faded sunlight.

TASKTHREE — MOODBOARDS.

fam • i • ly noun life’s greatest blessing; a group that dreams, laughs, play and loves together; those whom you can always count on; always present not only in the good times; the most precious gift 

Even before he’d left Tatum for good, Wyatt hadn’t recalled there ever being such awkwardness between them. That had been replaced by angst, pain, yearning. Now, Wyatt wasn’t entirely sure how to behave around Sara, what felt right in that moment wasn’t clear to him. Little was, at present. “Oh, okay. Great.” He nodded in agreement, reticent to express a shared sentiment. He missed being there, missed being with his boys and certainly missed Sara’s company. Not that he was quite comfortable rolling back into things the way they once were — there were still things Wyatt needed to wrap his head around, issues that, as he’d suggested, a therapist might be able to help them with.

“I can, uh, get the guest room ready.” His brow knit once more, finding it was difficult to set boundaries when he knew that Sara was hurting. He was reticent to cause her more pain, but reminded himself that in this relationship, his feelings were of equal importance. And Wyatt still wasn’t ready. He would be, he knew. But it wouldn’t be quite so quickly. “I just… I think it will be easier. I’m their dad. I hate feeling like all I am is a play-date for them. I know you need more help, too.” It would be time wasted away from the boys that Wyatt would regret most, and he couldn’t stand the thought of missing out any more moments, however seemingly insignificant. 

“Oh.” Wyatt nodded, a note of surprise in his tone. When he thought of Patrick Bennett, Wyatt saw his foremost role-model when it came to fatherhood. He’d always imagined that he and his late wife had had a great marriage, as they’d managed to raise great children. “That, uh… That was the plan.” He confirmed with a faint smile. “I do… I miss you, Sar. I just had a lot of anger to work through. And I guess, maybe I still do.” Wyatt reached out another tentative hand, fingers curling around Sara’s as he offered a squeeze. “I didn’t want to be that guy, in front of you. I felt so shallow and insecure. I didn’t want to say something I’d regret.”

—

“The guest room,” she repeated, unable to stop the flash of hurt that came upon her face. It knitted her brows together and threated to bring a fresh onslaught of tears she refused to cry. So, instead, she fought to shutter the emotion, tapering off the tempest that swelled behind her eyes until it was so small she hoped it couldn’t be seen. Because this, she reminded herself as she’d done nearly everyday for the past few months, was the only thing she could give, the only thing for which he’d asked. Space. Time. She was trying to be so careful in giving Wyatt what he needed. 

Gaze traveling beyond him, Sara focused on a spot outside of the office door. “Yeah, no. That makes sense I guess.” Except it really didn’t make any sense at all. Not to her. It felt terribly, intrinsically wrong to have him here and not have him at all. And despite the fact that he was coming home, and they were talking about couples counseling, it felt like another few inches had crammed themselves between the pair. Sara wanted to scream or yell, or do anything that would conjure a rise of emotion in him. To prove that the fire that had rendered them both unable to keep their hands off one another still existed. It did, for her. 

“I get that,” she told him, returning that gentle squeeze of his hand even as her lower lip trembled and she pressed her teeth into the soft flesh. She would not cry. She would not. “I know that I did this to us, and that I robbed us of what should have been one of the happiest moments in our lives. I know that, and I wish I had an explanation that would make it... less shitty. But, I am sorry, Wy. I never meant to make you feel like that. And I would never—” She cut herself off, always hesitant in broaching the subject in its entirety. “Anyway, you know where everything is.” A soft humorless laugh then. “But, let me know if you need me, okay?”  

KEVIN: the name isla jean ring any bells?

KEVIN: when were you gonna mention your cousin moved to town??

SARA: Wait, MY isla jean???

SARA: Brb, calling her for every single detail right now

SARA: KIDDING

SARA: Or am I?

Wyatt let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah, tell me about it.” His attempt to commiserate fell flat, a hopeful rock that once skipped across the pond found itself quickly drowning in the depths of the water. “But it’s all fixed, now. Everything is where it should be.” Except for him. He had built this home with his bare hands, had labored on it for nearly a year, yearning for Sara and hoping that the home would be the place in which they could finally be together as a family. Now it felt empty, his trust still hurting and his head still reeling. 

“Well, um —” Wyatt’s hand slipped from his pocket, falling gently on Sara’s arm. “You’re not keeping me. I was hoping…” He knit his brow, looking at his hand and how foreign it seemed against her body, and still earnestly familiar. “I wanted to talk.” Talk. He’d never been very good with words, always seeming to stick his foot in it. Particularly where Sara was concerned, it seemed. But that was how relationships went, he told himself. There were natural ups and downs. He and Sara had been dealt a poor hand and were desperately fighting to keep the love that they hand. Only, lately, there hadn’t been much fighting. 

