#chblurb

The bedroom door is closed, no light spills under it. No noise breaks through the wood. His hand apprehensively reaches for the doorknob, trying to be quiet as the night falls on his shoulders. The door softly swings open with a sigh and as his eyes become accustomed to the dark he notices the shape under the covers. You’ve tucked yourself in, a spill of hair on the pillow, arms pulling the sheets taut up around your chin. Duke laying beside you, undisturbed and too uncaring to move from his perch. Calum smiles, soft and serene as he winds way around the bed to kiss you goodnight.

He stops short at the sight of you. Moonlight glimmers against tear tracks down your sullen cheeks. Red, puffy eyes stay tightly shut. Calum’s smile quickly turns to a frown, an ache consuming him as he drops to a knee and reaches gentle fingers out to stroke through your hair. He doesn’t understand why you’re feeling this way but it doesn’t stop him from consoling you. Your eyes flutter open slowly and as you register his presence you bite your lip as fresh tears gather in your eyes.

You pull away from him, bury yourself back under the covers and stay silent.

“Sweetheart, are you okay? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Calum’s voice is soft and encouraging, trying to coax some words out of you. When you don’t speak, only slightly shake as his hands glide over your arms, Calum feels crestfallen. The silence threatens to swallow him whole. Usually, he knows what’s wrong, can pinpoint the reason for your emotions and pain.

“It’s nothing, okay, it’s just stupid.”

Your explanation is shaken and does little to instill faith in its reason. Calum shakes his head. He wants to tell you that there’s no such thing as a stupid reason for being upset but the words stall in his throat as he tries to climb in next to you but you make no room.

“It’s like this every year. I should be used to it by now.”

Your next explanation further drives Calum to worry. In a snap moment, like a wave crashing over his head, he finally understands. His hand darts to his phone in his pocket, your birthday lighting up the date on the screen. He lets out a broken and uneasy breath as all of the implications try to drown him.

He forgot your birthday. You’ve been alone all day.

“Sweetheart, I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers with a strain in his voice.

He can feel his own tears pooling in his eyes, shame and guilt assaulting all of his senses. He’s never missed your birthday before. Has always been there from the moment you woke up to the minute you fell asleep. You’ve confided your dislike of the day to him multiple times; he’s noted that he’s the only one who remembers. Cards from family come in days late, texts from friends are last minute and half hearted. All you’ve ever wanted, all you’ve ever asked for on your special day is to have him around.

You shudder out a broken breath, shift under the sheets but make no move to let him in or come closer.

“It’s okay. You’ve been busy at the studio. That comes first, I understand,” you whisper so lowly it’s barely audible but it still cuts deep against Calum’s racing heart.

“It’s not okay, it doesn’t come first,” he tries to reassure and tentatively reaches out for you again. This time, you don’t flinch away. He takes it as a good sign. “I’m going to make it up to you. I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not the first person to forget, you won’t be the last. It’s always been like this.” You finally shift up and Calum opens his arms for you though there’s little hope in his chest that you might collide into his embrace. It takes you a moment, bleary eyes being rubbed and lip trembling, to get collected. Your gaze meets his. “I’m just glad you’re home now.”

His faith nearly knocks him off his knee as you collide into him and wrap your arms around his neck. Bury your face against the strength of his shoulder. Weep in a small but heart breaking way.

“I’m home,” he repeats and furrows his brows, knowing it’s not enough. His entire chest aches and his eyes burn but he holds his composure, knowing his guilt needs to be put on the back burner for you; it’s small in comparison to the emotions and abandonment that have sat with you all day. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”

He almost promises that he won’t let go, he won’t leave, but a plan burns through the back of his mind and he knows his departure is imminent. He takes solace in the fact you’re exhausted enough to be led back to laying down with heavy eyelids. He murmurs and hums to you until your eyes flutter closed and he’s sure you’re asleep by the sound of your even breathing.

He stands, stretches and keeps his eyes on you for as long as possible. When he finally cuts around the corner of the bed he pats Duke’s head.

“Stay right here. I’ll be back,” he whispers to the old dog, hoping if you wake again his presence will suffice until he’s back.

He’s not gone long. His plan is simple but he hopes it’s enough. You’ve never asked for anything, but the hopes of restoring your ruined day live in petals and icing and charms. He goes back into the house and makes a beeline for the bedroom, gently wakes you and guides you up.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you rub the sleep and leftover sadness from your eyes.

Calum shakes his head, winds his arms around you and helps you to your feet. Your wobbly at first, emotionally exhausted after all of the turmoil. You lean into his side and for the feeling of your warmth against him he’s grateful.

“Trying to make it right,” he answers as he guides you away from the bed and towards the door. “There’s still a few hours of your birthday left. Let me try, okay?”

You nod as you’re led out of the bedroom and to the dimly lit kitchen. Calum walks you to the bar where flowers, some with already dying petals, sit in a vase. A lone cupcake with a candle and flame sits alongside the flowers. A small breath leaves you at the effort. While Calum feels it’s lame, the last picks at the store on the shelf, his heart still hammers at the genuine appreciation in your eyes.

“Come sit,” he encourages as he props a stool around for you. You do as he bids and he looms behind you to softly sing happy birthday in your ear; each line punctuated by a small kiss to your neck, shoulder, cheek, anywhere his lips can reach. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Make a wish.”

He brings the cupcake and the flaming candle towards you, gentle hands holding it within your breath’s reach. You turn to face him as you take the cupcake, his eyes soften as yours find his. You blow it out in one small huff and remove the candle. The frosting and cupcake are a bit stale but you share the treat with a few soft giggles and a swipe of chocolate to his nose. Though the petals are dying you pull the vase to the center of the counter before turning back to Calum to put yourself securely in his arms.

“I didn’t need the flowers or cupcake,” you start and before Calum can speak any words of you deserving more you continue on. “I just need you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to the top of your head. His fingers stroke through your hair and his hands come to settle on the small of your back. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again. You’ll always have me. Any day. Every day. I promise.”

You nod against his chest, your trust and faith in him infallible even after the day of desertion and misery.

“Then my wish came true,” you whisper as your cheeks blaze at the confession. Calum chuckles as you further hide against him. “You can’t laugh at me. It’s still my birthday.”

And even when the sun rises the next day, birthday long gone and the heartache of being alone starting to be forgotten, Calum wakes you with a surprise. You sit up to see him throwing your clothes in open luggage.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, eyebrows furrowed as you watch him neatly fold and then haphazardly throw garments in the bag.

“Packing your stuff.”

He doesn’t further explain and it prompts a, “why?” from you.

“So you have clothes to wear on our vacation.” He gives you a broad smile as the words roll off his tongue and he reaches behind him to throw papers onto the bed. They settle at your feet and you reach down to retrieve them, blurry words coming in and finally being processed. Boarding passes.

“Vacation?”

“Two weeks. Just us,” Calum explains as he goes back to packing your things for you. “We leave in an hour.”

The time limit pushes you up from the bed, his effort and act of grandeur making you throw yourself into his arms. Your clothes drop to the floor in favor of him bringing you closer.

“That’s more than I could have asked for,” you whisper with a crack in your voice.

Calum only smiles and finally says the words he’d been thinking for so long. “You deserve even more than this. Sorry it’s late. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

* * *

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You follow Calum through the house, bare feet padding against the wooden floors. It’s silent and still. He grabs his packet of cigarettes from the table and opens the back doors, leaving it open behind him to let some air in, and so Duke can follow you out if he wants to. He sits down first on one of the chairs at the opposite end of the garden, opening his arms, waiting for you to climb into his lap.

It takes a bit of manoeuvring but you manage to settle in his lap — your legs swung over his, one strong arm around your back, keeping you there. You tuck your face against his neck, finding comfort in the warmth of his skin and the scent of his cologne buried in the fabric of the hoodie he threw on. You press your lips to the column of his throat, leaving a kiss there — there’s nothing behind it, just a simple show of affection, and appreciation that he’s there with you.

“You shouldn’t think so much,” Calum murmurs, the hand he’s not using to hold you brushing over your temple; like he’s trying to soothe the thoughts away. You don’t say anything, just glance up at his face whilst he talks — knowing in the back of your mind that he’s right. “Too caught up in your head, angel. That’s why you don’t sleep.”

You sigh, eyes focused on the pattern of his hoodie — your fingers tracing the design. You were going to stay quiet but decide on a sarcastic comment instead; murmuring a “thanks, Dr Hood,” and receiving a playful slap to the thigh in return.

“Smart arse,” He retorts, shifting you a little so he can light a cigarette. It’s a habit you know he’s tried to quit, but not something you nag him about. Somehow, a smell that was once a nuisance to you now reminds you of your kind hearted boyfriend. “Well, if you don’t need me, I’ll just go back to bed, see if I care.”

You can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks, making sure he turns his head to blow the smoke away from you. You hum in acknowledgment, tucking your legs up closer to yourself, to retain some heat. Neither of you have checked what time it is, but it’s still completely dark — deep skies highlighted by flickers of stars, with no sign of the sun coming up any time soon. There’s a chill in the air, setting over your skin — Calum rubs his hand up and down your calf, a warm palm soothing the goosebumps that have risen. His chapped lips brush your bare shoulder between drags of the cigarette between his fingers, where his shirt has slipped down.

“Oh, but you do care,” You reply, reaching up to brush your pointer finger down his cheek, to coax him to look at you. He does, and it’s as intense as ever — you have these moments where you look at each other, really look, and it says more than any words could. “You wouldn’t leave your girl out here alone, would you?”

He chuckles a little, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, against your cheek. You know you’ve got him when he laughs like that, when he’s stumped on what sarcastic comment to make next. It’s not often he lets you win, but on this occasion, you’re right.

“I would never,” His tone is softer now — there’s no sarcasm behind it. He puts out the cigarette and pecks your lips once, then twice, the slight taste of smoke lingering on his lips. He nudges his nose against yours and kisses your cheek, staying there for a moment, before he moves to rest his cheek against the top of your head. “Can’t get enough of you, sweetheart. Even in the middle of the night, apparently.”

You don’t say anything else for the moment, just basking in the silence of the night — zoning out as you gaze at the stars, losing yourself in the feeling of Calum’s fingertips touching whatever skin he can reach. They trail up and down your thigh, and occasionally up and down your arms. His lips rest against your hairline, and he pecks kisses there every few minutes.

