Madison snorted. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But she was glowing yesterday.”
I sat beside her on the couch and handed her the coffee. “She deserves to glow. After everything, she deserves good things.”
Madison nodded, her face softening. “She does.”
We sat silently for a while, the weight of that truth settling between us. Then I looked at her, and something in her expression shifted. Her usual spark dimmed for just a second.
“What is it?”
She hesitated. “I think I’m scared.”
“Of the birth?”
She nodded. “Of the birth. Of raising her alone. Of loving someone so much and still not knowing if I’m enough.”
I reached for her hand. “You are, Madison. You’re more than enough. And you’re not alone, okay? You’ve got people who love you. Me. Blair. Everyone in this town who knows you.”
She blinked fast, then nodded. “Thank you.”
And I meant it. Because no matter what this next chapter looked like, for Madison, for Blair, for me, I was sure of one thing. I was in it. I was all in.
Even when the past crept back in. Even when the ghosts had names.
Chapter 20
Blair
A few days later, the late afternoon light filtered through the hospital windows, casting a golden haze across the waiting room. I paced the floor, heart pounding, my fingers gripping the paper cup of lukewarm coffee that Greyson had fetched for me an hour ago.
“She’s going to be okay,” he said softly, coming up behind me. His hand brushed against the small of my back, gentle, reassuring. “Madison’s strong.”
“I know,” I whispered. “It’s just… she’s been through so much. And now...”
“She has you,” he interrupted, his thumb grazing my lower back. “That makes a difference.”
I turned to face him, surprised by the conviction in his voice. His eyes were steady, grounding. “You’ve been here this whole time. Since she went into labor.”
“Of course I have. She’s family now. And so are you.”
Before I could answer, the nurse emerged from the double doors, her scrubs wrinkled and her expression relaxed. “Blair? You can come back now. She’s asking for you.”
I barely nodded before pushing through the doors, Greyson trailing close behind. We followed the nurse down the corridor, the air heavy with antiseptic and tension as we stepped into the dimly lit recovery room.
Madison lay in the hospital bed, sweat-damp hair clingingto her forehead, a pink bundle swaddled tightly in her arms. Her cheeks were flushed, her expression dazed with exhaustion and joy.
“She’s here,” Madison said, her voice a rasp. “Little Olive.”
My breath caught in my throat. The tiny baby blinked up at me with sleepy eyes, and I reached out tentatively, brushing her impossibly small fingers.
“She’s beautiful,” I whispered. “Mads, you did it.”
Madison gave a small, teary laugh. “I didn’t think I could… but you were right. I’m not alone.”
Behind me, Greyson stepped forward and touched Madison’s shoulder. “We’re all in this with you. Olive’s got a whole team already.”
I glanced at him, warmth spreading through me like sunlight. We stayed for a while, helping Madison settle, laughing softly, and watching Olive yawn and stretch like she already knew she was loved.
Later, as the nurses came to check Madison’s vitals and we stepped out into the quiet hallway, I found myself leaning into Greyson’s side.