“Wesley’s couch isn’t… Well —” He looked down at his hands, avoiding Sara’s gaze. “It’s not a permanent solution. I know it’s been a couple of months and… I wanted to see how you’d feel, if you were alright with me, potentially, um, coming home.” Wyatt cleared his throat awkwardly, hands stuffing themselves back into his pockets. “I never did couples counseling, before. But maybe it could work for us. Maybe it could help us. And I’d be willing to try it, if you are.”

—

Both of their gazes fell to that hand gently resting against her arm, the first touch in too many days. The overwhelming urge to somehow lean into him, to keep him there, beat against Sara’s reservation. And then, far too quickly, it was gone, shoved back into his pocket, leaving her bereft of the warmth it had brought. She hadn’t expected his words, the offer to talk when so many visits ended with the space between them gaining another few inches until Sara worried there would be no way for them reach each other again. “Of course,” she heard herself reply, careful to keep the swell of hope from crashing into her voice, flooding into her eyes.

“I miss you.. being here with us. So, yes, of course you can come home.” She didn’t remind him that it had been his choice to leave, that he was the one who needed space, and therefore didn’t need permission to come back— Because she didn’t blame him. The day in the hospital room, that look on his face— Sara had thought about it everyday. And if the roles had been reversed, if it were Wyatt who had met up with Tatum, Sara knew her own reaction would have been nowhere near as rational or collected as Wyatt’s. But, it was that calmness, the way anger had silently rolled from him that continued to haunt her, stick in her mind relentlessly. 

”I’m willing,” she answered with a nod of her head, no questions asked because she would do whatever she could to fix this. “My parents did marriage counseling once, way back before Mom got sick. It worked for them.” For a long time, Sara believed her parents’ marriage had been perfect. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago, after watching everything unfold, that her dad had finally confided in her, trying to reassure her that everything would be okay in time. “Would you— so today, then? You’d be coming home today?” 

There was no joy for Wyatt in sleeping on his brother’s sofa. It was a means to an end, a bit of separation to try and get his mind right, to try and figure out what he wanted and what he needed. He focused on work, on the many projects that still came seeking the expertise of his firm, of being a father. Ezra and Frances were happy to have unfettered access to Wyatt once again, but it would never be quite the same as it had been once before — before Bennett, before Patrick. Before Wyatt had tried to make a family home of his own. Still, he slapped on a smile and tried to play Fortnite with Ezra though he was woefully unprepared to play his nephew’s generation of video games. When Frannie wanted a second dessert he snuck it to her under Wesley’s nose, happy to pander to his niece and nephew and their many whims. 

But nothing was quite like hearing the excited squeals of Bennett as he clumsily ran towards the front door, truly moving like a machine. It wasn’t so very long ago he was just a lump in Wyatt’s arms, completely co-dependent. Now he was holding his own spoon to eat, lifting his own cup of water to his lips. And now there was Patrick, who was in Bennett’s hand-me-downs and still at the complete mercy of his caregivers for every need. “Alright.” He nodded at Sara. They didn’t speak much, texts exchanged solely pertained to the boys and their needs or whereabouts. There was no talking about the not talking. He was taking his space, and Sara was letting him, or, at least, she had no idea how to break the silence. Wyatt didn’t really, either. 

He spent a handful of hours playing with the boys until it was even time for Bennett to go down for a nap, leaving him hands-free. That was usually his cue to leave, but Arlo was waiting by the front door, so Wyatt latched on his leash and gave him a walk. And then there were dishes — so Wyatt stood at the sink and washed them by hand, stacking them all on the drying rack neatly. There were a million chores, little things that one overlooked in the busyness of raising children. So Wyatt grabbed the spray and paper towels, handled the vacuuming, started another load of laundry. The things Sara might have been doing had she not felt she had to stow herself away in her office while Wyatt was around. 

With nothing left to do that he could find, Wyatt made his way up the stairs to Sara’s office, soft knock sounding as he creaked the door open. “The boys are both down… I walked Arlo. And, uh, did some other stuff.” He stood there awkwardly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “The smoke detector was chirping, so I switched out the batteries. Oh,  and the filter on the kitchen sink. Just, um, some things that I noticed.” A honey-do list he’d made up in his own mind, of things that should be taken care of, for Sara’s peace-of-mind. “I’ll get out of your hair, then.”

—

For those few hours, Sara could almost pretend that everything was normal. She could type away at her computer, or research, or.. if all else failed, dust— and listen to Bennett’s squeals of delight, Wyatt’s own laughter as he played with the boys. It let her breathe easier, let some of the tension that built in her muscles relax because this was right. Not the space that existed between her and Wyatt, but him in this house. With them. 