“As much as I love sitting here with you,” He murmurs after a little while, hand gently tapping your thigh, to get your attention. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t falling asleep in his lap, soothed by the night sky, his gestures, and just being around him in general. “I don’t think it would be very good for your posture to sleep here all night, my love. Also, I definitely have pins and needles in my arm now.”

You exhale deeply, and Calum laughs at how dramatic he thinks you are, since you only have to go inside — although he is quite comfy with you curled up in this lap.

“C‘mon, baby,” He coaxes you to stand up, warm palms sliding up your thigh. He kisses your cheek before you reluctantly pull away from him, climbing out of his lap, stretching your body as you go. He stands up after you, keeping a hand on the small of your back to guide you back into the house. “Let’s go to bed.”

Calum locks the back door behind him, and soon enough, you find yourself back in bed, except now — it’s Calum who's awake. He’s in the centre of his bed, one arm wrapped around your bare shoulders, holding you against his chest. Over the last few months he’s realised that’s your favourite way to sleep — face pressed against him, an arm over his stomach. You don’t always wake up in the same position, but as long as you’re touching each other in some way, you find yourself sleeping better. Duke, who clearly wasn’t phased by your little venture outside, is still fast asleep, his fur tickling Calum’s calf. It feels like home, he thinks; just where he should be.

Calum pulls his duvet up and over your back, covering you both, before he sets his phone down on his bedside table. He loves how the sheets smell of you and him combined now, after you’ve slept there for the past few weeks. It’s not just his bed now, it’s yours too. He brushes a kiss to your forehead, his thumb soothing over your hairline, and he takes a moment just to realise how thankful he is that you’re there with him.

“Sleep tight, baby.”

***

To be continued!

Masterlist

The day is perfect.

The flowers are in bloom. The sun shines. The altar is beautiful.

The groom is perfect.

His dark eyes are shining, trailing down the aisle, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It’s a familiar smile. One you’ve seen a thousand times. One he’s given you around a laugh he tries to keep quiet. One that says more than his words can. One that speaks love into the air. A smile that was meant especially for you.

The bouquet in your hands shakes but you see the love that softens his face and you know there’s no stopping it.

You’re lost in the glamor of black and white, remembering fog drifting through the late night sky. His giggles as you compared the dark of the sky to his eyes. The dimple in his cheek you poked before he enveloped your hand with his. A bare ring finger begging for a promise squeezing against the back of your hand. Lifelines joining.

You’re lost in the way he sways at the altar, remembering the sway of a dance under the stars. The way his hands had settled on your waist and felt just right. The taste of his lips on yours as he whispered promises against them. The notion that someday a dance would be shared in front of family and friends, but the world behind you wouldn’t matter, you’d be too wrapped up in your husband’s arms to care about anything else.

You’re lost in the flowers living on the arch, remembering summer nights in twinkling gardens with cobblestone paths. Flowers tucked in your hair, tucked in his hair, spilling out of pockets. Petals trailing from the front door to the bedroom. The hope they may someday lead you to him and the altar.

You’re lost in the crowd of happy faces, eyes filled with tears, remembering the way they had tracked down your cheeks on an unusually cold night. The fingers that had gently wiped them away. The shaking breath that collided with the cold air. The arms that enveloped you. The way you wanted, wished and willed for them to never ever let you go.

You’re lost in the words of promise that echo through the crowd. Remembering vows you weren’t sure he could keep. Words that sounded too good to be true.

He smiles again. That familiar smile. The one that was meant for you.

He smiles at her as you stand by her side.

Your “best friend”.

His bride.

She’s more than you’ll ever be. More than a fleeting summer romance under the stars. More than wine drunk smiles and wandering hands. More than midnight moments of whispered secrets. More than flowers in pockets. More than empty promises.

She’s a lifetime. A toast of champagne and delicate fingers tucking hair behind ears. She’s lurid against the morning sun, wrapped up in slept in sheets. She’s bouquets and arrangements. She’s the vow he can keep that leaves his lips and lives in his eyes. She’s the perfect bride for the perfect groom.

The perfect couple.

You are abandoned.

Betrayed.

By him and then her.

Writhing in the heart ache of being alone. Of not being enough. Of standing by her side when she didn’t have your back or care about your broken heart.

Only broke it further.

He promises himself to her.

She says “I do” and he does too.

***

“Just breathe for a minute,” He says it like it’s so simple, and for anyone else, it would be. Yet you feel as though as soon as you release your breath, everything comes crashing down with it — somehow it’s easier to tense up and let your eyes focus on a random spot on the wall. His tone is smooth and reassuring — he makes a conscious effort to keep his voice soft, as he knows anything more will make you feel worse. He throws a leg over yours, almost pressing you against the soft mattress of the bed — he knows the weight helps you to feel grounded.

He’ll never forget the first time you had an anxious day when he was around; your eyes wouldn’t quite meet his and your hands trembled when he tried to hold them. He hadn’t been sure of what to do, how to make you feel better or whether he could. He’ll also never forget the way you pulled him on top of you, letting him lay almost flat against you on the sofa, finally seeing some relief in your expression at the release of the anxiety that had consumed you that day. As soon as he got home, he had ordered a weighted blanket — hoping the sensation would provide similar comfort to what he does, when he can’t be around. He still uses it now, when he is here — when he wants to hold you but you still need the weight of something against you. It’s tucked under the bed, and it’s been a while since you needed it — but he feels as though it could make an appearance tonight.

“You’re okay,” He reassures you, calloused thumbs brushing over your temples, trying to convince you to relax your face. He can feel your tensed jaw, knowing you’re clenching your teeth — but he knows he can only focus on alleviating one thing at a time. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you are. I’m staying right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. We’re gonna ride this out together.”

The unshed tears lining your eyes don’t go unnoticed, and it makes Calum’s heart ache that what he sees as so little is a big deal to you. He doesn’t have to think twice about trying to help, trying to convince your anxious brain that you’re not in danger. Yet he knows previously you’ve had no choice but to deal with it yourself, and now, having Calum around is a blessing.

He reaches over for the TV remote and turns down the volume as well as the brightness, not wanting you to be overstimulated by the surroundings — another thing he’s made note of is how restless you get when there’s too much going on. He doesn’t turn it off completely though — although he has no idea what show is on, he doesn’t care; it’s background noise to distract you from whatever thoughts are swirling around your mind.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” You murmur, your voice so quiet that he almost doesn’t hear you. You fear making it louder will disturb the lump in your throat. Calum shakes his head, his face so close to yours that his nose nudges yours when he moves. The words are true; although there’s only so much he can do, having him around makes everything feel brighter, easier — you wake up looking forward to what the day with him holds, rather than the emptiness you once felt every morning.

“You deserve the whole world and more, baby. I wish I could give it to you.” Calum admits, lips brushing yours as he speaks, ending the sentence with a soft kiss. He’s told himself time and time again that he can’t take your anxiety away, and you’ve told him that you don’t expect him to — yet he so desperately wishes he could. He wishes he never has to see you cry, or hold your hair in the bathroom of a social event you don’t want to be at. “You deserve to be happy, and to enjoy yourself. I wish you believed that too.”

Somehow, with Calum around, you’re starting to.

The more you fall for him, the more you trust him and his words — he truly wants you to be happy, wants the best for you, and it makes you want it for yourself, too. He doesn’t rush you though. He doesn’t expect you to be happy every day — he isn’t himself. You’re human and you have bad days, but he wants to be around to make sure they’re just that — bad days, not weeks, or years.

Calum’s gentle whispers against your forehead work wonders in getting your mind to settle down, he’s something to focus on — finally able to release your jaw, your tongue dropping from the roof of your mouth. He feels your shoulders relax for the first time in hours and he’s relieved too — it makes him feel better. His hand is warm as he smoothes it across the top of your back, a gentle pressure that grounds you and reminds you that he’s there. He feels your hands that were brushing through the soft curls at the back of his neck come to a stop, your grip loosening as you allow yourself to relax.

He’s sure he’ll never forget the feeling of you falling asleep on him — it kicks in an instinct he’s never felt before, like he’ll do anything in his power to keep you comfortable and protect you. He feels it deep in his chest, like he could explode with the love he feels for the person sleeping in his arms. It’s like the world stands still, so content that you’re comfortable enough to rest with him, to let both your mind and body sleep, knowing that he’s got you. He loves how normal it feels; that he can just sit scrolling through his phone or watching the TV whilst you sleep, and you know he won’t go anywhere. You’re a comforting weight to him, and he’s starting to understand why it helps when you’re feeling anxious. He finds himself keeping up the soothing gestures, even when you’re already passed out, convincing himself that you still feel it, in your sleep.

Calum takes the hand that’s clinging to his hoodie with a firm grip and laces his fingers between yours, gently squeezing, his lips pressed to your knuckles in a loving gesture. He doesn’t say anything but a smile graces his lips when you ever so softly squeeze back, and he can’t remember a time where he’s ever felt so loved.

He has no intention of moving, not until he absolutely has to; there’s nowhere else he would rather be.

“Goodnight, my love.”

**

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For weeks you’ve settled into a nightly routine with your neighbor. You sit out on your balcony, a warm drink in hand, twinkle lights blinking against the dark, blending in with the stars. Calum’s music drifts from his home and heart to yours. The first time it happened was an accident. You needed an escape from the chaos of inside; you’d spent too much time behind closed doors, in stuffy rooms and behind screens that made your eyes bleary. You needed a breath of fresh air and a sight of the stars. His music welcomed you, beckoned you to take a seat and stay a while. The next night you went out in hope that he would already be playing. You were met with silence, until you turned your lights on and the first note struck. And it continued that way every night after.

You sit and wait, eyes scanning through the glass of the French door, hoping to hear the creak of them opening, waiting to see Calum’s small wave and blushing cheeks. You hope to hear his voice tonight and not just the soft melodies of the piano. Only a few times has he sung along to the songs he plays. Those nights are your favorites. His voice is alluring, soft but deep and soothing. The words he sings are always new to you; you wonder what they look like in his scrawl, knowing he must have written them down at one point. There’s a lot of things you don’t know about your neighbor across the street, but you do know your heart flutters when his balcony light switches on.

The doors open slowly and he peeks out into the night. Curls fall in his face and he’s quick to brush them back. He offers you a shy smile, cheeks already rosy, and lifts his hand for a small greeting. You nod back at him, feeling your skin prickle as he steps back inside to the piano angled at the door. All you can see when he takes up position in his shadowed profile and it leaves you wondering how it would be to see his fingers dance across the keys, if his face shows his concentration.

