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My thumb brushes gently over her knuckles, warm and familiar. I can still remember the chaos of that night—the flood of nurses, the beeping machines, the sharp scent of antiseptic, and the mad scramble to prepare her for a C-section of not one, but two babies.

Evie gives me a soft, tired chuckle, her fingers lacing with mine. “Yeah, it’s quieter for sure.”

I settle my sketchbook in my lap without opening it. I don’t need to draw this time. I just need to be here.

“You look relaxed,” I murmur, studying her face—the slight sheen of sweat at her hairline, the rise and fall of her chest. Calm, but tense beneath it. The kind of calm that comes before a storm.

“For now.” She smiles gently. “Just wait until the real fun begins.”

My heart’s hammering like a fist against my ribs. Too loud, too fast. I’m not staying. I shouldn’t stay. She has Maddox. She doesn’t need me here for this.

“You’re staying, heifer,” she says without even looking at me, like she felt the thought leave my body before I could say it out loud. Her voice is soft but firm. “Did you really think I’d do this without you?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I motion toward Maddox, who sits on her other side, eyes laser-focused on the monitor. Every time a contraction spikes, his hand moves instinctively—massaging her hips and lower back, gentle but firm, grounding her with every touch.

“You have Big Guy,” I tell her quietly, voice tight.

Evie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and if he doesn’t keep a lid on that temper, they’re likely to toss his ass out.”

“I don’t like seeing my wife in pain,” Maddox mutters, not looking up. His hands are moving, steady, controlled. “Plus, I know the sheriff, I’ll be fine.”

Evie turns back to me, her eyes glossy with exhaustion and something deeper—something sacred. “Hey. Look at me.”

“The first time,” her voice thick now, “it was only me and you, bringing Charlie and Bash into this world. Come hell or high water, you will be here to help bring her into it as well.”

The monitor beeps softly. The world outside keeps spinning. But in this small, cold room filled with steady heartbeats and too much love for the walls to hold, I know⁠—

I’m not going anywhere.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I CAN NEVER GIVE YOU THIS

LOUISIANNA

Vivienne Lou Wilder arrives in this world weighing eight pounds, eleven ounces, and stretching twenty-two inches long. The hospital room is thick with the scent of antiseptic and warm skin, punctuated by the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the quiet, steady breaths of Evie.

Maddox sits behind Evie, his broad chest a steady anchor as he holds her up, their fingers tangled together like they are one. His voice is low, rough with emotion but steady, whispering fierce love and encouragement with every contraction. “You got it, pretty girl. Breathe baby, just breathe and push.”

I grip one of her legs, slick with sweat and trembling, and count down each push, urging her to dig deep and bear down. The tension in the room is electric, every muscle straining. Then, suddenly, she is here—tiny, warm, and perfect—resting gently on her mama’s chest.

In this moment, I’m completely undone. Her thick, dark curls spill across Evie’s skin, framing a round, delicate face that makes my heart shatter and rebuild all at once.

Maddox lifts his head from where it had been buried against Evie’s neck, his hands trembling as he reaches for her. Vivienne’s tiny fingers curl tightly around his massive one. The big, tough man is shaking, raw and vulnerable, and the nurse’s soft voice fills the room. “Welcome to the world, Vivienne Lou Wilder.”

Then I lose it—sobbing like a God damn baby, overwhelmed by the fierce, perfect beauty of it all.

I give them some privacy and quietly make my way down to the waiting room, where the whole family waits in a tense hush. My throat tightens, nerves twisting like a coil, and I take a shaky breath before pushing the door open. The room falls silent—every movement stops—and every pair of eyes locks onto mine, heavy with anticipation.

“She’s here,” I say, voice rough but steady, “and God damn, is she perfect. Eight pounds, eleven ounces, and twenty-two inches long.”

A ripple of relief and excitement washes through the room.

“Name? What’s her name?” Maggie asks, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide and hopeful.

I swallow hard, the weight of the moment pressing down as I choke out, “Vivienne Lou Wilder.”

Vic gasps, pulling Joe in for a tight hug. “Did you know? Did you know she was going to name that baby after me, you old leather bag?”