But, the ticking of the clock on the wall was a constant reminder that the day would come and go, and Wyatt would leave again. And Sara could do nothing to stop it. She thought about saying something, about starting a conversation that consisted of more than drop-off and pick-up, or visitation. She hated that it was essentially all their relationship had boiled down to, and that somehow they were back to co-parenting. But, the problem was that every time Sara opened her mouth to hopefully thaw the ice between them, nothing came out. Instead, Wyatt’s face in that hospital room came to mind and she choked on the words, on the shame that came from decisions she made. 

So, they were and had been at a stalemate. Not moving forward, or backward. But, just resting in limbo. Sara clinging to these few hours where she could pretend that all was right. But, the knock on the office came. It always did and she pulled her attention from the computer screen to Wyatt as he pushed open the door. “Thank you. I’ve been meaning to get to it, the smoke detector. And everything else. There just never seems to be enough time.” Her voice was small, her smile fragile as she fixed her eyes upon him. Her heart squeezing over the small, thoughtful acts. 

“You don’t, uhm—” She steeled herself, letting the words on her tongue fortify before she could speak them. “You don’t have to go. Right now. If you don’t want?” It was as close as she’d come to asking him to stay, of trying to figure out some way through the fractured bits they had become. “Unless you have somewhere to be, in which case, yeah. Sure.” Fingers drug through her hair, an easy-to-spot show of her nerves. “Don’t let me keep you.” She stood then, walking toward the office door as if to follow him out. 

In no way could Sara have ever claimed the cabin to be a quiet place. It was beautifully noisy with the way Bennett’s pattering footsteps echoed down the hall, and Patrick’s whimpers, as he woke from his nap, could be heard across the baby monitor. Sara played music and listened to the sound of her fingers tapping against the keyboard. And, yet, it still wasn’t enough to drown out all the ways in which the home had become deafeningly silent. 

Silent in the way Wyatt no longer knocked on her office door when she’d locked herself away to write. Silent in the way she didn’t hear the running water of him brushing teeth before climbing into bed at the end of the day. Silent in the way his alarm clock didn’t wake up her way before she ever intended to climb from beneath the blankets. 

It wasn’t as though she didn’t see him. She wasn’t even sure a day had gone by following her discharge from the hospital nearly two months ago that he hadn’t come to the house, and definitely not more than three days. But, things were as strained as ever and Sara didn’t know how to fix it. Couldn’t be sure Wyatt wanted to fix anything between them. 

But, no matter how broken they might have been, Wyatt had shown up for the boys. And Sara, walking on eggshells, retreated to her office while he visited, if he didn’t opt to take them for a few hours. Bennett would often stay overnight, when he could, but Patrick would come back home if for no other reason than to soothe Sara’s separation anxiety. Those nights were the worst. When not one but two of the people who mattered most to her were away. 

Today, though, she’d opened the door, painting on the most genuine smile she could as she let Wyatt in the house. “Ben!’ she called, watching as the toddler's face split into a grin upon seeing his dad. “I’ll just be—” she motioned toward the stairs, “if you need me.”

Sara wouldn’t exactly call herself a recluse since becoming a mother of two. But she certainly hadn’t been making trips into town very often. Had even, somewhat, fallen out of touch with those closest to her. But, striking a balance between handling the two-month-old, one-year-old, and herself had proven to be more of a struggle than she had anticipated. One that often left her feeling like leaving the house was in nobody’s best interest. 

Today, however, she had readied them all and tucked the two boys into the stroller. Arlo, leash in tact, walked beside them, his tail wagging as the four of them made it up the road. Happy Tails Dog Park wasn’t too far from the cabin that Sara couldn’t walk and the weather wasn’t so chilly that it kept them inside. In other words, it was as good a day as any to get out of the house. So, Sara did. 

In a matter of minutes following their arrival, both Bennett and Patrick were crying and Arlo was eager to be let loose. And Sara? Well, she could do little more than pray for patience as she dug around in the diaper bag, pulling both a pacifier and bottle from its depths. No sooner than she popped the bottle into Patrick’s mouth Bennett launched his pacifier into the air, Sara watching as it bounced off someone. “I’m so sorry.” Her tone was tired, but polite with just a hint of amusement as she curled a smile onto her lips and moved forward to grab for the Nuby. “We’re training for the MLB,” she joked. “Never too early to start, right?” 

@eureka-starters​

Wyatt couldn’t muster the same passion that Sara did in this particular conversation. It felt like a weight was pressing down, forcing his eery calmness. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism — to show he cared would in some way would make the weaknesses in his armor more apparent. He’d always engaged with Tatum, and it’d always left him the loser. “No, you’re not Tatum.” Wyatt had fallen in love with Sara for all the ways she wasn’t Tatum. She had cared for him at a human level, eased his burdens and engaged in his hobbies and joys. They had so much in common, more foundation to build a life on that he’d ever had with his ex-wife. But that relationship had played out in secret, in stolen moments and a love that was forbidden from the light of day.