The song starts slowly and for the first time you recognize it. A lullaby from your childhood drifts through the night air and brings a soft smile to your face. No words are needed for the night though you crave to hear his voice again. Your eyes slip shut, completely content with the music and the warm breeze that floats by. You find yourself humming to the tune in a soft whisper, something so low you yourself can barely hear it. You don’t know how much time passes as you drift through the music and let yourself relax to the sounds of your childhood. Only when the music stops do your eyes spring open and warmth of embarrassment shoots through you when you find Calum’s gaze steadily on yours. He’s stepped out onto his balcony, hands clutching the rails and teeth sunken into his lower lip.

You stand and twirl, out of sorts and out of wits to carry you back inside. You don’t want to leave yet. You slowly approach the edge of your balcony, hands mimicking his as they reach for the ivy covered railing. Calum smiles as you lean forward, hoping to catch more than a shadowed glimpse of him. He’s lurid and calm under the lights. His rosy cheeks much more prominent. The tattoos on his hands catching your eye.

“Did you enjoy it tonight?” he asks and you realize it’s the first time he’s spoken to you since offering his name and disappearing when you first moved in across the street.

“Yes,” you answer and feel flames come alive inside of you. “It was beautiful.”

There’s a beat of pause that ensues between you. The silence echoes around the cavernous distance, an entire street keeping you apart. You shiver although the night is still warm. His gaze stays level on you and yours does the same; somehow the eye contact feels natural. After hearing the songs in his heart for so many nights, seeing his gaze doesn’t phase you.

“Do you think I could see you in the morning?” Calum asks and the quiet reverie is shattered. “We could have breakfast on the balcony. I could play you another song.”

You nod and your breath catches in the back of your throat at the thought of it. Calum under sunlight, music in the daytime and breakfast on balconies seems like a dream. “I’d really love that.”

Calum claps a hand to the back of his neck and grins. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“In the morning,” you promise and watch him disappear back into his home, knowing that morning can’t come soon enough.

***

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Calum hears her moving around the loft, crawling in the minimal space and shuffling through unrecognizable items. She comes back to him in only a moment, her fingertips gracing the curves of his back once more, dancing on his shoulder blades and down his spine. He feels goosebumps raise on his skin at the soft contact. He smiles and keeps his eyes closed.

Her fingertips abandon him, the warmth that emanated from her touch turning cold. Calum turns his head in interest but one hand with gentle motion turns him away.

“Just trust me,” she whispers fondly and when the next swipe of cold hits his skin he understands. The soft bristles of her paintbrush tickle at him as paint creates art on his body. “Try to be still,” she further instructs. Calum hears her blow out a breath and can only imagine she’s attempting to get hair from her face without using her hands.

“You know, you have stacks of canvases taking up space in storage,” Calum teases and hears her small noise of protest at the lighthearted chiding. “If you’re just going to use me we could really use the space.”

Another lick of the brush hits just below his shoulder blades and makes him want to move; an attack on a soft spot she knows makes him squirm. He stays still though, determined not to mess up her art; even if he may never be able to see it.

“We’ll call this…” she says and muses for the right word for a moment. “A rough draft.”

Another swipe of paint hits his skin in a zig zag and Calum can only guess what she might be up to. A mountain range she stares out at from the loft window. A harsh wave she once saw on a horizon. Something so abstract he won’t be able to guess what it is, won’t be able to discern even when she divulges the details to him, or something else entirely.

“A rough draft, eh?” Calum asks and though he’s tempted to turn over and catch her eye, to see how content she is with a paintbrush in her hand, paint on her skin and sunlight gleaming against her hair he again resists the urge and follows her instructions. “Your art is always perfect.”

A little noise leaves her at the compliment and after years of witnessing her blushes and fluttered mannerisms Calum still manages to find himself missing the sight. He wishes he could turn away and imprint the sight of her humbleness into his mind, at least, another sight of it. He only has hundreds of those moments locked away, store in his mind and his heart.

“It won’t be if you keep wiggling,” she points out and through Calum’s every effort to stay still he realizes he’s acted on instinct to the feel of her on his skin. She uses her fingers along his spine, he doesn’t know why, but he appreciates the feel and the presence of her instead of the brushes. “Not much longer love,” she promises and Calum quells the urge to react to her once more.

Quiet settles around them as she continues to paint, only the soft hum of Duke’s snores and the occasional chirp of birds sounding around their small home. Calum is left to wonder; once more envisioning what might claim his back. He buries his face into his arms and hears her small sigh as he does so. He lays still, wishing her fingers weren’t coated in paint so they might trail up to his curls and offer him a different kind of affection.

She leaves him again but she’s not told him he can move and in fear of messing up her work he stays where he is. He hears her come back and only when a flash catches the corner of his vision does he turn. A Polaroid camera is in her hands and he knows she’s smiling behind it as she captures her work. The photo comes out in a moment and she grabs for it as Calum sits himself upright, curious to see the outcome and if his best efforts to stay still were worthwhile. Her fingers pinch the corner and she shields it from his view with a teasing smile.

“Oh did you want to see?” she asks and scrunches up her nose as Calum maneuvers himself closer to her. He nods and she lets out a mischievous giggle. “Maybe I should make you wait to see it until it’s on canvas,” she banters from his earlier teasing. “I am using up so much storage space, after all.”

Calum’s nod turns to a playful shake of his head. “I’ll do anything to see it now.”

She considers it with a lighthearted shrug and purses his lips for a moment. “A kiss for a sneak peek?” she bargains, knowing it’s a deal Calum could never resist; he wins both ends of the deal.

He smiles as he closes the distance and grants her wish and then some; a soft kiss to her lips tastes of cinnamon and a small peppering of kisses to her cheeks brings honey to his senses.

“Alright, alright,” she says through laughter and brings the photo around so Calum can see.

The mountains stare back at him, morning blues blending the sky and the tops of the peaks into one. It makes the world calm, serene and soft. He smiles.

“I told you,” he begins and gives her another kiss. “It’s perfect.” Her head shakes just a bit, hair falling in her face as she gets flustered. “Where to next?” he asks, wondering where their adventures would bring them and what painting and poetry might come of it.

“I don’t want to leave yet,” she admits and when Calum arches an eyebrow—her tendency to flutter from place to place seemingly idle—she shrugs. “I’ve heard there’s a secret trail we ought to find. I think it’d look beautiful on your back.”

Calum chuckles at her reasoning but nods. He’ll follow her down a secret trail, up a mountain, into the woods, to the bottom of the sea or the ends of the earth. He knows wherever they go something beautiful will come of it.

^^^

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With every footstep down the sterile hallway he wishes your hand could still be in his. He’s stopped short, a nurse he barely recognizes from his disconnect while at your side stands in front of him.

“They’re bringing her to the NICU,” the nurse says and though her voice and eyes are kind Calum feels fear and frustration rising inside of him, boiling and breaking him as she stands in his way. “You can’t go in yet.”

“What—I’m—she’s my daughter,” he stumbles out, throat on fire and eyes burning just the same.

“They’re getting her in an incubator. She needs oxygen and vital care,” she says and goes on to explain it will take a bit of time. “When she’s ready you’ll be able to go in. You’ll need to scrub up and wash your hands first.”

Calum shakes his head, not quite able to process all of this information on the spot. He lets out a shaky breath, curls his fingers into his palms, feels the coolness of his wedding ring on his skin and it reminds him of you; he lets the thought of you attempt to calm him. His head shake turns to a nod though he’s still not sure he can completely comprehend all that is happening.

“When can I see her?” he finally manages to get out though it’s not without a fight or a broken syllable.

“Follow me,” the nurse offers and without thinking Calum is walking down the hallway again, trailing the nurse to a break in the white wall where a window rests. “You can watch from here.”

The view is startling. Machines and equipment line the NICU, doctors and nurses pass in and out and create fears with every step they take. It takes a moment to find the team that delivered your baby, joined by a few new nurses and another doctor. Just past the crowd he can see the incubator and your daughter being settled within, tubes for oxygen and the like disguising her small face. Her eyes are closed and though she looks peaceful the striking contrast of your sleeping daughter and the dire circumstances are enough to choke Calum. He can’t watch the rest, his eyes skirt to the floor but he stays put. He’s not leaving her, his resolve is shaken but stays intact. He wants you with him, he wants her to be on the other side of the glass, in his arms, welcomed to a world without complications.

Time passes in a blur, his eyes fixed on his shoes and the tile floor below. He’s vaguely aware of other people in the hallway. Doctors, parents, nurses and patients all pass him by without a word. The kind nurse is long gone and Calum finds himself wishing he had asked more questions. The silence is deafening. He wants to have your whispered words of reassurance in his ear. He wants the repeated mantra of “it’s gonna be okay” to be believable. His phone buzzes but he doesn’t reach for it. He knows he should make calls. Tell his parents, inform the guys he left with a million questions and concerns in their minds. He doesn’t have the energy or the will to do so.

His shoulders slump but he straightens himself when a doctor approaches.

“Mr. Hood?” he asks, clipboard in hand and cool eyes sweeping him up and down. Calum nods. “You can go in now. Follow me. We have to get you ready.”

Calum’s heart lurches with the first step he takes to follow the doctor, to be with his daughter. He thinks of you, doesn’t want to imagine the panic and pain that being alone is causing you. He reminds himself Mali is with you, that you told him to follow. He’s led to a solid door and ushered through. There’s a room connected to the NICU; cabinets with scrubs and gloves and sanitizer and a medical sink claim the small space. He realizes all parents must enter through here before getting to their babies. In a blink he’s wearing a gown, and his hands are thoroughly washed. He takes just one second to take a breath, to gather courage, keep you in his thoughts and ready his heart for his daughter.

“We usually encourage skin to skin contact to bond with babies while they’re being treated. You can hold her hand, talk to her, she’ll know your voice,” the doctor explains while they approach the incubator.

There’s a thousand questions swirling through Calum’s mind that he wants to ask the doctor beside him. But his breath catches in his throat at the sight of your daughter. Her eyes are still closed from when he first caught a glimpse of her through the window. The incubator is closed, she’s surrounded by the help she needs but holes provide a place for Calum’s hand to find her. The doctor talks to him, Calum knows he should be listening but the whir of the machinery and the thumping of his pulse inside his ears drown out the words. He keeps his gaze on her, swallows back a sob and feels the ache in his heart grow as he realizes you’re alone in the room down the hall, that she’s right in front of him but they’re separated by plastic and plexiglass.

