Chapter 19

Songs:

This Woman's Work, Greg Laswell
Boy, Lee Brice
What A Wonderful World, Alison Mosshart & The Forest Rangers

*Link to YouTube playlist in chapter one.

**Medical details are a combination of online research and the personal experiences of others. It's not meant to represent every parent's experience.

October through December 2013

Masen

I've made several trips to the dumpster, emptying out the storage shed behind Gran's trailer. Shit's been piled in there since Gramps was still alive, and she's finally given me the go-ahead to trash it all—as long as she gets a final look at whatever I pull out.

"What about this one?" I ask as I walk over to her, prying open the lid of another cardboard box.

She peers inside, a puff of smoke passing through her lips. "Looks like his old football garbage. Yeah, toss it."

I walk the box over to the Honda, throwing it in the back to drive up to the dumpster once I have a full load. I probably have space for a few more boxes, so I head back.

"How much space are you trying to clear, Mase? You've tossed out a ton of shit already."

"Enough for us to store the extra baby stuff she got," I say over my shoulder.

"Where did it all come from?"

"Mrs. Clearwater. Her niece was getting rid of all of it, so Mrs. C bought it all up and gave it to B as a gift. There's a lot of nice shit in there. But most of it the baby won't use until he's a little older."

"There's a whole room for the kid. I just don't understand why you want to store it out here. The heat will—"

"I'm not putting anything the heat can fuck up out here. Most of it's clothes. And there's stuff in there that he can wear years down the road."

She shakes her head. "Whatever," she says as she turns to walk back to the patio area under the carport.

I move a few more boxes, finally feeling like I'm making some headway. As I pick up the box at the top of the final stack, dusty chrome peeks out. "Gran?" I shout from deep inside the shed. I pull the next box down and see the rest of the frame.

"Yeah?"

"When were you gonna tell me Gramps was hiding a bike out here?"

With an irritated sigh, she gets out of her chair and walks back over, peeking inside the shed. "Oh, that." She looks at me. "It's not a bike, Masen. It's more like a skeleton. That piece of shit's been buried in here for years. I'd forgotten all about it."

"Do you know what year it is?" I ask as I pull the rest of the boxes away from it, revealing the aged frame and dry-rotted tires.

"It's old. That's all I know. You'd have to look at the title. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I still have it."

I turn to face her, my excitement building the more I think about it. "I could totally rebuild it. If it's as old as I think it is, it could be worth some money."

She raises a brow, unimpressed.

"Can I pull it out and work on it?"

"As long as you actually work on it and it doesn't sit in the driveway to rot the rest of the way."

It takes some effort, but I finally manage to roll it out under the carport where I can get a good look at it. My task of emptying the shed has been momentarily forgotten, but I'm too excited to worry about dusty boxes of old shit. Eventually, Bella comes out to find out what the holdup is.

"What's that?" she asks from the doorway, her hand splayed over her huge belly.

"A project I found in the shed." I stand and walk over to her, kissing her on the lips. "How are you feeling? I thought you were taking a nap."

"I was"—she looks up at me, narrowing her eyes—"but my husband promised me the pile of stuff Mrs. Clearwater gave us would be stored away before I woke up. Imagine my surprise when I woke up and nothing was moved."

"Sorry about that." I look over my shoulder at the bike and back to my wife. "I got a little distracted."

She steps around me and walks over to the old heap, ghosting her hand over the torn seat.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but I think I can fix it up."

She looks back at me and smiles. "Sounds like it could be fun."

"She said she wants to see me every two weeks because my blood pressure is still consistently high."

"And staying off your feet isn't enough?" I ask, watching my hand as it rests over where our son squirms inside her.

"No, not really. She said if it doesn't level out, she's going to talk about early induction."

I look up and meet her eyes. "Early? How early?"

She shrugs, looking down and placing her hand over mine. "I don't know. We still have like two months to go. His lungs aren't fully developed yet, so the longer he stays in here, the better."