“Don’t ask me to stay when you know I have to go.” Wyatt knit his brow, not moving closer to the doorway, but not edging back towards Sara, either. “They’re words, Sara. And they’re nice words. But I’ve learned enough from my mistakes that without any action, words end up having no support behind them. And then it’s just a lot of hurt.” Sara had given him the same speech, once upon a time. “I have to go get Bennett. But I will come back when you’re discharged. He’s still my son. You’re still the mother of my children.” And right now, that was all Wyatt could let her be, it was all he could process.

He stepped towards the door then, pausing in one final glance towards Sara and their new son. “I filled out his birth certificate, by the way. Patrick. Patrick Michael Hill.” They’d discussed it, but hadn’t fallen firm on it. Sara, as always, offering Wyatt the opportunity to offer his own family names into the mix. But he couldn’t think of someone who would have a more profound influence on this baby than her father, but the middle name, well… Wyatt and Mikey had been spending more time together, mending some broken fences. So it felt right, in that moment. Wyatt then broke their gaze, stepping out into the hall to make his way home. Whatever home was, then.

Wyatt hadn’t ever felt upset with Sara like this — even their brief argument when he’d seen her kissing Derek lasted all of three seconds. This was the sort of anger that lingered, festering the more that Wyatt dwelled on it. In all of the years Wyatt had spent with Tatum, before they were married and then the duration of that marriage, he hadn’t ever found himself in such a similar position. There were never knock-down, drag-out fights, no searing passion that showed how closely love and hate were to one another. No — Wyatt had happily played the fool time and time again, the trusting husband who never questioned his wife and her extracurricular habits. 

But this situation was far different, the stakes much higher.  There were children involved, and perhaps, as Wyatt had longed feared, Sara’s fleeting affections. Would he have to spend the rest of his life convincing Sara she should be with him? Would he live out, time and time again, a perverted version of Austen’s Persuasion? That prospect, truly, was untenable. 

“Talk to you?” Wyatt knit his brow, hands planting on his hips as he paused from walking away, turning back to face Sara again. “What’s the point? Owing you something you clearly don’t feel inclined to return the favor on?” He swallowed, pushing back the tinnitus in his ears that seemed to grow louder the more worked up he felt. That, of course, didn’t translate to the outside. Wyatt was still eerily calm, still wholly put together despite the veritable storm wreaking havoc on his mind. “You met with Derek in Los Angeles. Met with him, spent time with him, God knows what else.”

The blind trust had been ruined, with the knowledge that Sara had kept something like this from Wyatt, knowing the depth of his insecurities with his ex brother-in-law. “Every time you pushed me away, or were reticent to build our life together, I thought if I just tried harder, you’d be convinced of it. That if I tried hard enough, then I’d never have to worry like I did with Tatum. But the truth is, you don’t really want this, do you? You don’t really want me, right? I’m not as exciting, not as enticing as Derek. The guy you’ve known your whole life, the guy you ran to when I wasn’t here. It’s been in front of me this entire time, and I’ve just been too much of an idiot to see it. So you don’t need to stay, Sara. If you want to be with Derek, then go be with Derek. I’m still going to raise our babies. But I can’t —” He looked away, glancing out the windows that showed a lovely view of the parking lot below. “I can’t be your second choice, too.”

—

Sara should have known that by not telling Wyatt about the run-in with Derek in Los Angeles, that she was creating a problem where one likely wouldn’t have existed. But, in that moment she had only been concerned with making sure Wyatt hadn’t worried about Derek, stressing over how he would perceive an innocent lunch that Sara had felt needed to happen. In hindsight, now as everything came crashing down around them, she realized she should have given Wyatt the benefit of the doubt. He had always been understanding, always letting her lead and respecting her feelings and views on their situation. On every situation. The damage was done now though. She could read the hurt lining Wyatt’s features as her chest tightened almost painfully.

Met with him, spent time with him, God knows what else. A wave of nausea rolled over her, the words making her sick to her stomach and so angry at herself that for a few moments she didn’t have anything to offer. Though, it wouldn’t have mattered. Before she could collect her thoughts, to even try to explain her reasons and intentions, he was speaking again. And beneath the too calm delivery, Sara knew there was a wealth of pain roiling. That she had caused it and that this was unlike any argument the pair had shared before. “Wyatt, I—” She adjusted Patrick so that his tiny head rested against her chest as she supported his head. 

“I did have lunch with him in Los Angeles. I thought that.. that maybe he would speak more candidly about everything if it was just the two of us. And, I should have told you that. I don’t know why I didn’t. I just didn’t— I didn’t want it to be something for you to worry about.” There was no hiding the cringe that found her when Tatum came into the conversation, as Sara was made to remember the past Wyatt had endured. A marriage overrun with infidelity. To imagine that she had allowed the same insecurities that his ex-wife had fostered to find sustainability in their own relationship was torturous. 

