Page 48 of Sterling Heat

I make a quick stop before heading to the hospital. My palms sweat at the thought of going to the old Wallace place. But that sweaty feeling might be a mixture of elation that Adara gets to go home and fear for the next steps. Despite her premature status, she’s perfectly healthy, and she’s doing great. Gaining weight every day. Making faces. Opening her eyes. Giving me a smile, even if it’s a false pretense. She just has gas.

However, I’m genuinely scared in a way I’ve never been afraid before. Not that Enya won’t be a great mother, but that she’ll be alone in that farmhouse with no one looking out for her and the baby.

As I approach the NICU pod, Enya races up to me and wraps her arms around my neck as if she hugs me every day and I shouldn’t be surprised by this action, which I am. Slowly, I circle my arms around her and tug her tight to me. Excitement vibrates off her body.

“This is it,” she whispers near my ear. “It’s really happening.” Anticipation exudes in her strained voice. Is she scared, too?

Vale told me becoming a mother was the most thrilling and frightening thing she’d ever done. She didn’t regret Hudson for a second but there were secondary fears. She hadn’t had a mother. Our father had been shit. Vale didn’t trust herself. But some maternal instinct to nurture kicked in, and she’s been the best mom.

Enya is going to be the same way.

“It’s really happening,” I whisper back to her, dipping my nose to her neck to selfishly inhale her fresh rain scent. Slowly, she slips from my arms, and I fight the urge to hold on a little longer. Instead, I let her glide away.

“How did this happen so soon?” The doctors wanted to keep Adara until she reached her original due date.

“She just hooked her little fingers around the tube and tugged. It slid out.” Enya’s tone is full of awe and pride as she imitates what must have happened. Her daughter is a fighter. A survivor, like me.

“You ready?” I ask.

“A photographer is present, and they want to take going-home pictures. It will only be a few minutes while the discharge papers are still being worked up.” Her voice rises with each item.

With my hands on her shoulders, I slip them down to her wrists, feeling the stress rippling through her. “Hey. You got this.”

“I know.” She blows out a breath, and chews at her lower lip. “I’m just a ball of emotion. Excited. Nervous. Relieved. Sad.” Her eyes snap up to meet mine.

“Sad?” My brows pinch.

She timidly smiles and waves a hand between us. “It doesn’t matter.”

But it does. I want to know why she’s sad.

“Ms. Calloway?” A woman approaches with a camera around her neck. Enya twists but I don’t release her wrists.

“Hi,” she greets the photographer.

“If you’re ready, I’d like to take a couple pictures by the window. The natural light is perfect. We’ll do a few of baby. Baby and Mom. Baby and Dad. And then all three of you.”

“Oh, I’m not—”

“That sounds lovely.” Enya speaks over me and flips her wrist in a way she’s suddenly holding my hands, squeezing my fingers.

Within minutes, I’m watching a woman snap photograph after photograph of Adara. Then Adara and Enya in the sweetest pose as they gaze at each other. Before I know it, a picture is taken of me staring down at Adara. I rapidly blink as she looks up at me, giving me another of those gas-induced smiles that tricks me into thinking she’s sharing a special grin. One only meant for me. Like we have a secret.

“Looks just like you, Dad.” The photographer has no idea what she’s saying. Correcting her is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t seem to form a response.

“Okay. Family ones.”

My head snaps up at the instruction, and I’m ready to pass Adara to Enya when the photographer tells Enya to stand at my side and slip her arm around my back. She wraps one arm behind me but the other glides across my waist, and she tucks into my side.

We gaze at each other. We look down at Adara. The camera clicks and clicks.

“You’re a beautiful couple,” the photographer murmurs. “One more direction. Keep holding her Dad, but turn to face Mom.”

I glance up at Enya who offers me a sheepish smile. Something she sees on my face prompts her expression to falter. “I should have asked your permission about all this. I’m a little wrapped up in the moment and I forgot . . .”

Forgot we weren’t a family.

“No. It’s fine,” I lie. Or maybe the lie is I’m a little more okay with this situation than I should be.