Page 13 of Reckless

Marley’s hands move. “I’ve got him…” The words leave her on a breath.

Slowly.

A tiny, impossibly small shoulder appears, followed by the rest of him in one slick, fragile movement that somehow feels both endless and over in an instant.

“Oh fuck! There he is,” Ro breathes out, one hand flying to her mouth.

Marley lifts him carefully, supporting the impossibly tiny body in practiced hands, already rubbing at his back as she clears his airway.

For the first time since this started, Sin looks away from Victoria, but only because he has to. His eyes find the tiny boy in Marley’s hands, and every piece of color drains from his face.

Victoria tries to lift her head. “Is he…”

Nobody answers.

Not because they don’t want to.

Because everybody is waiting.

The room shrinks until all I can hear is my own heartbeat hammering against my ribs.

He’s perfect.

He’s moving.

But he isn’t crying.

Marley rubs his back again.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Every second stretches so thin it feels like it might snap.

I stop breathing.

Sin reaches blindly for Victoria’s hand without taking his eyes off his son. “Come on, little man,” he whispers, and I’ve never heard hope and fear tangled together so completely in another person’s voice.

Another rub across the baby’s back.

Another endless heartbeat.

Then his tiny chest expands. His face screws up with magnificent outrage, and the first cry punches into the room.

Loud.

Furious.

Alive.

The sound detonates through the clubhouse.

The breath I’d been holding tears out of me so fast it almost hurts.

Victoria breaks first. A sob escapes her, raw with relief, both hands flying to her mouth as fresh tears spill down her face. “Oh, thank God.”