There was a desperation to touch him then, as if she could make him feel the truth in her words if she could just grab his hand. But, he was on the other side of the room and it felt like the space between them was littered with the pieces of his fractured trust, as though they were tangible fragments pushing him out the door. “Things haven’t always been easy for us, but I am not Tatum, Wyatt. I didn’t cheat on you and you’ve never been my second choice. You know that, right?” Tears lined her eyes. With the already high emotions from the day, it was a wonder they hadn’t yet fallen, but Sara maneuvered to brush them away anyway. “I want to be with you. I love you. I’m just— It was stupid. Los Angeles. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” Panic was rising once again and Sara could do nothing to slow it. “Please, please don’t leave right now.” 

KEVIN: guess who i went on a date with

SARA: 👀👀👀👀

Patrick’s birth was a whirlwind, so much chaos engulfing the delivery room that Wyatt couldn’t form a single thought beyond Sara’s well-being, until it was clear that Patrick needed additional medical attention before he was theirs to keep. “He’s fine, baby. He’s okay.” Wyatt’s voice was shaky, filled with the nervousness that came with the precarious nature of new parenthood, watching the doctor’s ministrations with their newest addition. But Wyatt remained steadfast in being his son’s guardian angel, watching over him to ensure that all was well. This was his son, after all. No matter what a paternity test might conclude. And god, Wyatt loved him. 

But in the intermittent time between her delivery room and the postpartum room they’d been moved to, Wyatt had gone to see Derek in the waiting room, to assure him that everything was well. It was such a strange feeling, to feel he owed his ex brother-in-law this information, knowing that one blood test might alter Wyatt’s ability to move past any associations with the Spencer family. And while Sara had claimed she didn’t want Derek in the delivery room, it hadn’t meant that she didn’t want him in her life — as evidenced by Derek referencing meeting up with her on her most recent conference trip, something Sara hadn’t mentioned to Wyatt whatsoever. 

And Wyatt felt… Angry. Angry in a way he never had with Tatum, when he’d been well aware of the affairs she’d carried out during the duration of their marriage. This was a fresh, entirely different set of emotions, and Wyatt could hardly look at Sara as he handed Patrick over to her, the warm and fuzzies he’d been filled with having been deflated by the idea that Sara had kept something from him. So maybe she hadn’t been telling the truth — maybe there was more there between her and Derek than she’d ever admitted to him. It wasn’t a merry-go-round that Wyatt wanted to be stuck on again. He’d finally found dignity and self-respect, and he wouldn’t sacrifice that, even for Sara. 

“I’m going to get out of here.” He stated calmly, cooly, slipping into his jacket that had been resting on the chair at her bedside. “Go home, take a shower. Get Bennett.” It was strange that he felt so collected, his anger tempered and all the more threatening for it. “But Derek’s here. So I’m sure you’ll be glad to see him.”

& —

Sara cuddled the newborn to her chest, gaze trained upon his tiny, perfect face as she adjusted in the hospital bed. Her eyes were heavy and her body tired in the hours after labor, but she couldn’t bring herself to settle into sleep. She wanted to hold her son and soak up every single one of the moments she knew would pass all too quickly. She wanted to share it, this feeling of such complete happiness, with Wyatt.

But, he’d handed Patrick over and then stepped back. Away.

She watched, brows furrowed, as he pulled on his jacket. And when he spoke it was detached and dull. So unlike Wyatt that Sara immediately knew something was wrong and a weight settled in the pit of her stomach. Hazel hues flicked back to the baby for a few long seconds before she brought them up to Wyatt. “Get out of here?” she repeated, her voice small and uncertain. She searched his face, hoping to spot anything that would help her but for once, she couldn’t read what she found there. So, teeth sinking into her lip, she could do little more than nod. “Yeah, uhm... Ok—” And then Derek’s name fell from his lips and Sara’s brain worked to put the pieces together. “What? Derek? I couldn’t care less about seeing Derek right now.”

Sara considered not pressing it. Just letting Wyatt walk out of the room and come back when he wanted. But, she had never really been any good at letting things rest and after everything she and Wyatt had gone through, she didn’t want to leave things unsaid. She couldn’t shake the feeling that him walking out of the room right now meant him walking away from her and that brought a desperation to her words. “Wy, please talk to me.”

Wyatt wanted to be a better man — the sort of guy who didn’t feel a nagging insecurity when it came to Derek Spencer. But he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t fight the nagging feeling that he would never be adequate enough, and certainly not in comparison to a man who had so much more in common with Sara. He wanted to be the bigger man, but he couldn’t. Not when this was all quickly becoming real, the prospect that he might be saddled with his ex brother-in-law for the rest of his life. Wyatt’s breath hitched as Sara took his hand, forcing him out of his intrusive line of thoughts and back to planet earth. “Okay.” He agreed, a nervous edge to his tone. 