He wants to say something to her, he can’t find words, more than anything he wants to hold her. He can’t. He sinks down to level with her and slowly reaches through to lightly hold her hand that’s so small it brings tears to his eyes. She doesn’t respond but he feels better having even the smallest form of connection to her. He doesn’t even know when he realized that he was right; your baby is the most beautiful little girl he’s ever seen. Your bet is meaningless, winning and names are lost in the plight of life. The doctor leaves eventually but hospital staff still surrounds the NICU, nurses and doctors ready at a moment’s notice. It’s silent save for the hum of the machines. Only a few other babies are being treated, spaced out to afford families privacy. He doesn’t know how long he stays bent over with his hand lightly on hers before he finally finds words.

“We love you,” he tells her, knowing if you were with them you’d say it too.

It might have been minutes but is more likely hours by the time a nurse pulls Calum from her side. The mention of you finally rousing him from his state. He doesn’t want to leave but he wants you. He wars over it for a moment but nods, gives her hand another touch, tells her that you both love her and finds himself wandering the hallway back to you. You’re stricken when he enters the room. Mali is trying to be a calming presence, to keep you in bed, but it seems a losing fight.

“How is she?” you ask, breathless, hopeless and forlorn.

Calum swallows down a lump in his throat, bites back tears and tries to stay strong for you and for her. A rush of the doctor’s words come back to him. What scattered remnants of pieces he barely heard charge through.

“She’s beautiful,” Calum says first, sits down in the chair at your side and takes your hand as softly as he had taken hers. “The doctor said the first twenty four hours are the most vital. They’ll know more at forty eight and even more at seventy two.”

“I want to see her,” you say and Calum hears the edge of hysteria in your tone.

“You need to rest,” Mali tries but falls short when you and Calum both shake your heads.

“I didn’t even get to hold her,” you cry and it’s enough to bring Calum to you, his arms gently around your shoulders. You can’t hold her, he can’t hold her, but you can hold each other and hope. “I want to see her,” you repeat and the words hit Calum’s skin and wrench his heart.

“We’ll ask the doctor if you can,” he promises, not knowing how physically affected you are from labor, not knowing if getting up and going would be okay or not.

“I’ll go get her,” Mali says and excuses herself from the room to track down the doctor and to give you two a private moment.

You’re both quiet for a few seconds, content to hold each other together in the silence. Calum feels your grip on him tighten as you shift in the hospital bed and eventually pull away so he can see your face. He runs his thumbs over your cheeks to wipe away your tears.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, eyes wide and concerned. “I wish I could’ve been there with you. I don’t know how hard that must have been.”

Calum shakes his head as if he’s trying to shake away your worries. You feeling guilty for not being there with and for him was the same war he had about leaving you behind.

“‘I’m”—he says and sucks in a deep breath—“I’m okay. I’ll be okay. She’s gonna be okay,” he finishes and finds a new mantra though it’s hard to believe and each sentence sounds more like a question than the last.

You nod, a small shudder shaking your shoulders and racking your body. Calum reaches for you again, let’s his hands settle on your shoulders to give you strength and comfort.

“I know she will. She’ll be okay, she has to be, she’s half you and you’re the strongest person I know,” you rationalize, eyes lost to the wall in front of you. You look back at Calum and he sees the stony wall you’ve put up start to crack as you gaze at him. “But it’s okay to break sometimes,” you finish and Calum knows you’re saying it to him, reminding him that he can break into your arms and have you there to help him put back the pieces.

For the first time since your daughter was born Calum allows himself to crumble. The tears he’d been fighting back slide down his cheeks and his shoulders slump with the weight of the world. He’s brought back to you by your gentle pull and finds reassurance in the love you show him. Mali comes back in with the doctor and Calum tries to collect himself, wipes tears from his face and clears his throat.

“I hear you’re asking about your daughter,” the doctor says as she steps into the room and takes a sweeping glance at you, Calum and Mali. “Parents are allowed in at all times. Visiting hours for others are seven in the morning to seven at night. Only two at a time.”

“Can I go see her?” you ask, a fragment of hope clinging to your words and getting lost in your eyes at the mention of parents being allowed in whenever.

“In the morning,” the doctor replies and Calum swallows down a lump in his throat, knowing that’s not the answer you wanted. “Your labor was quick but very intense. Your body needs to rest, the drugs need to wear off, you wouldn’t make it down the hallway in your condition.”

Calum sees the refusal cross your face, the staunch disbelief that you can’t see your daughter almost enough to crack anyone’s resolve. The doctor keeps explaining to you but it falls on deaf ears and interjections. You ask if this way would be possible, if that way would, but nothing seems to be possible to the doctor who means to keep you in bed until morning.

“What if she doesn’t have a morning?” you finally ask and suck in a breath as if the words themselves strike physical pain through you. Calum’s nearly certain they did, just the thought is enough to make his chest feel like it’s caving in.

“She’s stable and comfortable. If anything was to happen we would get you in there. For now, please try to get some rest.”

The doctor gets paged and makes her escape. Calum clutches you, holds you and makes whispered promises he’s not sure can be kept.

“I don’t want her alone,” you whimper and Calum follows your gaze out the door.

“I’ll go—do you want me to stay with you? Where do you want me?” he asks, stumbling over his words, unsure where to go or what to do.

You nod. “Go be with her. Please. Make sure she’s okay,” you instruct and Calum can hear how much it pains you to let him go to her without you. He holds your hand, kisses your forehead.

“I’ll come back to check on you in a while,” he promises. “And I’ll take so many pictures of her. Sweetheart, she’s beautiful,” he adds, realizing his first time in the NICU was so filled with shock that not one photo was taken and the only time you’ve seen her was when she was being taken away.

“Thank you,” you whisper, eyes glossy. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he answers without hesitation but takes an extra second to gaze at you before heading out the door.

He’s back with your daughter before he even realizes it. Her small hand is warm inside the incubator, her eyes are still shut and past the tubes that breathe life into her she almost looks peaceful. He takes as many photos as he can without disturbing her. He settles into the hard plastic chair beside her and tilts his head back until it gently thumps against the wall. His hands find his face and rub at his jaw. He hadn’t realized before but it’s been clenched and holding tension for hours. Time passes as he sits at her side, talks to her, sings and hums when she so much as stirs slightly. He’s able to lull her and he takes those moments as victory and ones to keep with him forever. Once more he wishes you were with them, knowing you would be able to do the same for her with the sound of your voice, the gentle touch of your hand. When it nears midnight and she hasn’t stirred in a while and a nurse has come in to check on her, Calum convinces himself it’s time to go check on you.

He knows he could call or text but he misses you. He’s faced with a conundrum as he gets one foot out the door of the NICU. Now he misses her. But he doesn’t have time to do much of either as the kind nurse he recognizes from earlier stops him once more. This time she has a clipboard with papers and pen in her hand.

“Forms for her birth certificate,” she informs.

Calum gapes at the papers. Even the easiest of questions and information seems impossible. You both still don’t even know her name yet.

“You can take your time on them. I’ll be around to help if you have questions,” the nurse says before excusing herself to rush off to help another patient.

Calum’s left with the clipboard in hand, aches in his heart and questions in his mind. He heads back for your room to find you awake and Mali gone. You smile to greet him but Calum can see how flat the gesture is and he can’t blame you.

“Where’s Mali?”

“Getting a coffee. I can’t sleep and she wanted to stay up with me,” you explain and Calum settles himself on the edge of your bed. He takes your hand and places the clipboard on his lap. “What’s that?”

“Forms for her birth certificate,” he says and sighs. “I can’t even fill in her name.”

You squeeze his hand in understanding. “Do what you can,” you reply and inch closer to take a peek at the papers. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you as you each get lost in your own thoughts. “I know you get to name her…”

Calum shakes his head. All bets off. “We’ll decide on something together. I love all the ones on your list,” he tells you and finally gets a genuine smile from you, eyes alight and all.

“I want to see her before we choose, I feel like I don’t even know her.”

Calum trembles at your words and the honesty in them. You carried her for seven months and had about seven seconds to see her before she was carried off. He leans closer to you, gives you many small kisses from your cheek to forehead as worries and fears tumble inside him, each one coming to life and bringing life to others. He drowns them out, for you and for her. He’s already crumbled once. He wants to be resilient. Mali comes back with coffee in hand and tired eyes but such a sheer will to stay Calum can’t even work up the nerve to even suggest she go home and get some sleep. And in all honesty he’s glad she’s here and can be there with you when he can’t.

“I called mum and dad, I hope you don’t mind,” Mali says when she takes a seat on the opposite side of you, sliding into the chair in a tired yet graceful way.

Calum shakes his head. He doesn’t mind at all. He wanted to do it but didn’t have the heart or the words or the right mind to even dial the phone.

“They’re flying out as soon as they can,” Mali further informs, then sips at her coffee. “We’re all gonna be here for you. Both of you. All of you.”

“Thank you,” Calum gets out past a choked up throat and stands to stride to his sister and give her a long overdue hug. She affords him comfort and when she realizes how tired his eyes are she gives him her coffee and says she’ll get another.

Mali leaves again and Calum spends the next few minutes drinking in the caffeine and soaking up some time with you. He wants to get back to your daughter but the war of you being completely alone confronts him once more. He decides to wait until Mali gets back to head back to the NICU. When she does stride back through the door he gives you a kiss, tells you he loves you and makes a promise to stay with her until morning; until you can be with her too.

He spends the night in the uncomfortable hospital chair, hand inside the incubator, finger lightly stroking her tiny hand in soothing rhythms. He talks to her when the moon is out, he shows her pictures of you and doesn’t let it bother him when her eyes don’t stay open for long. He comes to terms with the fact that she’s resting and when she’s resting she’s getting stronger each and every second. Through the night he shifts in the chair but never leaves it. There’s a kink in his neck and his muscles ache by the time morning comes but those pains are minimal in comparison. He rubs at his tired eyes after waking from a miraculous little doze. He straightens and finds her immediately.

“Good morning,” he sings quietly as he gets level with her. Her eyes are barely open. “You get to see your mommy today.”

He knows it’s not likely, probably impossible, but he swears she smiles when he tells her that. His phone buzzes in his pocket. He has no intention of answering it—he’s surprised it still has enough charge to buzz—but he checks who’s calling. Ashton lights up the screen. Calum sends him to voicemail and jumps when motion in his peripheral startles him. Ashton is standing outside the NICU window, looking in at Calum with his phone pressed to his ear. He frowns when he hears the voicemail greeting. Calum gathers up the courage to leave his daughter. He gives her a small goodbye squeeze on her hand, tells her he loves her and exits the NICU, the routine of leaving the used gown behind already set in stone.