"Are you still going to the shower Ali and Rose are throwing for you?"

"I think so. It's not like I'll be doing any of the heavy lifting." She smiles up at me. "I can just sit in a chair and have people bring me things."

I kiss her and smile. "As it should be."

"You promise to call me if you're not feeling okay?" I ask as I help her up the steps to Jazz and Ali's house.

"I promise."

"And if Gran tries to start something, call me."

"Would you stop worrying? It'll be fine."

I don't have the chance to reply, because the front door swings open.

"Well, there's our little momma," a smiling Rose says, ushering us inside.

"Hey, Rose." Bella waddles past her, and I'm right behind.

"You'll call when you're ready for me to pick you up, yeah?"

"I will." She rises up on her tiptoes to kiss me goodbye. "Have fun with the guys and stay out of trouble."

I grin against her lips, knowing what I have planned for the afternoon. "I'll try."

Rose wraps an arm around Bella's waist like the protective friend she is. "We'll take good care of her, Mase."

"I know you will."

With a final kiss and a wave to the guests already there, I duck out. Instead of wasting time going home to get my bike, I drive over to the tattoo shop. E and Jazz are already there getting work done when I walk in. My guy, Stefan, is finishing up with another customer.

"Hey, man," my brother says, holding up his fist for a bump.

"Hey."

"Did you get B dropped off at my place for the party?" Jazz asks.

"Yeah. I made her promise she'd park her ass and let them all bring her shit."

Edward looks up from where his guy is working on his arm. "Her blood pressure still high?"

I nod. "It has been. Her doc might induce her once we get to thirty-six weeks if his lungs are mature enough."

"So, maybe two more weeks?" E asks.

"Maybe."

"Damn, that'll be here before you know it. You ready for him to come?"

I bark out a laugh. "No, not really. But when are any of us really ready?"

I head for Stefan's chair when he waves me over. "So, what's it going to be today?" he asks as I sit.

I grin, pointing to the spot over my heart. "My old lady's name. Right here."

Stefan raises a brow and purses his lips. "You know I'm supposed to try and talk you out of it. Not permanently inking a chick's name on your body is the first rule of tattooing, man."

"She's not just any chick. She's my wife, and she's about to give me a son. Can't get more permanent than that."

It takes less than an hour before I've got Bella's name etched into my skin, permanently marking me as hers. I try to ignore my brother's guy asking if he wants his swan tatt freshened up.

When we're done, we're outside talking about what to do until the girls are finished with the shower when my phone rings. I'm expecting to see Bella's name on the screen, but when I see my sister's, a wave of panic surges through me.

If she's calling, something is wrong.

"Ali?"

"Mase, you need to get to the hospital—now."

I fumble with my pocket, trying to reach for my keys as my heart races. "What happened? Is Bella okay?"

The guys call out behind me as I rush to my car and my footsteps falter. I squeeze my eyes closed as I listen.

"She passed out, and we couldn't wake her up. Rose called an ambulance, and the EMT said her blood pressure was crazy high. They'll probably take her in for an emergency C-section."

"Shit, shit, shit," I murmur, imagining all the horrible scenarios that could play out. "Did anyone go with her?" My voice cracks, and tears well in my eyes at the thought of her being alone.

"Carmen is with her. Rose and I are right behind the ambulance. Mase, you need to get there as soon as you can."

"I'm on my way." I wrench open the car door, but Edward's frantic calling of my name makes me spin around.

When he finally reaches me, he tries to get in my face, but I push my way around him. "What the fuck is wrong?"

"B was taken to the hospital. Her blood pressure must've spiked. She passed out again, but they couldn't wake her up this time," I rasp, "I'm ... she—"

He grabs my shoulders, shaking me and forcing me to look him in the eyes. And for the first time, I see how worried he is. "She's gonna be fine. They'll take good care of her. Of both of them. But you need to get your shit together. She doesn't need you showing up looking terrified, no matter now fucking scared you are."

