Page 159 of Through the Storm

I lower my voice. “Go back to bed. I’ve got him.”

She nods, relief softening her face immediately. It’s subtle, but I see it. I always do.

There’s something about how Katy sees me. In a world where people always counted on me to make them laugh or to score a touchdown, she’s always seen me as more. As someone capable of hanging the moon.

And for her, I would.

“I have training in an hour,” I add quietly. “But I’ll put him back down first.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, already drifting.

I step closer and kiss her forehead. “I’ll text you when I’m done.” My thumb brushes her wrist before I pull away.

Her hand comes up, curls around my wrist, squeezes once. A thank-you. A grounding. Then she lets go and disappears back into bed.

He finishes his bottle, and then I pace the living room with him until his breathing evens out. When I lay him back in his crib he sighs, deeply offended by gravity, but doesn’t wake up.

That’s my guy.

I shower fast and put on my training gear. When I come back into the bedroom, Katy is awake again, sitting up against the pillows with her laptop already open on her knees.

Of course she is.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” I say.

She smiles without looking up. “I just thought of something, so I had to write it down.”

I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “I’ll be back by noon.”

“Okay. Hopefully I’ll have made some progress by then.”

I grin. “I’m proud of you. I can take him if you want to keep writing.”

She finally looks up at me. “That won’t help. You’re very distracting when you’re being a good dad.”

“You didn’t seem to mind being distracted last night.”

Her cheeks flush that pretty pink immediately. “Ben.”

I grin. I love that she still gets flustered. Worth it.

I grab my bag and head for the door, pausing just long enough to look back at her, then at the crib down the hall, and something in me settles. Our home is quiet and full in a way I never knew it could be.

It’s my same life. But upgraded.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

katy

TOGETHER THROUGH EVERY STORM

Ben tookme out to dinner tonight, just the two of us. I even did my hair and wore a dress. Which is saying something because I’ve been living in leggings lately.

The restaurant is warm and softly lit, the kind of place where everything feels a little quieter, a little slower. There’s a fireplace crackling along the far wall, low and steady, the glow flickering across the room.

It feels strange being without the baby. Like we forgot something important and also… like I can breathe a little deeper because of it.

Grandma Patty practically kicked us out of our apartment, promising she had everything under control. I know she does. But my mommy hormones are not 100% convinced.