“How is she?” Ashton asks, giving no time or thought to explaining how he knew where to go or why he holds a duffel bag in his grip.

Calum wracks his brain, trying to find the last update from a nurse or doctor but comes up short after his long night. He sighs and his shoulders slump.

“She made it through the night,” he says and hears the desperate intone of needing hope in his voice. “What are you doing here? How’d you know?”

“Mali texted, Luke has Duke,” Ashton explained and lifted a worry from Calum. He’d nearly forgotten Duke in the fray of it all. Ashton hoisted the duffel bag up. “I brought you both clothes, phone chargers, and I even have a present for her,” he continues and rummages around in a small gift bag until he pulls out a plush koala bear.

“She’s in a closed incubator,” Calum says though he knows he should be saying thank you instead. He can’t stop the words once they start. “She can’t have anything in there.”

Ashton nods, knowing the slight bite in Calum’s tone is not frustration at the gesture, just the circumstances. “It can go in her nursery.”

“We don’t even have it set up yet.”

Calum knows he’s starting to crack again but he doesn’t know how to stop himself. If it were anyone else he might have had a fighting chance of keeping himself together but Ashton’s been there for unspeakable highs and lows. He can’t fight himself into submission. He can’t keep himself together without a little help from his best friend. That’s exactly what he gets, a comforting hand on his back as the bags hit the floor and a hug to remind him that it’s not just you and him against the world. It takes a few minutes for Calum to pull himself together, to offer an apology for his tone that Ashton shrugs off in understanding and head for your room, the sudden remembrance that you get to finally see your daughter carrying his steps.

He finds you and Mali in the same spots as last night. He can tell you didn’t sleep. Your eyes are bloodshot and heavy but the smallest of smiles captures your lips when you see him.

“You ready?” Calums asks and you nod, needing no other prompting to understand. “Let’s get you dressed then we can go,” he adds on and searches through the duffel bag for some clothes as Ashton and Mali head to the hallway.

“How was last night?” you ask him as you pull a hoodie on.

“Long,” Calum answers and takes a breath. “But she made it through with no problems. I talked about you, showed her pictures, I think she’s excited.”

You laugh at Calum’s recount of the night and his projection of her possible excitement. It’s the first time he’s heard you laugh in nearly twenty four hours. It’s not as hearty and joyous as usual but it’s a start to feeling normal. You both hold onto that feeling as you exit the room and head to get ready for the NICU.

Calum doesn’t know what to expect when you enter and see her for the first time since she was taken away. He figures you might tear up, that you might clutch him or go straight for her. He doesn’t expect you to freeze in your tracks halfway to where she sleeps. He doesn’t know what to do when you wrap your arms around yourself and tremble where you stand.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, come on,” he tries with a soothing voice. He’s a step ahead of you and you continue to stand still. He backtracks to you, puts a reassuring hand on your back. “What’s going on?”

He focuses on the subtleties of your face and is drawn to your eyes. He sees the way they shine and knows that you’ll soon be biting your lip and scrunching your nose as you do your best to hold back your emotions.

“All these machines…” you trail off with eyes roaming the NICU and the sight of dozens of incubators and the like. Calum knows how overwhelming it is but he’s had time to adjust and get used to the hum and flow of the world your daughter lives in.

“They keep the babies safe and comfortable,” he says, knowing that’s what will get through to you. “I’ll show you, she’s nice and cozy, getting stronger every second.”

You nod and take very small steps with Calum at your side. He doesn’t rush you or push you along. He goes at your pace, his eyes skirting from you to your daughter. He knows you can see her from your vantage point. Her eyes are closed as sleep claims her once more. Calum is used to the tubes that give her oxygen and help sustain her life. It startles you when you first approach and Calum witnesses the tears that finally slide down your cheeks. You’re timid at the edge of the incubator, hands curled into fists and steadfast at your sides. He hears your breath shaking and reaches for your hand.

“You can touch her. Hold her hand. She likes that,” Calum informs, knowing his touch and voice had soothed her through the night whenever she stirred. “Like this,” he says and reaches his free hand toward her, lightly stroking the soft skin on the back of her hand. Her eyes open but she stays calm and content.

You go slowly, as if afraid to startle her or scare yourself. Calum retracts his hand from her but keeps his other in yours for support and comfort. It takes one touch for your fears and stone wall to come crumbling down. Your eyes soften as more tears make stride and a sob wracks your body.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you manage to get out through a cracked voice and Calum smiles at the choice of term of endearment. You’ve always been his sweetheart, now you have one of your own. You look up at your husband and Calum meets your eyes. “She looks just like you.”

Calum shakes his head. “She’s you too, look,” Calum says.

You giggle through another cry but Calum knows the tears and sobs are all born of something good. “She’s got your eyes and purses her lips just like you.”

Calum smiles at that. “But that nose and those cheeks are all you.”

“You think so?” you ask, turning away from her to look at Calum with hope in your eyes. He nods. You turn back to look at her and keep up the small rhythm you have of stroking her hand. “Yeah,” you agree upon further inspection with such adoration in your tone it makes Calum laugh.

For as hesitant as you were to enter the NICU it quickly becomes apparent that nothing in the world will tear you from her side. You take up residence in the chair Calum spent the night in, never once letting your hand leave her, keep your voice soothing as you talk to her. Calum finds his way to the other side, content to hold her other hand and listen to the sweet words you whisper to her.

“I love you so much,” you repeat, having found a new mantra. “I can’t wait to bring you home. You’ll get to meet your auntie Mali, grandma and grandpa, all your uncles. Your doggie, Duke. We’re all waiting for you, whenever you’re ready.”

“Some are less patient than others,” Calum says around a laugh as he spies two people on the other side of the window. You make a confused noise until Calum motions over to the window and you both take in the sight of Ashton and Mali waving behind the glass with glossy eyes and smiles to accompany them.

“They’re really special, huh?” you ask and smile, appreciative for all of the effort they’ve put in. You both know you wouldn’t be able to get through this without family by your side.

“The best,” Calum agrees with fond eyes.

You fall into silence, content to stay by her side and do nothing but gaze at her and each other adoringly. Calum doesn’t expect to look up and find you in tears again but he does and it nearly rips his breath away before he detects that though you’re crying it’s a good kind of cry this time.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” he asks.

“This is just—it’s all I’ve wanted,” you manage to get out with your gaze roaming from her to Calum and then to Ashton and Mali still watching from the window. “It’s our family.”

Calum smiles at the sentiment and the honesty in your voice and knows the gesture reaches his eyes and hopes you can feel it in your heart the way he does. He knows your rocky relationship with your parents and that you haven’t felt like family in a long time. They have still yet to meet Calum after bailing on a dinner and the wedding. He’s not sure if you’ve called them about the birth or if they even bothered to answer but he’s happy to see you content with the family that chose you.

You sniffle and meet eyes with Calum. “I have an idea for her name,” you announce and Calum’s heart skips a beat. He’s ready to start calling her by her name, to fill out the forms in his hoodie pocket, but then he laughs as he realizes he might more often than not call her a term of endearment, just like he does with you.

“Anything you want,” Calum promises, knowing that it will be perfect because it came from you and your heart.

***

Another day slips by and Calum finds himself alone with your daughter once more. You’ve been brought back to your hospital room to talk with your doctor and see where you’re at and when you’ll be ready to be discharged. Calum asks you to get some rest while you’re in there. You make no promises but heed his words. You both have thoughts of her name in your heads, still undecided, wanting more time with her to be absolutely sure but feeling that it could be right. Calum’s hanging on by a thin and tattered thread. He’s exhausted and nodding off in the chair when Ashton rouses him with a phone call and coaxes him out into the hall, but not before he spends the time to tell her that he loves her. He meets his best friend in the hall, a yawn falling from him, arms wide as they stretch out the aches and tightness from his prolonged position.

Calum rubs at his eyes. “Why’d you drag me out here?”

“I think you should go home for a while,” Ashton says, getting straight to the point. When Calum immediately refuses with a shake of his head Ashton sighs and continues, “just a little while. You’re running on empty.”

“No. No, I don’t want to leave her. I can’t leave them,” Calum refuses, head still shaking and eyes darting to the window.

“Go home. Take a shower. Eat something. Take half an hour to sleep. They need you to be rested,” Ashton says and Calum can almost hear the words he didn’t say. They need you to be strong.

It’s the implication and words unsaid that even marginally make Calum consider the proposition. He runs a hand through his hair as tangles of thoughts snarl through his mind. He lets out an accidentally long held breath and turns the shake of his head into a nod as his shoulders relax. He decides he will, but only after he’s sure you’re okay and can be in with her. He tells Ashton as much.

“Good, I’m on shift right now so I can be in there with them when you’re gone if you guys want,” Ashton informs. Mali had finally gone home to get some rest for herself and Ashton slid seamlessly into her role at your sides to fill in the gaps when you have to be separated.

“I’m sure we’d all love that,” Calum assures, utterly grateful for his family’s presence.

Ashton does as promised. Calum watches as the two of you enter the NICU, sticks by the window until he sees Ashton take her hand for the first time and glow with such love and adoration it makes Calum certain she’s okay in his hands. And yours, though he’s never had a doubt about that. He heads home after waving and blowing a kiss—and laughing when Ashton pretends to snag it from you and keep it for himself. He calls for a car, knowing he’s well past exhausted and being behind the wheel would be dangerous. The car stops at the curb of your home and Calum stops short when he steps out. Two cars sit in the driveway where your cars are usually parked.

He enters the house and is met with disgruntled noises coming from down the hall. He makes way to the back room and finds Luke and Michael in a mess of boxes and half put together nursery furniture. He laughs as he stands in the doorway and it catches his friends attention, they look up at him, wide eyed and startled.

Michael is the first to stand as he abandons a screwdriver on the floor among the mess of cardboard, bubble wrap, and probably unread instructions. “How is she? How are you? What are you doing here?”

“She’s getting better everyday,” Calum answers and doesn’t even question the knowledge they have of her and the troubles she’s been facing. He knows Ashton must have filled them in. “Ashton forced me home to get some rest. But the better question is what are you two doing here?”