I nod and take a deep breath, doing my best to—as my brother so eloquently put it—get my shit together.

By the time we get to the hospital, the ER waiting room is swarming with Outcasts. Bypassing them and all the questions I don't have answers to, I go to the desk and ask about my wife. I'm given a room number and directed to Labor and Delivery.

I bolt for the elevators, leaving everyone but my brother in the waiting room. We stand side by side as we go up, neither of us saying a word. The damn thing goes too slow, and with every painstaking inch it moves, I feel like I'm clawing my way out of my skin to get to her.

"She's gonna be okay, Mase," Edward whispers, grasping my shoulder once again.

I don't speak, instead I simply nod and swallow down the bile creeping up my throat. When the doors finally fucking open, I rush down the hallway, looking for Bella's room. I pass a waiting area where Alice and Rose are huddled together, not bothering to stop to ask questions.

What I see when I walk into her room brings me up short. The doctor and nurses are buzzing around, calling out numbers and yelling for them to call the OR. The swirling chaos makes my heart drop when they start unhooking the equipment and raising the bed rails.

"Oh, Masen, I'm so glad you made it." Gran wraps her arms around me as we both look at Bella. "They can't get her pressure to come down, and the baby's heart rate keeps dropping." She looks up at me. "They're taking her to surgery."

"Oh, god." My words come out in a strangled whisper.

The entire medical team pushes toward us, and we almost can't get out of the way fast enough. Someone thrusts a clipboard in front of my face and attempts to explain to me what's happening, but it all sounds like garbled nonsense. The only words that make any sense are "save them both."

Those three words get my attention, and I turn to look at the nurse, her sympathetic expression hard to see through the tears clouding my vision. "Save them? It's that serious?"

"Your wife's blood pressure is dangerously high, and your son is in distress."

"But he's not due for more than six weeks."

Her no-nonsense tone is both blunt and comforting, since I immediately know she isn't bullshitting me. "We've administered a medication that should strengthen his lungs, so he has a good chance of survival if he's born now. This form tells you the risks involved in waiting, but if he isn't born soon, the risk to both your wife and son become much greater."

She holds out a pen, and with a trembling hand, I take it, signing my name on the line.

The rest of the medical team is waiting with Bella at the far end of the hall in front of the elevator, and I rush to catch up. "Wait!"

The doors open, and they try to push her inside. "Mr. Cullen, we need to—"

"Just give me a fucking second!" I bark at them. Leaning over Bella, I kiss her forehead and close my eyes, inhaling her and murmuring against her clammy skin. "You're gonna be fine, baby. And when you wake up, you'll meet our little guy. I just need you to be strong, okay? I love you so much, baby."

"Mr. Cullen, we need to go."

I nod and step away, watching them disappear behind sliding doors and feeling like my entire world is about to slip through my fingers.

Stumbling toward a line of chairs, I collapse, cradling my head in my hands. A large, warm hand rests on my back, briefly giving me not nearly enough comfort.

"She's in good hands," Edward says, his own voice gruff. I don't have to look at him to know he's as much a wreck as I am.

I nod, staying silent. I'm sure if I were to try to speak right now, I'd fucking fall apart.

"The nurse said the C-section will solve both problems. Bella's pressure will come down, and the baby will have a fighting chance."

"But his lungs," I rasp, turning my head to face my brother. "It's too early, E."

He reaches for my shoulder and pulls me close, allowing me a moment to squeeze my eyes closed and allow the tears to fall. "They're both gonna be fine," he says, sounding like he's trying to reassure himself as much as me. "They have to be."

Eventually, a nurse tells us where to find the surgical waiting room, and when we get there, the girls, along with most of the club, are already waiting for us.

Pop makes his way over, and without a word, wraps his arms around me. It's foreign to feel, however briefly, that he gives a shit. But when he pulls away and there are tears in his eyes, I know he's torn up about my wife and son.

