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The four of us rush over, but it’s my hand he reaches for, taking me off guard. We’ve hardly touched in months, and the feeling of his skin on mine sends an electric current racing up my arm, burrowing into my chest.

God, I’ve missed him.

Other than the occasional instinctive cuddling in our sleep—moments I’ve clung to desperately—we’ve kept our distance. And it’s killing me. I crave him in ways I can’t put into words, in ways I’m not even sure he’d want.

But I know he’s not ready. He might never be.

And that’s okay.

I’m not going anywhere.

“They’re both okay,” he breathes, dark circles under his eyes. “The baby...she’s okay. She’ll have to spend some time in the NICU because she’s tiny, but they said her heart sounds strong.”

Jenna squeaks, her entire face lighting up as tears spill over her cheeks. “She?”

“Yeah,” he squeezes my hand, a tired smile on his lips. “A baby girl. Hannah Rose, after mine and Val’s grandmothers.”

Taylor throws his arms around him while Christian slaps him on the shoulder, relief softening his features. “Matty’s a daddy! Holy shit!”

“Can we see her?” I croak, the words slipping out before I can stop them. I’m not even sure why I’m asking. For months, I’ve resented that tiny human growing inside the woman who’s hurt Matty more times than I can count. But now… seeing the pride and love shining in his eyes, I feel something crack inside me.

Matty nods, palm warm against mine. “She has to be incubated for a while until she...until she gets through the withdrawals and gains some weight, but yeah, we can see her.”

My chest tightens at the thought of her so small, so fragile, already fighting battles she didn’t ask for. The anger for Val intensifies, threatening to swallow me whole. How could she do this to him? To this life she created against Matty’s will?

Judging from the looks on Jenna, Taylor, and Christian’s faces, they all feel the same.

He leads us down a maze of hallways, past door after door until we finally reach a wide window. The room beyond is bathed in soft, sterile light, and my heart stutters as I peer inside.

There, in a small glass incubator, is the tiniest human I’ve ever seen.

“There she is,” Matty whispers, pointing her out, his voice breaking.

Jenna gasps beside me, her hand flying to her mouth. “She’s so little… all of those tubes and monitors…”

“I know.” He nods, his jaw tight, eyes glistening. “Barely two pounds. We can’t hold her yet. Not until she’s more stable.”

I slide my arm around his middle, grounding him as best I can. My gaze shifts back to the tiny swaddled human in the incubator, and my chest tightens all over again. Jesus, who knew preemies were this small? She can’t be any bigger than my palm.

Taylor taps on the glass lightly, grinning and waving as if the fussing baby can somehow see him. “Aw, a baby Matt. So fuckin’ cute.”

“Language, dumbass,” Christian mutters, smacking him upside the head. “Little ears.”

“You literally called your ten-year-old sister a shithead yesterday, don’t start,” Taylor fires back, rubbing the back of his head.

“I’m an aunt,” Jenna marvels, her voice hushed with awe.

For a split second, my stomach twists. The word aunt pulls me back, dragging old wounds to the surface. My scars itch under my sleeves, memories of Aunt Pearl flashing uninvited in my mind—until Matty’s fingers sink into the back of my neck, rubbing away the tension there.

But Jenna isn’t like that. She’s an amazing, warm, kind-hearted woman who’d never tear down her own flesh and blood just for being a kid. The baby is lucky to have her.

No, not the baby.

Hannah.

She’s not just a fragile little thing in an incubator. She’s a whole little human with a name.

“How’s Valerie doing?” Jenna asks, her voice careful, but the question makes Matty stiffen beside me.