Page 3 of Josephine and Clay

Boone.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

There’s noise on his end. Movement. Voices layered over each other. “Clay.”

What the hell? This seems more than just a check-in.

I straighten without thinking, gripping the phone tighter. “What happened?”

“Tessa’s in labor.”

My grip tightens around the phone. “She’s early?”

“I know.” He exhales, rough. “They’ve got her at the hospital. They’re checking everything, but we don’t know much yet.”

The bar fades into the background, the music and noise turning distant. “I’m coming.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Good. We all need to be together for this.”

I’m not a fan of the way his tone dips. He’s worried, which means I need to be too.

“I’ll be there,” I tell him. “See you soon.”

The hospital is packed with McCoys.

Boone stands near the window, arms folded, his expression locked down tight in that way he gets when he’s holding everything together for everyone else. Dallas is pacing a worn path into the floor, running a hand over the back of his neck every few seconds because he can’t burn off the nervous energy fast enough. Mom sits upright in one of the plastic chairs, hands clasped in her lap, her spine so straight it looks painful.

No one’s talking much.

I lean back against the wall, boots planted, hat low over my eyes to try and make me less noticeable. Less of an obstruction.

They move around each other easily. Boone murmurs something to Dallas, and he slows, just a little. Mom reaches for Boone’s arm without looking, and he lets her. There’s a rhythm to it. A familiarity that comes from showing up, again and again.

I’ve missed too much of that.

“Doc said anything yet?” I ask, mostly because the silence is getting to me.

Dallas shakes his head. “Still waiting.”

Boone glances back at me and gives a short nod. “They’ll come out soon.”

I nod, but it doesn’t settle anything.

So I stay where I am, arms crossed, pretending I’m fine just watching it all play out instead of being just outside of it.

Time drags.

Eventually, a door opens down the hall, and everything shifts.

Dallas stops pacing mid-step. Boone straightens. Mom’s already on her feet before the doctor even fully steps into the hallway.

There are words. Explanations. Things I probably should be paying attention to, but all I really catch is: “They’re both doing well.”

The tension breaks so fast it almost knocks the wind out of me.