He pats me on the shoulder and walks off, leaving me to find another chair to wait in. Alice and Rose sit on either side of me, each holding my hand or leaning against my shoulder.

The wait is agonizing. Every time the doors swing open, our heads pop up, but no one who walks through them is for us. Nearly an hour passes before Bella's doctor walks through them.

"Mr. Cullen?" he asks, looking around the room.

I clear my throat, but it still feels like I've swallowed gravel. "Yeah."

"Your wife is in recovery. Her pressure is coming down. It's still higher than we'd like, but she's out of immediate danger. We're still going to monitor her for seizure activity, but I'm pretty confident she's past the worst of it."

"Is that what it was? A seizure?"

"Yes. It's what we call a tonic-clonic, or grand mal seizure."

"And it was from her blood pressure getting too high?"

He nods. "It was."

The room seems to breathe a collective sigh of relief, but knowing Bella is stable is only half of it.

"And my son?" Alice and Rose both squeeze my hands, my sister leaning into me, all of us bracing ourselves for the news.

"He's in the NICU. He's early, so he needs a little help breathing. The doctors who are treating him will be out to see you soon to let you know when you can see him."

I fall back into my chair and hide my face in my hands, allowing myself a few moments to process everything while the doc rattles off more details to the rest of the family. The only things that matters to me are Bella's out of immediate danger and my son is alive.

The air that fills my lungs feels like the first breath I've taken since my phone rang over an hour ago.

"Here's a set of scrubs." The nurse places the folded bundle in my arms and smiles up at me. The crinkles at the corners of her eyes and the grey hair at her temples tell me she's probably been doing this a while. "We want to make sure we don't bring in any extra contaminants."

"Thanks," I murmur, still in a daze.

"You're welcome. Now, go get washed up and changed and meet me at those doors," she says, pointing to the secure entrance to the NICU. "Then I'll take you to meet your son."

I nod and go to the washroom, my thoughts a jumbled mess. I want—I need—to see my wife, but they haven't released her to her room yet. I also know she'd have my ass if I didn't go see our boy first.

As fast as I can, I strip down and wash my hands and arms like I was instructed before hurrying to the doors leading to the NICU. I'm buzzed through, and the same, smiling nurse is there to guide me. The room is dim, only the lights of the two incubators I pass, along with all the monitors, illuminating the room. The incubator where my baby is being kept warm is on the opposite side of the room, far enough away from his neighbors that each family can have some privacy.

What I see when I approach makes my throat tighten and my eyes sting. He's hooked up to tubes and wires that monitor his vitals and help him breathe. He looks so tiny, so helpless, and there's not a damn thing I can do to help him. Guilt gnaws at my gut. Thoughts of not doing enough to help keep Bella's stress to a minimum—not being able to give her a home of our own, even my own carelessness leading to my bike wreck—it all eats away at me.

Maybe if I'd tried harder, all this shit wouldn't have contributed to her stress and high blood pressure. Maybe my son wouldn't be struggling for every breath right now.

I never imagined meeting my son this way. I always pictured wiping the sweat from Bella's face while I listened to her scream at me, encouraging her to push, and looking into my baby's eyes as he was cradled in his mother's arms. I didn't picture him lying nearly naked in an incubator.

But even though he's so fragile, so vulnerable, other than his mother, he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"He's so small," I whisper.

"He's bigger than a lot of the babies who come through here," the nurse reassures. She checks his chart and turns to me with a smile. "He's three pounds, fourteen ounces, so he's a pretty good size."

I look up at her then, my eyes wide. "That's a good size?"

"It is. He's a giant compared to some." She leans in close and whispers. "I've been doing this a lot of years, and I can almost always pick out our short-term guests. My guess is he'll be home by Thanksgiving."

Once she explains what all the monitors do and what all the equipment is for, she goes to step away, but I stop her.

"Can I—" I swallow hard. "Can I touch him?"

She smiles. "Of course, you can. If you want, you could even hold him."