Luke blows out an irritated breath. “Trying to build her nursery. We figured Mali and Ash wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon so we might as well be helpful in the meantime.”

“Do they know when she can come home?” Michael asks and tucks his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping the mess of a nursery. He clears his throat.

“Not yet. Hopefully soon,” Calum answers with an arched eyebrow, also taking in the room.

Luke stands. “Don’t worry. We set up a bassinet by your bed. We read it’s good for newborns to sleep near their parents. Just in case,” Luke informs. “She’ll have somewhere to come home to and rest. Now it’s your turn,” he finishes and waves a hand as if to dismiss Calum from their presence.

“Alright, I’ll take the hint. Just… try not to break anything,” Calum says and excuses himself to head across the hall to his own room. He spots the bassinet immediately and gravitates towards it without thinking. He has the stuffed koala Ashton got for her in his hoodie pocket. He pulls it out and places it inside, optimistic that she’ll be able to come home to it soon.

Calum doesn’t linger at home too long. He showers, eats and struggles to sleep for a while. Luke and Michael make minimal progress in their efforts to put together the nursery. Before heading out again Calum stops by to thank them.

“We couldn’t do this without you guys,” Calum expresses his thanks and means every word of it.

“That’s what we’re here for. It’s what families do,” Luke reassures.

“You can thank us by showing us some pictures of her,” Michael states and tilts his head. “The only ones we’ve gotten are blurry and through a window from Ash and Mali.”

Calum is more than happy to comply, he’s taken dozens, likely hundreds, since the first one he snapped for you. With two of his best friends by his side he swipes through endless photos. Most of just her, nearly identical, some with you and her, some of him and her and a few taken by a nice nurse of the two of you with her. He’s not looking at Luke and Michael—much too busy staring at the screen, wanting to be back with her and you to look at them—but he can feel the smiles in their voices.

“She’s the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen,” Luke coos.

Michael makes a comment that she’s lucky she favors you over Calum and all three laugh. It’s one of few genuine laughs Calum has had over the past few days and even though it’s at his own expense he doesn’t mind. It feels normal. Michael and Luke aren’t treating him like glass and he feels less likely to shatter because of it.

“I gotta get back to her,” Calum concludes and locks his phone after the last photo is shown.

“Send us new photos when you get there,” Luke insists and lets Calum part with them after a hug for each.

Calum leaves the half finished nursery and hears his friends go back to squabbling.

“Where the hell did the crib go?” Michael’s voice asks as Calum heads for the door.

“I think it’s under the rocker,” Luke says. “Which is under that styrofoam.”

Calum leaves with a grin and gets back to you and her as soon as he can. He has to switch places with Ashton to get back into the NICU. He immediately greets you and her and though he’s sure at this point you both know he tells you he loves you.

“Will you sleep tonight?” Calum asks, knowing it will likely be your last night in the hospital, your visit from the doctor informing you that you could be discharged in the morning.

“No,” you respond.

“Will you at least try?” he questions with pleading eyes. He doesn’t want you to spend a night in a chair after all your body has been through though he knows you will without question. “You need rest,” he reminds. “I did. Now it’s your turn.”

You sigh and Calum can hear how tired you are just from that. You mull it over for a minute and finally nod. “I’ll try. Stay with her?”

“Always,” Calum promises and meets you around the incubator to give you a hug before separating for the night.

It’s another long and restless night for Calum but he finds small joys where he can. He’s happy to see her content and resting easily. He revels in holding her hand and talking to her. The doctor said she would know his voice and as time passes he starts to believe it. He can’t help but think back on all the times had talked to her before he was born. He found comfort in holding your bump and telling you both about his day or humming and singing familiar and beloved tunes. Those days aren’t so far gone and Calum feels a tug in his chest as he realizes how quickly they left. Seven months was too short. But as he gazes down at her he can’t help but be happy to have met her early. He laughs when the thought of her just wanting to meet you as soon as possible enters his mind and knows he’ll have to tell you that, knows it will make you smile. The night goes by without incident and it instills more and more hope into Calum’s heart that she could be going home any day now. He gets a text from you early in the morning when the sun is still making it’s ascent into the sky. 

He finds himself in your hospital room with a view of pink clouds on the horizon and the golden sun greeting you as the doctor says you’re okay enough to be discharged. You both listen to the instructions and advice the doctor gives you and Calum can see the relief and happiness on your face as you settle into the realization that you can be at your daughters side at any and all times. The doctor tells you to rest and take it easy but Calum knows nothing will be restful or easy until she’s home and you both know she’s okay. Your minds and hearts won’t have peace until she can rest in your arms. Calum helps you get ready to leave your own hospital room and head back to the NICU. Over the next couple of days you and Calum find an exhausting rhythm of being at her side. It takes a lot of convincing from Ashton and Mali to let them be there for her while you take just a small amount of time for yourselves. Though it’s hard and goes against all of your instincts to be there with her at every single minute you relent after nearly thirty six hours without real sleep.

The first time you and Calum leave and Ashton and Mali go in together you linger by the window and watch as they take up positions by her sides. Calum feels warm and okay as he watches, he even manages a smile when Ashton and Mali light up when they hold her hands. The first time eases the transition to being able to take small moments away, long enough to eat and stretch your legs. But you never stay away for too long and even when they’re in with her you always find your way to passing the window and checking in on her and them. Nights are a different story. There is nothing that will make either of you leave her side. Days go on with uncertainty and worries but having Ashton and Mali around helps take some of the pressures and anxieties off of your shoulders.

Night settles upon you both with weary exhaustion clinging to your minds, bodies and hearts. Your daughter has been doing well but there’s still no word of when she can go home. It leaves you reaching for fragmented pieces of hope. Curling your fingers around broken shards of optimism and the fabric of each other’s shirts, holding onto all that is dear. Calum tries convincing you to go home for a night but you staunchly refuse, you tell him that you’re okay though your eyes betray how tired and broken you really are. He doesn’t push the matter, just holds you close in the uncomfortable hospital chair and keeps his hand on hers and yours and whispers reassurances all three of you need.

“I don’t even care if we go home soon or not. I just want to hold her,” you whisper and cut through Calum’s attempts at soothing you. “It’s been what? Four days? Five?” you ask and furrow your brows, the concept of time completely lost.

“Six,” Calum answers and is only aware of it from the watch on his wrist. It feels like a lifetime and he realizes that for her it is. He nearly gets choked up but clears his throat and blinks his eyes rapidly trying to keep himself together. He feels you shake your head against his chest as if you can’t believe it.

“She’s so tiny she could probably fit in one hand,” you say and let out a forlorn sigh. “I don’t know if we have clothes small enough for her.”

“We can send Mali out for that, I’m sure she’ll have a field day. We might have to build another closet for her,” Calum says and a small laugh follows, you giggle slightly and it’s more than Calum has let himself expect in a long while.

You lapse into silence, too tired to keep talking but too aware and afraid to fall asleep just yet. Calum’s learned to blur out the noise of the machines and just focus on your steady breathing. It comforts him. Just as he knows the beat of his heart is comforting you with your head pressed to his chest. His lap is numb but he wants you as close as possible.

“Have you thought more about her name?”

“I like what you mentioned,” Calum answers, a tilt of a smile forming for you and the thought of her possible name on his face. “Let’s sleep on it one more night,” he says and hopes that you actually will be able to sleep.

He finds himself nodding off, neck crooked and head falling against the wall behind him. But slumber is quickly taken from him when he feels himself being shaken and hears your breathy whisper.

“Something’s wrong,” you say and he immediately perks up, heart lurching and breath catching at the two words. “Look.”

You point out the window of the NICU where a group of doctors have convened with sullen looks on their faces. There’s a moment where everything is palpable and tense. Calum’s throat tightens and his heart rate spikes with anxiety. He can hear machines beeping but it’s not uncommon. The doctors break their group and start to move.

“Please don’t come in here,” he hears you say but he’s too fixed on watching the doctors disappear from the window and waiting for the door to burst open. Waiting for a doctor to take his daughter away again. “No, no, no.”

Calum’s hand finds hers and it feels just the same as always, warm and soft and perfect. His heart drops. Nothing happens, the door doesn’t open and the beeping stops. He gives it another moment and clutches at his chest with his free hand. He lets out a breath that’s nearly painful. He doesn’t even notice that in the heat of the moment you left him and stood, but now he refocuses, where once there was white edging into his vision as panic picked up he blinks it away and notices your hands are shaking. When you turn back to look at him he sees tears in your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he says and reaches a hand out to bring you back to him. “It’s okay. She’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and settle back against him, and he can feel the tears on your face as you find a home against the crook of his neck. “I was scared.”

“I know, it’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have woken you. I shouldn’t have”—you begin but Calum strokes your hair and stops the words from coming out.

“That’s what I’m here for. I would’ve done the same,” he promises and assures. “She’s okay, we’re okay,” he continues when your small sobs and shakes don’t stop. He knows that you’re panic stricken and need to let the fear out. He holds you while you do, keeps his gaze flickering from you to her and lets the hum of the machines settle back in. He runs his hand up and down your back and hopes the rhythmic motion will help to calm you. He’s nearly certain sleep won’t be had any more for the night, he’s been running on coffee, anxiety, naps and adrenaline for days now. Once you’re calmed, or at least calmer, you pull away from Calum and he watches as you move back to her, settle so you can hold her hand and whisper to her. Her eyes are open and she’s calm. Calum notes and realizes how quiet she is, has been since she was first born. Even her cries are small and timid. He listens to you tell her that you both love her, that you can’t wait to bring her home and promise to always be there for her. Once the panic flees you both settle back in for the night but stay awake with closed eyes and hands on hers.

Morning comes in a slow creeping way. Doctors and nurses enter the NICU, you both watch silently as they make sure your daughter is doing well. It’s a silent and solemn affair to watch someone else be able to hold your baby—even if it’s just for a routine check in to make sure she’s making the progress she needs. Calum sees your arms flinching, watches as they calm when she’s back in the incubator and quiet. He knows it’s killing you to not hold her, cradle her in your arms and keep her safe from the world. It’s killing him too. Though you’re both somber and exhausted from the previous night, Calum finds that the morning is easier, he’s a little more light and certain. He won’t call it a good feeling as he doesn’t want to jinx it, but as he stares down at her and her eyes flutter open to meet his gaze he feels more calm and collected than he has in a week. His phone buzzes and though he doesn’t want to peel his gaze away from her he looks down and finds a message from Ashton.