But what might change when their son was in her arms? What if a DNA test concluded that Derek would always have an edge with this baby that Wyatt never could? And Sara — what if she decided that Wyatt wasn’t what she wanted, after all? The anxiety felt as though it was forming an ulcer in his gut, and Wyatt was all too glad to have the doctor interrupt them, though the news that they would in fact be meeting their son today did little to settle his nerves.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I’m ready.” Wyatt nodded, finding he was chewing his nail beds to hell. “Oh, Sar,” He offered a sanguine smile as he stepped over, palm at the back of her head as his lips pressed to her forehead. “It’s alright. You heard the doctor. He’s going to be completely fine. He’ll just be a little smaller. Which means we’ll be able to carry him around a baseball glove if we wanted.”

& —

“You would, wouldn’t you?” she laughed at the mental image of Wyatt carrying the baby in a glove, wiping away the few tears that had managed to slip down her cheeks. She could do little more than put her faith in the doctors, than trust that everything would be ok. It was this bit of trust that made room for the bubble of excitement. The Bennett-Hill family would be growing by one more today, regardless of paternity. “Bennett’s good with my dad, right? You’ve talked to him?” There were others Sara wanted to list, to ask about. Wesley and Mikey. Isla Jean. And then there were her friends. Those who supported both her and Wyatt throughout the pregnancy. All who would be told soon after their son’s arrival. But, the familiar swell of a contraction met her and Sara’s breath caught. 

The contractions continued as the hours passed and Sara fought for any ounce of comfort between them, her body growing more and more tired as it continued to labor. But, the charge nurse remained positive that they were progressing at a timely pace and that was enough to keep Sara pushing through each painful wave, Wyatt’s hand in hers. In the slow moments — moments where she could catch her breath, he brought encouragement and levity.  And Sara was struck, again, with the gratefulness and love she felt for him. He had been there for her every step of the way, unfaltering. It had taken Sara a long time to accept it, to feel secure in their relationship, and to lean on him. To let him support her when her instinct was to do for herself. But, she’d learned, there was no shame in admitting she needed Wyatt. 

Unlike their first son who had made them wait fourteen hours after her water had broken, Patrick Michael’s soft cries filled the room eight hours after Sara and Wyatt arrived at the hospital. After just three pushes. And also unlike Bennett, Patrick wasn’t immediately placed upon her chest. Instead, he was whisked away to be checked over, to ensure he was healthy and not in need of urgent medical care. She tried to see amid the flurry of activity in the room, but couldn’t and so, she pulled her hand from Wyatt’s. “Go with him,” Sara demanded, even though the baby had only been moved to the other side of the room. “Can you see him? Is he ok?” she asked moments later, voice shaky.

—

It was another two hours before she was moved to a postpartum room and Patrick was finally passed to her from Wyatt’s arms. “He’s so tiny. So beautiful,” Sara whispered, brushing a fingertip against the baby’s soft cheek. 

Wyatt paused only to watch Sara, filled with the same gnawing anxiety that it was too early, but willing himself to keep his cool if only for Sara’s sake. He knew the last thing she needed was him falling to hysterics — she needed reassurance that all would be well, and that Wyatt could provide. “I know. But, y’know, hospitals… They’re state of the art, especially with this stuff. And I’ll let Tatum know we’ll be there.” While it might not be the most thrilling prospect, having his ex-wife milling about, Tatum was someone Wyatt trusted implicitly, particularly when it came to those he cared about, and their well-being. And, there was always the rather twisted potential that she’d be becoming an aunt that day.

But it wasn’t much longer before they were in their own suite, both sitting in an anxious silence until Sara broke it, Wyatt’s gaze lifting up to her, stilling his restless leg and sitting up a bit straighter. “He’s a little more impatient than his brother, but we can work with this.” Wyatt offered, trying to paint a silver lining to the whole ordeal. As things went, this wasn’t the worst case scenario. “— Um.” He was more than a little caught off guard with the question, pausing and knitting his brow before he grabbed his phone from his pocket. “He said he was on his way fifteen minutes ago. So I assume he’ll be in the waiting room.” The last thing Wyatt really wanted on a day like today, particularly with the added stress of their son’s decidedly early entrance into this world, was to think about Derek’s potential connection to it all. 

“You don’t, um…” Wyatt knit his brow, looking down as his restless leg worked itself up again. “You don’t want him in here, do you?” It had been a more difficult thought the closer they got to Sara’s due date, that Wyatt might have to share a portion of his family with Derek forever. That would never be something that he would share with Sara, of course, but it had weighed on him. Wyatt stood, busying himself with adjusting Sara’s pillows so she had a bit of lumbar support, anything to keep himself from betraying his thoughts, knowing Sara would read right through him if she met his eyes, and he was supposed to be making things as uncomplicated as possible in that moment.

