burke pressed a kiss to my temple, his lips lingering against my skin. “I still can’t believe it. I was gone for three hours, and I come back to find you’ve given birth with my brother playing doctor.” His voice caught slightly. “I should have been here.”
“You’re here now,” I assured him, reaching back to touch his face. “And now do you believe me that having Sterling here is a good thing?”
Burke’s chest rumbled against my back as he chuckled. “Yes, dear,” he said, the teasing note in his voice belied by the sincere gratitude beneath it. “I’ll never doubt your judgment again.”
I settled more comfortably against him, adjusting Brandon as he finished feeding. It was still surreal—this tiny person who hadn’t existed outside my body this morning was now a separatebeing, with his own needs and rhythms and personality already beginning to emerge.
The labor and birth already felt like something that had happened to someone else, the pain fading into the background as my body began the slow process of healing.
What remained vivid was the moment Brandon was placed on my chest, that first eye contact, the immediate and overwhelming rush of love that had nearly stopped my heart.
“I was so scared,” I admitted quietly. “When I realized what was happening and that I was alone... it was terrifying.”
Burke’s arm tightened around me. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered against my hair. “When I saw that flare... I’ve never been so scared in my life, Danny. Not in combat, not in any mission. Nothing compares to seeing that signal and knowing you were in trouble.”
I turned slightly to see his face. His usual cocky confidence was nowhere to be seen, replaced by naked vulnerability that still surprised me whenever he allowed it to show.
“Sterling was amazing,” I said. “So calm, so certain. Like delivering babies in farmhouses was just another Tuesday for him.”
