“You did it. You did it. One more and he’s out.”
Sarah did everything they said. She heard her baby cry. The squirming mass of limbs was placed on the sterilized fabric they’d draped over her. She wasn’t supposed to touch him yet, but she could feel his warmth, him.
“He’s here,” Sarah murmured, looking at her baby. Her son.
“And we need to load up and get to a hospital. We’re going to wrap him up and take care of him, all right?”
Sarah nodded, because she couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. She was exhausted. Wrung out, and they’d taken her baby away. But he was here. Here and making noise. Alive. Safe.
“See him, daddy?” Sarah heard the EMT ask Dev. She managed to twist her head to see Dev get the first glimpse at their son.
Their son.
In the midst of terror and tragedy, a miracle had arrived.
PAUL KNIGHT WYATT was perfect. His smattering of hair was dark, his eyes were blue—which everyone told him would change, though Dev held out hope he had Sarah’s eyes. Regardless, all eight pounds of him made up for everything that had been a part of his delivery.
Dev had not been able to hold his son, or kiss the love of his life, or anything important for the first few days. They’d been relegated to separate hospital rooms, where they could only communicate through video chats on their phones.
But they did those, regularly, even when the pain meds made him a little loopy and one of his brothers had to hold the phone for him.
Sarah and Paul had gone home first. Paul, named after the woman who had saved Dev’s life too many times to count. She’d shot Anth, and ended the nightmare. Just like she’d once welcomed him into her home, promising to keep him safe. And loved.
Grandma Pauline had beaten them all home, of course. Though she’d suffered a concussion, she’d been back at the ranch the next day. Liza had needed an extra day of observation because she’d had concussions before.
Everyone else who had battled the fire had been checked out for smoke inhalation, but had invariably been able to go home that night. Though Duke had stayed with Sarah since Dev couldn’t.
It was eating him up inside.
When a nurse came in to check his vitals, he harassed her about going home. She patiently told him that was up to the doctors, but surgery following a gunshot wound was pretty serious.
He’d growled at her retreating back, scowling deeper when Jamison entered the room. “I am not in the mood for visitors.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Jamison said cheerfully. “I’ve arranged a little bit of a surprise for New Year’s Eve, but it’s not authorized, so you’re going to have to be a good boy.”
Dev only grunted.
“Trust me. You’re going to want this surprise.”
Brady came in, pushing a wheelchair in front of him. “Gage is distracting the nurses. Let’s go.”
Dev frowned at them. “You’re not breaking me out.”
“You’re not ready to be broken out,” Brady replied. Still, both his brothers helped him into the wheelchair, Brady manning the chair, Jamison pushing the IV cart. They put some blankets over his lap and draped a coat over his shoulders. “Now, don’t say a word. Got it?”
Dev couldn’t say he did get it, but his head and body ached, so he did what he was told as his brothers wheeled him through the hallway, to an elevator, then all the way down to the main floor. And right out the front doors.
“I thought you said you weren’t breaking me out.” It was cold, but sunny. Dev squinted against the bright sunlight after days of fluorescent lighting. Brady stood behind him, manning the wheelchair, but Jamison walked to the parking lot. To a truck.
His truck.
Sarah got out of the passenger seat and Jamison pulled a baby’s car seat out of the back. Every grumpy, angry, pain-fueled thought emptied out of him as she came over, smiling.
“I thought you might like a chance to hold your baby.”
Dev didn’t trust his voice, so he just nodded. Jamison and Sarah fiddled with the car seat and wrapped the little bundle up in layers and layers.
After a few minutes, Sarah placed Paul in his arms. She settled a blanket around both of them. “There’s your daddy,” she whispered to Paul. “We’ve been missing him. Haven’t we?”
Paul was bundled head to toe, pretty much only his eyes and mouth showing. Those eyes were wide and alert and gazed right at Dev.
“Look at you,” he murmured, bowled over, body and soul. Heart and mind. Just...blank because all he could do was stare at this baby—his son—and feel.
He had no idea how long he simply held his son against him and looked, tried to memorize every expression, every inch. Eventually he raised his gaze to the woman he loved. Who’d given birth to this baby on his grandmother’s couch. Who’d survived and was standing there smiling. And he was just saturated with gratitude. With love. And hope. “Thank you,” he managed to say, though his voice was rough.
“For giving birth?” she asked with a laugh. One hand rested on his shoulder, and the other gently touched Paul’s cheek. “I didn’t have much of a choice. He was coming out one way or another.”
“No. Thank you for saving me.”
She looked from Paul to him, smoothed the hair on his forehead. “You’re muddled. Grandma Pauline did that.”
“She saved my life, probably more than once all things said and done. But I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about...me. Without you, I’d still be...missing.”
“Without us,” Sarah said, nodding toward their son in his arms.
“Yeah. Yeah. We have to get married.”
Her smile died, turning into a confused frown. “You couldn’t even phrase it like a question?”
“Why would I do that?” He grinned up at her. “You’re going to marry me.” There were no doubts, and Dev wouldn’t waste another second of his life.
Never again.
Epilogue
One Year