& —

Sara found her gaze trained upon the monitor screen, listening as their son’s steady, rhythmic heartbeat filled the room. The sight and sound was a balm to her worries, reminding her that though it was early he was still there, strong and healthy.  A moment later, she clocked the rise and fall of Wyatt’s bouncing leg, the only outward sign that he was just as worried. “Tatum, right,” she answered with a tight smile, mixed feelings rising over including Wyatt’s ex-wife in this particular chapter of their lives. While Sara knew the woman was good at her job, there were other doctors just as capable within the walls of Bayside Hospital. Ones who hadn’t been married to the man she was in love with. Ultimately, though, Sara wasn’t bothered enough to say anything more. Instead, she offered a quick nod before settling back, into the bed. 

Of course, only minutes later she felt guilty over her feelings toward Tatum when Derek was a much more present, involved issue. One that Wyatt had dealt with graciously and with more understanding and patience than Sara felt she deserved. Especially as she floundered in handling the situation at every turn. “Absolutely not. I just wanted to make sure he got the message.” In truth, Sara wouldn’t have cared if he hadn’t shown up at all. But, she knew he would. He’d said as much when they ran into one another in LA. “You’re the only person I want in here,” she told Wyatt as he busied himself with adjusting her pillows. “Okay?” She caught his hand then, squeezing it gently, offering what comfort she could. 

Sara knew it difficult. For both of them. That it had been easier to put it out of mind when her due date was months and weeks away, but now they were here. She couldn’t waste anymore energy on the thought of Derek though. Not in this moment. Not as her doctor came into the room. “It looks like we’re going to have a baby today,” she declared in a nonchalant tone that should have eased some of Sara’s nerves but didn’t. She walked them through what to expect, including the steroid shots that would be given to boost the baby’s lungs in these final hours before delivery, reassuring both Wyatt and Sara that there was absolutely no reason for her to suspect anything to go awry. And then she left them, Sara’s eyes immediately filling with tears. “Today,” she said, wiping away the drops against her cheek. “We’ll get to hold him today. Are you ready?”

Despite having taken on the brunt of responsibility in the home-front, Wyatt was still running his own business, even at a scaled back pace. With the birth of their son coming within a few weeks, he knew he’d have to wrap up any major projects before he was tied to their home, tasked with looking after Bennett, their new child, and Sara as well. He was eager with anticipation, but still anxiety ridden at the prospect of all there was still left to do, including all the preparations they’d been putting off. Sara had been relaxing, and Wyatt was always remiss to interrupt her to ask what he should do or worse still, how to do it. She was rather precise with how she liked things done, and, well, Wyatt hadn’t been around for Bennett’s pregnancy, so he couldn’t possibly know what he didn’t know. 

When he heard his name called, Wyatt peeled up from his drafting table, pencil plucked behind his ear as he hustled down the hall. “Coming!” He called in response, taking a hasty pace down the hall, finding her rifling around their bedroom. “You okay?” His question, of course, was met with the ultimate response — it was time. “Oh, holy shit.” He gasped out a breath, finding he was in the same flurry that Sara was. “Okay, Bennett is with your dad… Um, the car seat? The fucking diaper bag. Look, let’s just — we’ll get you there, and then Wesley can come over and get that stuff together. He knows what to do. Right? Right.” He spoke rapidly, the mental checklist falling to disarray as he struggled to keep a single thought straight.

“Sara — okay, let’s breathe. Just breathe.” He coaxed, not daring to stop her from her ministrations, but instead rushing into their en-suite bathroom to collect her toiletries. “We should go, right? Like, right now. Do we need to — I’ll text Derek.” He completed his own thought, as if to lighten the burden that might be on Sara’s mind. “C’mon, honey. Let’s get you in the car.” He added as he dropped her toiletries into the mess that was her overnight bag. “If there’s anything missing, we can get it dropped off.”

& —

Wyatt may have missed Sara’s pregnancy with Bennett, but at least he had done this part once before. Had been with Sara during the initial panic and everything that followed. Had been there to hold her hand as their son entered the world. And that was enough to placate some of Sara’s nerves. Enough so that a light laugh escaped her lips as she watched the man bustle around the room. “I’m okay,” she answered first, following him into their bathroom. She grabbed a towel, though knew it would do very little against the now soaked yoga pants. “No contractions yet, but-” she glanced down her front once more, unable to see even her toes beyond her bump. “This feels like more than a little leaking.” There it was, the return of the panic that had been snubbed simply by Wyatt’s presence. “It’s too early,” she worried, tears filling her eyes. “We’re supposed to have six more weeks.”