I shake my head. "No, my wife should be the first to hold him."

"I understand. But you should be sure to talk to him. He'll recognize your voice."

When she finally walks away, it's just the two of us. Nerves I can't extinguish make it feel like my whole body is trembling from the inside out. When I reach into his isolette, the length of my hand nearly covers him, and the stark reality of just how small he is strikes me. I brush my finger against his tiny hand, and he instinctually grasps it, making me smile.

"You've got quite the grip." I don't know if I'm imagining it, but his head moves, almost like he can hear my voice, and my smile grows as tears cloud my vision. "It's nice to meet you, Samuel. Welcome to the world, little man."

Watching Bella sleep is as peaceful as it is nerve wracking. With every beep of the monitor, I'm comforted in knowing she's okay, but I desperately want her to open her eyes. The nurses come in every hour to check on her, and every time they do, they assure me she's doing well.

Long after the sun sets, my brother convinces me to open the pull-out bed in the room to get some sleep.

"You won't be any use to her if you're a grouchy asshole tomorrow because you slept in a chair, Mase."

"Fine."

With a pile of sheets and blankets from the nurses, I make up the bed and settle in for the night. What they say about not being able to rest in hospitals is right. Every time I feel myself drifting off, another beep or odd sound echoes from the hallway, or a nurse comes in to check on Bella. I finally manage to fall out, but it's a light sleep, and hours later, I'm woken up by groans and grunts.

It takes me a second to figure out they're coming from my wife, but when I do, I'm up like a shot, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I reach for her hand, grasping it lightly so I don't freak her the fuck out. She pulls away at first. "Shh, it's okay, baby. You're okay."

"Mase?"

"Yeah."

"Where—" She turns to me, her eyes panicked, even in the dim light of the room. "What happened?" Her hand falls to her middle, the hard roundness gone, replaced with softness. "The baby! He's—"

"He's okay. They had to take him early."

She opens her mouth, and tears fill her eyes. "No, it's too—"

"He's a little early, but he's okay. He's in the NICU. He needed a little help breathing. But he's strong, baby. He's so beautiful"—I cradle her cheeks in my hands—"just like you."

"You've seen him?" she says, her voice broken.

"I have." I pull my phone from my pocket and quickly scroll through the pictures, finding the dozen or more I took of him just hours ago. "See," I say, showing her, "he's small, but he's doing okay. He was holding onto my finger and everything."

I do my best to smile, to make it sound less awful than it is, but it's not enough. She crumbles before my eyes. As fast as I can, I gather her into my arms, giving her time to cry. Hearing her weep brings tears to my eyes.

I know this isn't how she envisioned bringing Sam into the world. Even if the plan to deliver him early had been an option, we would have planned for it. She likely would have been awake, and I would have been able to be there.

The nurses warned me. They said she'd probably mourn for what she's lost, and even after hearing it for the first time, she'd probably still have moments when she would cry.

No one warned me about how I would feel watching her deal with it.

"He's perfect, B," I say in a rush, covering my own worries to reassure her. "He's got dark hair, just like his mommy, and I think he's gonna look just like you." I gently grasp her chin and tilt her head back, looking down into her eyes. "He just needs a little help right now. But the doctor came to talk to me and said he's doing really well. We should be able to take him home in a few weeks."

"He's really okay?"

"He really is. And as soon as they say you can, you'll see for yourself."

A knock on the door wakes me from my catnap.

"Hello?" Ali's whispered greeting makes me smile. I'm honestly surprised she's waited this long to visit. She peeks around the curtain, a huge bouquet of flowers and a bundle of balloons in hand. "Hope it's okay to come see her."

"Hey, sis." I stand from my chair and kiss her cheek when she walks into the room, E right behind her. "Hey, man," I say, greeting my brother with a hug. "And yeah, it's fine. She's probably tired of only seeing my ugly mug."

Edward grins. "I highly doubt that."

