I knew which room was the waiting room because a dark-skinned giant was standing outside the door. His hands were clasped at his waist. He looked more like secret service than FBI. He spoke, his voice abnormally deep. “The nurse is on the way with more blankets and pillows.”
“Th-thank you,” Hadley said, stretching her neck to gaze straight up.
Agent Blevins winked at her as she passed by.
Ellie and Falyn ushered the kids into the dim waiting room, followed by a nurse with short blond hair and a Crest smile. She was holding a stack of blankets and pillows, thanking Agent Blevins as he held the door open for her.
“Where’s Cami?” Taylor asked.
Trenton glanced at his watch then at Agent Blevins.
“Five minutes out,” the giant said, acknowledging Agent Davies with a nod. I was glad he was assigned to the kids. The Maddoxes were almost all together, and even though we were a force to be reckoned with, Agent Blevins was his own army. “Heard you made a pit stop.”
“I did,” Agent Davies said.
I couldn’t stop looking at her. Not because she was beautiful—although she was—but because Hollis looked so much like her. I was curious, wondering how she could carry him for so long and just walk away. Then I thought about how selfless it was of her to offer that to Taylor. Most guys didn’t get a choice. She could have just had an abortion, and he would have never known. None of us could imagine a world without Hollis Maddox. He was smart as a whip and way too good-looking and charming for his own good. Knowing his biological mother was a lethal federal agent made perfect sense.
Falyn and Ellie snuck out of the waiting room, and my curious staring ended. I pulled Ellie to my side and kissed her temple. “Gavin went back to sleep?”
“I know,” she said. “I can’t believe it, either. He must be growing.”
“If he grows any more, he’ll be in the NFL soon,” Dad said.
My chest puffed out. I couldn’t help it. He was a good-sized kid. Reminded me of Travis when he was his age. If he didn’t slow down, even Agent Blevins would be looking up at him soon. I hugged Ellie tighter. “And Ellie lugged him around all day. I’m surprised her arms didn’t fall off.”
“I’m used to it,” she said.
She was right. Long before Gavin came, she was following around my crew of wildfire hotshots into the mountains to document the fire season for the local magazine, The MountainEar. Not long into her second season, she was lugging equipment miles into the wilderness and onto helicopters like the rest of us. She’d worked so hard to get her life back, and she made sure to appreciate the second chance she’d been given by the Alpine Hotshot Chief to tag along with her camera. She’d had a couple of setbacks, but we’d gotten engaged pretty quick after she got back from rehab and then married not long after. A wedding, living together, and working together were a lot for her to process in one year, but I was glad we didn’t give up. It hadn’t been perfect, but I wouldn’t have traded one moment of my bad days with my wife for good days with anyone else.
It took a long time for her to believe she was ready or deserving to be a mom, but once Gavin arrived, she was a natural. She started staying home full-time when he was born, playing the part of both parents when I was gone on the job.
“Can’t wait ‘til morning,” Dad said. “Travis and Abby’s son will be here, Liis will be here with Stella, and all my grandkids will be in one place for the first time in a long time.”
“You’re sure it’s a boy?” I asked.
“That’s what Abby said,” Dad said with a shrug. “I’m betting she’s right.”
“I know better than to bet against Abby,” Trenton said, glancing at his watch again. He looked at Agent Blevins. “It’s been five minutes, boss.”
The elevator opened, and Camille stood there with who I assumed was another agent. Trenton jogged over to her, throwing his arms around her middle and lifting her feet off the ground. He planted kisses on her mouth for a full minute, and then they joined us in the hall.
“Here, Dad,” Camille said, directing him to sit on one of the benches pushed up against the wall. No arms or back, they were just long seats covered in green, fake leather, sitting on silver legs.
Dad sat, his belly covering half his thighs. He was wearing a jacket over his pajama shirt, slacks, and suede moccasins. He looked tired but happy.
Just as we all found a seat, a doctor rounded the corner and paused at our sheer number. Even with the kids and Shepley’s parents asleep in the waiting room, we were a good-sized group.
He was bald with a white goatee and in decent shape for his age. His round glasses made him look more hippie and less doctor, and I liked that about him. “Good morning. Baby’s fine. Mom’s fine. We’ll be moving the baby to NICU here shortly to observe him, but he’s strong. Dr. Finn, the pediatrician, doesn’t believe he’ll need anything more than some supplementary oxygen, but she’s keeping an eye on him. The nurses will be wheeling him down the hall soon. You can catch a glimpse of him then.”
“They’re taking him from Abby?” America asked.
The doctor smiled, patient with the barrage of questions. “All babies under thirty-five weeks go to the NICU. Mom and Dad can visit as soon as we evaluate and get him hooked up to the good stuff.”
“How big is he?” Falyn asked.
“I think they said five pounds, five ounces,” the doctor said, smiling when everyone gasped. “A good size, considering.”
“Thank you,” Dad said.
The doctor nodded, in a hurry to get home and get some sleep before what was likely a full day of prenatal appointments. A group of nurses and a doctor wheeled past with an incubator, pausing when they saw us down the hall. America jumped up first, followed by Shepley, and then the rest of us. Camille and Trenton stayed behind, helping Jim to his feet and walking with him down the hall.
We oohed and ahhed over Travis’s youngest son.
“He looks just like Travis!” America said, her eyes filling with tears.
“I don’t know,” Dad said. “I see that stubborn chin sticking out.”
“You’re right,” America said. “That’s definitely Abby’s chin.”
“Hang in there, little guy,” Trenton said, holding tight to his wife.
I wondered what it was like for Trenton and Camille to see us one by one, as we all had our second and third child, and they were still trying. I knew they were happy for Travis and Abby—I could see it on their faces—but I could also see a longing; an ache that wouldn’t go away until they had one of their own.
The nurses wheeled him down the hall, and everyone but America returned to our uncomfortable bench seats. I smiled when I saw Travis tap America on the shoulder, and she threw her arms around him and cried happy tears. They talked for a moment, and then he walked her down to where we sat.
I stood up, shaking his hand a couple of times before giving him a hug. “Congratulations. He’s a good lookin’ boy.”
“That he is,” Travis said. He looked both tired and energized, happy and worried.
“What’d you decide to name ‘em?” Dad asked.
Travis clapped his hands together, already proud of the name. “Carter Travis Maddox.”