He pushed her back toward their baby. “Go sit with them. I’ll go to the cafeteria and come back in a bit.”
Rachel gave him a grateful look, then threw her arms around him. They weren’t touchy-feely together, but Owen let out a rough exhale and sank into the embrace. “You should lie down and get some rest,” he whispered. “It might take all night.”
She gave him abeen-there, done-thatlook.
He coughed. “Sorry. I know you know that.”
“No, it’s strange and surreal to see her go through it for me, too. I will get some rest. That’s good advice.”
He took the long way around the hospital to get coffee, stepping outside for some fresh air and another call to Will before his brother fell asleep.
“How’s Bec?”
Owen grunted. “The same.”
“Oh no, what’s happened?”
“Hayden showed up.”
“That’s good.”
Owen didn’t immediately reply.
“Isn’t it?”
“Of course it is.” Owen rolled his shoulders, trying to stretch out the muscles along his spine. The freakout muscles, they could be called. “I know that in my head.”
“And in your heart?”
“I don’t want my baby to be hurt.” Owen sighed. “Which we’ve talked about a hundred different ways. I know what you’re going to say.”
“Is it easier if I say it, rather than you saying it to yourself?”
“Fuck off.”
“Happy to help.” Will chuckled. “Can we bring you breakfast in the morning?”
Owen stopped in the shadows of the hospital and looked up at the lit up windows. He was turned around, and wasn’t sure exactly which one was his daughter’s, but it didn’t matter. He’d been head-down in survival mode for too long, and he’d had this conversation with his brother more than once. Every single time, Will kept moving him forward.
Tomorrow, God willing, his brothers would show up and bring his grumpy ass a breakfast sandwich or two from Mac’s Diner, and he’d be a grandfather.
Hell, he felt like crying in the worst and best way. “Will?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For breakfast?”
“For everything. For prodding me along the last six months, for kicking my ass constantly when I harp on Adam and Becca. For knowing my bark is worse than my bite.”
Will made a noise that Owen couldn’t decipher. Then he sighed. “You know we love you. To the moon and back, just like you say to Becca. But you can’t lean on the bark is worse than your bite bullshit. Barks are bites.”
Ah, double hell. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Be nice to Hayden. And Becca. And Adam.”
He wanted to protest that he was nice—at least to Becca and Adam. But nice wasn’t enough. He didn’t want his grandkid to think of him as the grumpy grandpa.