A heavy exhale comes from the bed, and I turn around to see Bella stirring.

I walk to her bedside and brush some hair from her face. I'm met with tired eyes and a half smile. "Hey, sleepyhead. You've got some visitors."

"I do?" She peeks around me, and her smile grows. "Alice."

Alice dumps the vase and balloons on a table and rushes over, wrapping her arms around my wife. "Oh, Bella, you look great!" The force of the hug rocks the two of them side to side.

Bella winces but forces a smile. "And you're full of it."

"Careful"—I nudge Ali's shoulder, pushing them apart—"she just had major surgery."

My sister's mouth drops open. "Oh, I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Bella replies. "Just a little sore."

"Hey, B," Edward says from behind our sister. He's barely inside the room, his hands in his pockets, looking completely out of place, and his worried eyes are fixed on my wife.

"Hey, Edward." Bella looks back at Alice. "I'm so happy to see you guys. Have you been to see Sam?" Her eyes bounce between her guests.

"No," Alice says, side-eyeing me, "Mase said he didn't want anyone to see him until you did."

Bella looks up at me. "Really?"

I lean down and kiss her forehead. "Really. I just thought he should meet his mom before anyone else."

"Can you believe Mase won't even show me a picture?" Ali says, pouting like the brat she is.

Bella smiles as she looks up at me. "Thank you," she whispers.

They end up staying for almost an hour, but when Bella starts yawning, they get the hint. Before they take off, Alice drags me out to the hallway, asking all kinds of questions, but I just want to get back to my wife.

"Ali, I really don't care. If you want to cook meals for us or whatever, that's great. I'm sure Bella would love that. The doc said low salt, but outside of that I have no idea what she's allowed or not allowed to eat."

"Fine," she says, rolling her eyes, "I'll just have to google it or something. You're really not much help, you know that?"

I kiss her cheek. "But you love me anyway."

Her phone buzzes, and I leave her to answer it, going back into the room to pull my brother away from my wife. When I step back inside, I stop short. While Bella sleeps, Edward is standing over her bed, pushing stray hairs behind her ear and whispering words to her that I can't hear. A flash of possessiveness rips through me, but I swallow it down.

This isn't the time or place to have that conversation.

I clear my throat. "Ali's ready to go."

Edward's head pops up, guilt written all over his face. "Thanks," he says, his voice scratchy.

With one final glance at my wife, he walks around her bed and toward the door, passing me like whatever that was didn't just happen.

Everyone is chomping at the bit to meet Sam—Ali and Rose especially—but the only person who matters is in the wheelchair the nurse is pushing down the hall. Bella's exhausted and still in pain, but the fierce determination in her eyes makes me smile. She's nervous, which is to be expected, and even though she's fidgeting, I know she can't wait to see our boy. I've been back several times to check on him, each time bringing back new pictures, but it's not the same.

Bella's been waiting for this.

The doctors wanted to see her pressure drop steadily for twenty-four hours before she was even allowed to get out of bed. Whatever medication they have her on seemed to work, because her numbers fell like a rock, and she hasn't had another seizure.

But the waiting has been rough on all of us.

Satisfactorily washed and prepared, Bella's wheeled into the NICU toward Sam's incubator. At first she's cautious, reaching her hand in to touch him so gently I'm not sure if she's actually touching him or not.

"He's so tiny," she whispers.

I rub her back as she leans in to get a better look. "But he's strong. The nurse said he's doing really good."

She looks up then, her eyes shining. "Can I hold him?"

"Of course, you can, baby." I kiss her forehead. "Let me go get one of the nurses."

Carol, the nurse who's already my favorite, carefully pulls Sam out of the isolette. When she places him in Bella's arms and helps guide her in holding him skin to skin, my wife's face lights up in a way I've never seen before.

"Oh, Mase. He's ..."

"He's perfect, I know. Just a little small."

Bella looks up at Carol. "Does he have any other problems? Masen said the doctor told him we were pretty lucky."

