He finally steps forward, his expression shattering. He kneels beside the bed, brushing his thumb under my eye like he’s memorizing the curve of my cheek.
“I failed you,” he says, voice low and broken. “I didn’t protect you. I didn’t see what she was doing. I let you walk into her trap.”
“No,” I say fiercely, gripping his wrist. “Don’t youdaresay that. None of this was your fault. You all did everything you could. And I never gave up… because Iknewyou wouldn’t give up on me.”
His gaze falls to the swell of my stomach, then lifts to meet mine. “You sure the baby’s okay?”
I nod. “Perfectly healthy. Strong. Just like their dads.”
He lets out a long breath. “We’re going to raise that baby with more love than they’ll know what to do with. You, us, Grandpa Dan—all of us. That kid’s going to be surrounded by love every single day of their life. I promise you that.”
“You better,” I whisper with a teasing grin. “Because I’m not doing diapers alone.”
The room erupts with laughter—the real kind. The kind that carries warmth and life. The kind I haven’t heard in so long it almost hurts.
A moment later, my dad returns to my side, placing a warm, steady hand on my shoulder.
“You’re home, baby girl,” he says, voice thick with emotion.
And as I look around at the men I love—the ones who fought for me, who waited, who never let go—I know without a shadow of a doubt…I’m finally home.
A throat clearing draws our attention. It takes a few tries before we actually notice the nurse standing just inside the room, hands folded gently in front of her chart. Her presence is unobtrusive, respectful—but necessary.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she says with a kind smile, stepping closer. “Just checking in. Are you in any pain, sweetheart?”
I shake my head slowly, the movement slight as I sink a little deeper into the warmth and safety surrounding me. “Not really,” I reply softly. “My muscles are a little sore, but I think that’s just from the baby… and maybe being chained to a floor for months,” I add with a touch of dry humor.
Liam’s hand tightens slightly over mine, his palm covering my stomach with gentle reassurance. The others don’t say anything, but their presence grounds me, their protective energy wrapping around me like a weighted blanket.
The nurse nods, her expression sympathetic. “That’s perfectly normal. After everything… your body’s bound to be holding tension in all sorts of places. The doctor will be in soon to check everything over. You’re doing so well.”
I nod, appreciating the softness in her voice. She’s one of the few strangers I’ve seen since escaping that hell, and her gentleness doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Do you need anything before I go?” she asks, glancing around at the guys, then back to me. “Ice chips? Another blanket? Something for the dryness in your throat?”
I hesitate for a beat, but then offer a small smile. “No, thank you. I think I’m okay for now.”
She nods again, giving me one last reassuring glance before slipping back out the door, pulling it gently closed behind her.
And then it’s just us again—me and my family. Their eyes never leave me. Their hands never stop touching me. And for the first time in a long time, I feel safe enough to close my eyes… even if just for a moment.
The door swings open, and a man in a white coat steps in, his smile warm and professional, flashing a row of perfect pearly whites. “Good afternoon, Miss Dawson,” he greets, clipboard in hand. “How are you feeling?”
I shift slightly in the bed, careful not to jostle my bandaged leg too much. “Sore,” I admit, “but good otherwise.”
He nods. “That’s to be expected. And the baby? Still keeping you on your toes?”
A small laugh bubbles out of me, and I glance down at my belly where one of the guys' hands still rests protectively. “Yes,” I answer with a smile. “Still kicking.”
The doctor chuckles along with me, then flips through a few pages on his clipboard. “You’ve been through an incredible ordeal, Avery. But I want to reassure you—you’re remarkably healthy, considering everything. We’ve cleaned and bandaged your leg, started you on a round of antibiotics to keep infection at bay. And here—” he hands over a few glossy printouts, “—are the ultrasound pictures we took earlier.”
I take them with trembling hands, the image already bringing tears to my eyes. My bean perfectly formed. Our baby.
The doctor’s voice softens. “The baby is doing beautifully. Strong heartbeat, healthy growth. Did you want to know the sex?”
The room goes quiet as every set of eyes turns toward me. My heart skips. I wasn’t expecting the question—not now, not like this—but the idea sends a flutter of excitement through me. Still, I’ve waited this long. What’s a little longer?
I shake my head slowly, a smile tugging at my lips. “No. I think... I think I’d like it to be a surprise.”