“Ash says we should go get breakfast, he and Mali will come in for her,” Calum informs you and for the first time you don’t argue in favor of staying. Last night was too much, twenty minutes to recollect yourselves sounds good, and you’ve both come to trust Ashton and Mali to be alone with her.

“Alright, just get something quick from the cafeteria,” you agree and give your daughter one last touch and affirmation of love. You’ve both made it a habit to have your parting words to her be “I love you”.

Breakfast passes in a blur, remnants of blueberry muffins get swept into the trash and soon enough you’re both on your way back up to her. You’re stopped short in the hallway, a doctor calling out to you.

“Hoods?”

You both turn and a nervous feeling flutters through Calum’s chest. He holds his breath for a moment as he takes in the sight of the doctor. He exhales when the doctor seems in no rush and holds no note of concern. Calum supposes it’s a routine check in to tell about her progress and what the next steps are. Calum’s about ready to ask if you might be able to hold her soon, knowing how far she’s come and how much better she’s doing but the words get trapped as the doctor starts talking.

“She’s put on some weight. Her vitals are good. We’ll be transferring her to an open incubator for the day and if all goes well she should be able to go home by tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“What?” you ask, voice small in Calum’s ears, tinny and distant as you both process the news.

The doctor runs through it again, tells you slowly and answers questions that pop up during the explanation. Once it all makes sense, once it sinks in and the reality that her and home is coming sooner than either of you could have hoped for you’re both struck with a whirlwind of emotions. You freeze and for the second time the life of your daughter brings Calum to his knees. He doesn’t realize that he’s sobbing until you find him on the floor and your gentle hands and voice start to soothe him. Your fingers run through his hair and you repeat a new mantra that’s carved in stone and faith.

“She’s okay. We can go home.”

Your voice is a whisper and the NICU door opening and closing and footsteps all scream around you both. Calum clutches you and tries to catch his breath.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Ashton’s voice cuts through and brings you both to your feet. Calum doesn’t let go of you, face buried against your shoulder, but he finds some breath and wrestles with words and comes up empty.

“We get to take her home,” you explain and Calum suddenly hears Mali too, excited gasps and squeals sounding all around. Calum doesn’t let go of you but he feels his sister and best friend join the hug and appreciates their presence more than any choked up words could explain.

“Right now? I’ll go get the car,” Ashton asks and is reeling and ready to go but is stopped short.

“Tonight or in the morning,” you explain and Calum is grateful you’re strong enough to find words when he can’t. He continues holding you when Mali and Ashton break away, spilling their excitement out in bursts followed by tears.

He feels your hands in his hair again and the gentle sway of your body rocking him as he tries to ground himself into the reality that she really is okay. That nights filled with worries and days packed with exhaustion and waiting and waiting and waiting are going to be over. He breathes a little easier and finally detaches himself from you. You wipe his tears and he wipes yours and small laughs formed from disbelief and exhaustion spill past your lips.

“We have to finish her forms,” you remind and Calum doesn’t hesitate to dig into his jacket pocket where the papers for her birth certificate have been on standby. All that’s left to fill in is her name. “Should we go with…?” you ask and trail off as you peek at Mali and Ashton who are waiting with great suspense. Calum nods.

You fumble with the paper and pen and write her name out against the wall. You stay silent as you turn back to the group. You can sense Mali and Ashton are trying to be patient but the anticipation grows and keeps them on edge. All you do is silently hand them the paper so they can read for themselves.

“Mila Ashe Hood,” Mali reads in a breathy whisper coated with surprise. “She’s named after us?”

“After her godparents,” Calum says, finally finding some words but getting the wind knocked out of him once more as another group hug ensues. “Thank you guys, for everything, we couldn’t have made it without you.”

“That’s what family is for,” Ashton says without hesitation. “Now get in there and celebrate with her.”

***

“Do you want to hold her first?” you ask and look up at Calum with wide eyes. He meets your gaze, remembers your outstretched arm falling as they took her away, your pained and whispered words of just wanting to hold her, the way you flinched with fear at the sight of doctors outside the window. He wants to hold her but he wants you to have the moment you’ve been missing for seven days.

“It’s all you, sweetheart, you can go first,” he says and is content to watch with adoration and love as you reach into the open incubator she will be leaving for good momentarily to take her into your arms for the first time.

“Hi love bug,” you whisper as she settles in your hold; eyes open, quiet and content. “She’s so tiny and beautiful and perfect,” you say and softly rub her back. Calum sees tears in your eyes and for one of the first times in a week he knows they’re made of happiness. “Are you ready to go home?”

Mila doesn’t so much as squirm and you both take her contentment as a resounding yes. Calum lets you hold her for a few minutes more, takes several photos to capture the moment forever, knowing neither of you will ever want to forget. Mila’s eyes find Calum and his heart flutters.

“That’s daddy,” you tell her in a coo. “Do you want to go see daddy?”

The slow motion of Calum’s world stops as his entire universe ends up cradled in his arms. Mila weighs barely five pounds and Calum surmises your guess of her fitting in one hand would be right. But he holds her with all of the soft strength and love he has and wonders if he’ll ever be ready to let go.

“Ashton’s bringing the car around,” you inform. “Her car seat…”

“Luke dropped by and installed it,” Calum responds and laughs when you give him an uncertain look. “I’ll make sure it’s secure.” He would never let anything bad happen to his baby girl.

The transition from the hospital to the car goes fast in comparison to the agonizing wait of seven days. You both sit in the back with her, holding her hands, talking to her and enjoying the feeling of freedom from the incubator and anxiety. Mila is back in your arms and seeing her home for the first time in what seems like no time at all. The car ride flew by. Calum heads down the hall and takes a peek at the nursery.

“Sweetheart, come look,” he calls down the hall and pushes the door fully open when you and Mila reach him.

The sight of the finished nursery is breathtaking. You and Calum show Mila around her room; from the white crib and the pictures of woodland creatures above, to the rocker in the corner and the endless clothes that line her drawers.

“This is your room,” you coo, and shift your weight from one foot to the other, already noting that she likes a small rhythm when she’s held. “You’ll sleep right here when you’re bigger. For now you sleep right by mommy and daddy.”

You go across the hall to your room where her bassinet is set up and timidly ask Calum if it can switch sides of the bed so she can be near you. You explain it’s so you can feed her easier in the night but Calum doesn’t need an explanation, he’d do anything for you and her. He makes the switch and you gently lay her inside, kiss her forehead and clutch Calum as he stands by your side.

“I want to have more kids, I want her to have a sibling like you and Mali but I can’t go through that again,” you whisper and Calum can hear the heartache in your tone.

He pulls you close. “She will. We wanted to adopt, remember?”

You light up at that and smile with such sincerity it takes the ache right from your hearts. “Yeah. We’ll adopt,” you say and snuggle against Calum’s chest as a smirk grows on your face. “So, do you want to start that process tomorrow or?”

Calum bellows out a laugh and runs his fingers through your hair.

“Let’s take a breather, yeah? Enjoy being home with her for just a bit.”

“Okay,” you concede and Calum lets you drag him to bed where you can both rest. With his arms around you and your eyes on Mila who has fallen fast asleep you let out a content sigh and Calum smiles.

“I love you,” Calum says once and then again, one for you and one for Mila and you repeat the same back to them.

“I’m so happy to be home with my family,” you say around a sigh.

Seven months of pregnancy and seven days in the hospital have worn you both thin but in that moment there’s no other place you’d rather be. Beside your baby and in each other’s arms. The wait and anxiety are worth it once you find that all you have now is happiness and love. Calum and Mila.

<< >>

I can’t believe we’ve finally made it to this point in the dates with cal universe. I’m so appreciative of the support whether you’ve been around since the very first blurb, joined somewhere in the middle or are just finding this world. Thank you all so much. There is much to come, I hope you stick around for the journey.

Premature birth can come with many complications. What was depicted in this fic is one scenario of struggles parents and preemies can face. If you feel so inclined there are amazing charities to check out to help support families and babies in their time of need. Overall, stay kind and spread love and support.

If you’d like to join my tag list just let me know!

“Have you slept at all?” you ask in a thick and tried whisper.

“Maybe for a few minutes,” Calum responds but can’t be sure of it. The night is getting hazy as time passes.

“I can’t sleep either,” you admit.

It’s the first night back at home, the first night in your own bed and not an uncomfortable plastic chair and yet rest doesn’t come any easier than all of the nights in the hospital. Calum nods at your words, understanding without explanation why sleep evades you. It’s the same for him.

“I’m just so worried,” you continue and Calum knows you need to talk about it, to get some weight off of your chest. “What if something happens? What if we’re asleep and she’s not okay?”

Calum doesn’t have answers to those questions and they only present thoughts he’d much rather never have to consider. He feels himself getting choked up but he shakes his head and shakes away the fear as best as he can. He trails his fingers along your jaw, soft and reassuring. A thousand thoughts spin through his mind and rocks the foundation of the world he shares with you and Mila. He comes to an answer though he knows it’s not a solution that is feasible long term.

“What time is it?” he asks.

“Last I looked it was almost four,” you answer and bite your lip, Calum catching the motion of worry from moonlight.

“You get some sleep. I’ll stay up with her,” he offers and not only sees but feels the disapproving shake of your head. “Sweetheart, one of us has to sleep. Your body’s been through so much. Mila needs you to be rested,” he adds on and knows the tactic is a little low but if you won’t sleep for yourself or for him the only other person you would do anything for is her. “Sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

You give him a pout but he sees that you’re relenting from the tired look in your eyes and the way they can’t stay open any longer. You nod, beg for a kiss with a small noise and puckered lips and finally settle in to attempt to sleep when he gives you a peck. Calum stays by your side while you war with slumber, keeps a hand trailing up and down your back in a soothing rhythm and has his gaze pinned on the bassinet at the bedside. Mila has only stirred a few times during the night, to be fed and changed and soothed. Otherwise she’s slept and been sound. Once Calum is sure that you’ve finally drifted and the clock reads five he slips out of bed and rounds the corner to get to Mila.

Just the sight of her makes him smile, brings tears to his eyes and has him at peace with the restless nights. He would give up anything for her. Sleep. Time. The rest of the world. He wants more than anything to hold her but he doesn’t want to wake her.

He settles for something familiar, a soft fingertip trailing over her small hand. For seven days it was the only form of contact he had with her. She doesn’t flinch or react in any way, she stays still and calm. After a moment eyes that mirror his own open but she doesn’t cry. She’s secure with his touch and it warms Calum to know his presence keeps her calm. He looks over at you, finally burrowed under the covers and asleep, then looks back at her and reaches into the bassinet slowly and carefully and quietly. She fits so perfectly in his arms, her small body tucked into his hold with ease.