Six weeks or six days, it didn’t matter. Wyatt was right. The first thing they needed to do was get to the hospital, see exactly what was going on. “It will probably be hours before he’s ready if they can’t stop it,” she said to assure them both. Bennett had come into this world quick and demanding, but she’d poured over enough maternity books to know that it wasn’t always the case. And there was still a chance their son wouldn’t be born today, right? Sara held little hope of that as she felt the steady trickle of amniotic fluid, but maybe. “Ok — yes, text Derek, please.” All parties had agreed that he wouldn’t be in the room when Sara gave birth. She only wanted Wyatt next to her. Perhaps, her sister if she could get there in time. But, Derek was given the option of waiting until the baby was born or keeping to the waiting room. 

Forty minutes later, she’d been wheeled up to Labor & Delivery, settled into a hospital bed and hooked up to fetal monitors. Now, they just waited for her doctor to let them know what was next. “I’m nervous, Wy,” she said, her legs hanging over the side of the bed as the first cramping signs of contractions rolled through her midsection. “He’s too little right now.” She didn’t want to think or care about anyone else right now, but she still found herself asking — “Any word from Derek?”

So rare were the days that the Bennett-Hill household rested in prolonged silence that Sara found it felt wrong as she lounged across the couch, not so much as a giggle or chime of a toy piercing the air. But, Bennett was gone with Patrick and she hadn’t wanted to disturb Wyatt while he worked. She knew she should get every bit of rest she could. Chasing after a one-year-old while being eight months along was no small feat. Yet, her mind wouldn’t stop going through the ever-running list of to-dos. The diaper bag still went unpacked, as well as her own hospital bag, and she kept forgetting to ask Wyatt to check the car seat she installed in her SUV, knowing they probably would have had it done professionally if she held even an ounce of patience. And there were those shelves she’d bought for the nursey last week.

Relaxing would have to wait, she decided, hauling herself from the cushions and heading for the stairs. She was nearly to the top when she felt it. That little pop, the only warning she had before the front of her navy yoga pants darkened and she felt a trickle of water run down her leg. Her mind emptied leaving her frozen in place for a dragging few seconds before she called back down stairs, “Wyatt!”

Despite having done this once before, her voice was tinted with panic. The fucking diaper bag wasn’t even packed yet, she thought again before covering the distance from the staircase to the master bedroom, wasting no time haphazardly throwing things into her own bag. She was only 34 weeks along. They should have had another month. More than that even. “Wyatt,” she called again even as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. She turned to him, eyes wide in disbelief. “I’m pretty sure my water just broke.”

“Yeah?” Kevin asked, a quiet invitation for Sara to go on, and say as much as she wanted about the conference. He couldn’t help but grin at the glow in her expression: it was clear to him, at least, that it was more than simple excitement she felt. “It sounds like it was really special,” he said honestly. “You’ve definitely got a spark when you talk about it.” And it was nice to see that spark back again. “Do you think you’ll keep in touch with some of the writers you met?” Maybe it would be enough to have met, and connected with those writers, published and not, but Kevin rather believed it was good to be able to talk to someone who really understood what you were going through, whatever that might be.

“I probably should’ve sold tickets,” he agreed, chuckling softly at the memory. It had been great fun to sit in his mother’s kitchen, sipping beer and watching his nenek peer over his mother’s shoulder as she prepared a curry. His mother had taken the advice of her mother-in-law in good grace, sometimes even teasing playfully in return. “But, wait … really? You want to ignore your birthday this year?” He was the sort of friend who made a fuss over every occasion and milestone, but if Sara really wanted to have the day go uncelebrated, he supposed he could do that, as unnatural as it would feel.

Kevin held onto both cones as Sara paid, glad that they hadn’t started to drip by the time she’d finished. “Thank you, again, for this,” he said as he led the way to one of the tables. He’d return her cone once they were seated; it would leave Sara free to grab napkins.

& —

“No problem,” she answered, tucking her card back into her wallet. Sara quickly gathered a handful of napkins and followed Kevin to the shop’s windowfront counter. No sooner had she settled onto the stool had she reached for her cone. “Yeah,” she answered with a grin, continuing their conversation about the conference. “It was exactly what I needed to get through a bit of writer’s block to be honestly. There are a few people I plan to keep in touch with, if for no other reason that to bounce ideas back and forth.” Of course, she had also run into Derek. And hadn’t said a word about it to Wyatt. Days had passed since then and the further she was from the moment, the more she realized she should have at least let him know. But, saying something now didn’t feel right either. 

“Can I get your advice on something?” she asked, her tone shifting with the weight of her thoughts. How many times had Kevin been a sounding board for her? Had listened while withholding judgement? Sara had long since lost count. “But, before that, to answer your question — maybe not ignore my birthday, but I definitely don’t want anyone to make a big fuss about it. I’m almost nine months pregnant. I barely have the energy to roll out of bed in the mornings,” she told him, an easy chuckle falling from her lips.