I sniff back the emotion and place a free hand on his cheek. “I know exactly how you feel.”
He closes his eyes for a brief moment before he leans down and covers our son’s head, face, and shoulder with kisses, not at all concerned with the gooey film. “I love you. I’ll always love you.” More kisses. “You’re perfect, Son. No matter what you end up being”—he clears his throat—“I’ll love you.”
Axelle whimpers and he reaches out to her. “Shit, kiddo.” He sniffs. “Come here, babe.”
She’s bawling and tucks under Blake’s arm, her hand going to rest on her little brother.
Blake kisses the top of her head. “I love you, Axelle Rose. I love you just as much as I love your brother. Understand?”
A sob rips from her chest, and she turns into his body. “I love you too.”
More tears erupt until we’re all crying and touching, whispering words of reassurance to each other.
This is what life is all about. It’s these moments, these few hours of euphoric joy that make up for years and years of torture.
Love.
Love is what makes the pain of the fight so worth it.
*
Blake
Things have mellowed out. We’ve all cried, and, fuck, I hadn’t cried in forever. After we all watched the baby get his first bath and a nurse assured us that Trip had been taken away and hasn’t been back, Axelle ran out to get Brae and Killian.
Trip is something we need to talk about, but now isn’t the time.
I’m mesmerized as Layla has our son to her breast. My chest feels tight at the beauty of watching the woman I love feed our baby from her body. There’s nothing more miraculous in the world. I’m on a high, floating above the world on a rush ten times better than anything life has ever given me. Better than fighting, my music, all of it.
I push a strand of hair from Layla’s eyes, and she tilts her head up. “He’s so sweet, Blake.”
“Yeah . . .” I run my thumb along her lower lip. “Just like you.”
Her cheeks flush and she smiles. “We need to name him.”
“I got nothing. I swore he was a girl, so I hadn’t even considered boy names.” I dip down and press a kiss onto his beanie-covered head, eliciting a tiny baby grunt that sounds a lot like back off, I’m eating. “Sorry, bud.”
“I was thinking since I got to name Axelle you should name him.” Her face scrunches. “But um . . . I’d avoid naming him after any members of your favorite bands.”
“Well crap.” I fix my eyes on the ceiling and shake my head. “You’re saying I have to abandon the dream of a son named Lars Ulrich Daniels?”
A tiny giggle vibrates her chest. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Hmm . . . I stare at his tiny face poking out of the human blanket burrito he’s wrapped up in. He’s feisty, strong, destined to be insanely handsome. My lips curl into a grin. Above all that, he’s heroic. His life alone is healing Layla’s heart and my relationship with my dad. Hell, even Axelle seems soothed in her brother’s presence. What name encapsulates all that?
“How about Jackson?”
She lifts an eyebrow, peeking up at me from under her long eyelashes. “As in Michael?”
“No, as in Braeden Jackson Daniels.” Yeah, hearing the name from my lips, I know it fits.
Layla studies our now-sleeping son. “Are you a Braeden Jackson?” A warm smile softens her expression even more. “We could call him Jack.”
“A fighter named Jack, guitar player named Jack, ballet dancer named Jack, they all work.”
She tilts her head back, hitting me with a smile that just about drops me to my knees, all soft and gooey and full of love. “It’s perfect.”
“You sure you’re okay naming him after my brother?”
“Of course. After all, he was here for the better part of my labor and—oh, Blake!” She shakes her head, her hand coming over her mouth. “I have so much to tell you.”
“Shh . . .” I run my hand over her hair, which’s a tangled mess. “It’s okay. I know about Trip.”
Her eyes pop wide. “You do? But ho—”
“You really wanna do this now?” I tuck a strand behind her ear.
The burn that should flare at the mention of Axelle’s biological father is absent. Nothing could touch the high I’m on. Maybe now is the best time to talk about it.
“I didn’t mean to go behind your back, but you were dealing with all that stuff with your family, and Trip wouldn’t let up. I just wanted to put everything behind us so we could move forward, ya know?”
She goes on to explain the Unavailable calls, Eve’s picking up the call, and realizing it was Trip. I can understand why his contacting her was intriguing enough to seek more information. Looks like ole Stew wasn’t totally forthcoming that day in Layla’s apartment when he spewed all that bullshit about how Axelle was conceived. Fucking asshole piece of shit.