“We’re gonna let mommy sleep,” he whispers and presses a kiss to the top of her head as he strides out the door and for the nursery across the hall. “Would you like a good morning story, lovebug?” Calum asks as he settles into the rocker near the crib. He borrows your term of endearment for her, having heard you call her lovebug in the hospital.

Mila stays quiet and Calum takes that as a yes. As the sun comes up he reads to her about a bunny and once the pages come to an end he proceeds to talk to her instead.

“Your mommy and I used to read each other to sleep,” he says with a fond and far off smile as he recalls the gentle nights of whispered words. It was a tradition created when sleepless nights after breaking up and getting back together ensued. He sits and rocks Mila, tells her stories about you and revels in the warmth of her and the sun coming in through the window.

Just as the story of meeting you enters his mind and sits on his tongue your voice breaks the thought away.

“Good morning.”

Calum’s eyes dart up and find you standing in the hallway, pajamas a rumpled mess and hair in disarray but a more restful look in your eyes. He smiles, unable to stop himself, the mere sight of you enough to make him happy.

“How is she?” you ask when Calum stays quiet.

“Perfect,” he answers without hesitation, wanting to put any fears or questions at bay for you. “You could go back to sleep if you want. We’re good right here.”

You shake your head. “I’m awake now, I should probably feed her.”

Calum agrees with a head nod and laughs when you enter the room with outstretched arms and wiggling fingers in your anticipation to hold her. Calum understands the feeling of wanting her in your arms. Seven days without her makes every moment that much more important. He gives Mila one last kiss on the cheek before standing and gently handing her to you. He watches with caution and admiration as you settle into his place in the rocker with her in your arms. Mila makes the transition from him to you with such ease it’s almost startling how easy she is after so much turmoil.

“Do my sweethearts need anything?” Calum asks and plants one knee on the ground to be level with you and Mila and darts his gaze from you to her.

“Breakfast?” you ask with a little smirk and raised eyebrows. “If it’s not too much?”

“Nothing ever is, I’m on it,” Calum promises and rises from his one knee position.

He doesn’t forget to give you a parting kiss before heading for the kitchen. The house is quiet and calm and it’s such a striking contrast to the constant activity and anxiety of the hospital that it nearly winds Calum. He doesn’t even have time to get a pan out before a soft knock on the front door has him running off.

“I brought breakfast,” Luke says as a greeting when the door swings open. “Thought you guys could use a break, make things a little easier for you.”

“Thanks,” Calum says and means it, nothing but appreciation coursing through him at the thoughtful gesture. Calum takes the bag of takeout from his best friend and a sudden realization hits him. “How’s Duke? Do you want us to come get him?”

Luke waves off Calum’s question. “He’s fine. He can stay a while longer if you guys want time to get Mila settled.”

“That might be good,” Calum says and contemplates. He’s not sure how introducing Duke to Mila will go over but from his protective nature of you during pregnancy Calum has a feeling Duke will be nothing but a guard dog to Mila. When Luke lingers, eyes darting into the house Calum smirks. “Anything else?”

“Can I see her?” Luke finally asks and Calum huffs out a laugh as he expected that question as soon as their eyes met. Calum steps aside so the entrance is wide open for Luke.

“Come on in. She’s being fed right now,” he explains and sets the bag of food on the counter. “Want any?” he asks as he starts to unpack the near buffet Luke brought for only two.

Luke waves off the offer as Calum sets to plating the food and waiting for you to come out with Mila. When you do, with slow footsteps and an easy smile at the sight of Luke he lights up at the baby in your arms. Calum watches as his eyes soften and his lower lip juts out in awe. Mila is small in your arms, face buried against you with her eyes closed, tiny hand curled into a fist. Luke immediately stands from his seat and suppresses a gasp, or that’s what Calum believes the chortled noise is.

“Is that her?” Luke asks in a breathy and unbelieving whisper.

“No, it’s some other baby,” you retort with a laugh. Calum chuckles and grins when Luke falters for just a moment and then joins the laughter.

“She’s so tiny,” Luke comments as he stands from his position on the barstool. “Can I hold her?”

There’s a tense moment of pause where Calum watches your body language. You turn at an angle so Mila is slightly away from Luke. Your eyes skirt to Calum and show fears and anxieties as clear as day. You bite your lip and then frown.

“Do you have even a slight sniffle or sore throat?” you question, worries born of getting Mila sick and another hospital stay lingering deep inside.

Luke quickly shakes his head as he picks up on the meaning of the question. “I’m the pinnacle of health. I promise.”

Calum gazes at you as you begin to let your guard down and slowly nod. “Okay, but sit on the couch,” you suggest and Calum smirks at the momma bear protective instincts already coursing through you.

Luke agrees to that plan and Calum walks over to the living room with you and Luke. He settles on the couch and reaches out for Mila. You hesitate for a moment, needing to give her one last little squeeze and kiss before giving her up and it makes Calum smile as he’s already prone to doing the same thing. Mila stirs when handed to Luke, tiny cries falling from her as she makes the adjustment into a stranger’s arms. Calum flocks to Luke’s side, the one you’re not already on, and gently takes her hand.

“Hey lovebug, it’s okay, this is your uncle Luke, he just wants to hold you, it’s okay,” Calum whispers in as soothing of a voice as he can amongst her small cries. His heart hurts with every little noise that escapes her, his hand is soft on hers and his words are even softer. “It’s okay, we like uncle Luke, he’s big and goofy and loves you.”

You follow suit and whisper soothing words to Mila who’s cries begin to taper off. It takes another moment for her to become comfortable and trusting in Luke’s hold. Calum isn’t sure if he can attribute it to Mila trusting Luke or Mila trusting your presence and comfort. Either way he’s overjoyed that she settles in.

“We’re good now right?” Luke asks as he looks down at Mila, finally quiet and content. “You guys go eat, I’ve got her.”

You both hesitate as if waiting for Mila to decide she’s no longer okay but she stays calm and soothed as Luke rubs her back and coos to her. Calum releases a breath and heads for the kitchen with you but keeps his eyes trained on Luke and Mila. You eat breakfast in silence, merely observing and listening as Luke acquaints himself with your daughter. Calum can’t hold back his grins and snorts at Luke’s antics.

“Hi, how are you?” Luke asks in a baby voice as he shifts Mila so he can cradle her in his arms instead of against his chest. Calum gazes at the two with just as much fondness in his eyes as Luke has in his for Mila. “You know, I built your nursery and put your car seat in the car and even helped your auntie Mali pick out those cute little pajamas you’re wearing. And we got your things you’ll grow into; pretty dresses and cute little bunny slippers,” Luke continues, his words like business but his voice is higher pitched and more gentle than usual.

“What are you doing?” Calum asks around a bite of muffin.

Luke looks over at Calum from his position on the couch and Calum arches an eyebrow.

“Just pitching to her why I should be the favorite uncle,” he explains and doesn’t hesitate to turn back to Mila to continue talking to her as if she understands.

The interaction and explanation make both you and Calum laugh. You’re both hasty in eating the breakfast Luke brought for you, wanting nothing more than to get back to your daughter though with the way Luke holds her and speaks to her you’re not sure he’ll give her up any more willingly than either of you would. You end up back in the living room after eating and sit on either side of Luke and Mila, letting him have a little more time with her before swooping in to take her back.

“I can’t get over how small she is,” Luke says when you both join him. He has a light hold on her hand and smiles when her eyes meet his. “My pinky finger is bigger than her hand. Look at her. She’s tiny.”

Luke continues to fawn over Mila while you and Calum watch from your perches on the couch and while both of you would rather have her in your arms you don’t rob Luke of time with her. Only another knock on the door rouses both of you from watching them.

“I’ll get it, you make sure Luke doesn’t run away with her,” you offer and Calum laughs but sweeps a skeptical eye to Luke. There’s only a moment before Michael walks into the living room escorted by you and awe at your baby in Luke’s arms.

Michael voices his awe and Calum grins at the softness of his voice and eyes and picks up on the flinch of his arms as he also desperately wants to hold Mila. Luke doesn’t seem to get the memo, or completely ignores it in any case, and continues to hold her.

“Alright, my turn,” Michael finally announces minutes after taking a seat and trying to be patient, not one to hold onto subtleties for too long.

Luke shakes his head. “Get your own baby.”

“You get your own baby,” Michael says around a laugh at the staunch look of not giving up on Luke’s face.

“Maybe someday I will,” Luke mumbles and sighs, gives Mila one last little coo and finally relents.

The transition from Luke to Michael comes with a small fuss but you and Calum stay by her side until she’s settled. Calum watches his lifelong friend hold his daughter and feels overwhelming warmth and happiness radiate through him. Calum concludes Michael must be feeling the same as he gazes down at Mila with watery eyes and a gentle smile.

“I love her so much,” Michael says and a crack in his voice alludes to the emotion his words promise. “But I am disappointed I was the last one to hold her,” he adds on with a pointed and somewhat joking look to you and Calum.

Calum throws his hands up in the air in surrender and defense. “Shoulda brought us breakfast like Luke,” he jokes and shrugs, to which Michael narrows his eyes but laughs along. “Besides, my parents haven’t even met her yet. They’re catching a flight out tomorrow.”

Michael concedes his argument and jokes and settles into gently rocking Mila, holding her hand and getting himself wrapped her tiniest finger. 

“You guys gonna get any rest until then?” Luke questions in the vein of mentioning how tired you and Calum look but it’s only asked in concern.

“Maybe,” you answer and Calum catches the slight frown on your face.

“It’ll be easier when they’re here,” Calum says and rubs your back soothingly. “It’ll be nice to have them around during the nights.”

“Well, if you need any help you know we’re here,” Michael offers.

“I’ll take her anytime. Can’t promise I’ll give her back though,” Luke pipes in and smirks. “I am her favorite uncle after all.”

“Says who?” Michael asks and gives Mila a little tickle as if to earn affection and the coveted spot of favorite uncle.

“She did. We had a little talk before you got here,” Luke says casually.

You and Calum both laugh at the little argument that ensues and in the distraction swoop in and take Mila from Michael. You hold her and Calum holds you. Ashton and Mali let themselves in through the front door and as they join the group you both know your family will always be there for you and for your daughter.

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