The nurse smiles and leans close. "Little Samuel is a bit jaundiced, but the lights should take care of that," she says, pointing at Sam's isolette. "And if they don't, we'll cross that bridge if we get to it. The rest, well, I'd say someone was looking out for him. He's a lucky little boy."

Bella looks down at the baby cradled in her arms and whispers, "No, I think we're the lucky ones." She kisses the top of his head.

All the worries I had that the two of us might somehow fuck up this parenting thing dissolve before my eyes. With both of us having such a shitty upbringing, I've secretly worried we wouldn't know the first thing about being good parents.

But as she looks down to whisper to our son, smiling at him and holding him close, I see the woman before me morph into something else entirely. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt Bella would do anything to protect the child in her arms.

It's five days after Sam's delivery before Bella is released to go home, but we don't go far. With Bella's attempts to breastfeed, she insists on pretty much camping out at the hospital, her recovery be damned. I try to convince her to go home to rest, because once Sam does eventually come home, she's going to wish she could sleep. So, I spend countless hours trying to be where I'm needed.

Pop gave me a week off, but after that, I'm back at work, dropping Bella at the hospital bright and early in the morning, running over for lunch to see Sam, then right back to pick her up at the end of the day. I'm burning my candle at both ends, but to see the smile on her face as she holds Sam in her arms makes it all worth it.

I guess I'll catch up on my sleep when I'm dead.

After three long weeks, and as predicted by nurse Carol, we're given the green light to take our boy home the Monday before Thanksgiving. Bringing home a preemie is stressful. We're given instructions on how to operate the apnea monitor, along with infant CPR training and numbers to call if something goes wrong, and a whole new list of possible future complications.

I'm fucking terrified of what the next few weeks or months may bring.

Sam's so tiny I'm afraid I'll break him every time I hold him, even though he's gained over a pound since he was born. They watch over us as we strap him into his car seat and wish us well as Bella and Sam are walked to the front door.

Gran, Rose and Mac, Ali and Jazz, and Pop and my brother are all at the house to greet us when we get home. Gran doesn't stick around long, though, disappearing into her bedroom not long after we unload all of Sam's gear. The girls try to push each other out of the way to hold the baby, but Pop insists as Sam's grandpa, he should be first.

Watching my father hold my son does something to me. For a brief moment, as Pop smiles down at Sam, I really, finally feel like part of the family.

"He's a fighter, Mase." He looks up at me, the smile still fixed on his face. "I can already see it. That's the Cullen blood running through his veins." His gaze returns to his grandson. "Isn't that right, Sammy? You're gonna grow up big and strong, and no one will ever know you started out so small."

Eventually, the girls get their turn, one watching over the shoulder of the other when they switch. Bella's beaming smile as the girls coo over him makes me so fucking happy. But all too soon, exhaustion settles in.

"Okay, guys," I say when Bella lays her head on my shoulder, "it's time for B to get some rest. It's been a big day, and we need to get him settled for the evening."

"Yeah, we need to get going," Mac says, prompting Rose to hand Sam to Bella.

Pop, Mac, Jazz, and the girls all say their goodbyes, but Edward lingers.

"Do you want to hold him?" Bella asks. "Rose and Ali kind of hogged him."

He smiles. "Ali did the same thing with Seth."

I toss my arm around Bella's shoulders and squeeze her to me. "Yeah, I remember those days. You couldn't pry Seth away from Ali."

Bella leans forward, placing Sam in my brother's arms.

"Damn, he is small," he says, bouncing him a little, like he's testing his weight.

"He tipped the scales at over five pounds this morning before he was released," Bella says proudly.

Edward smiles down at his nephew. "Pop's right; Sam's a Cullen. There's no doubt in my mind one day you'll never know he started out so small."

When Sam starts to root and get fussy, Edward takes it as his cue to hand him off. "Looks like someone's hungry."

Bella laughs and takes Sam, cooing at him as she tries to settle him down.

"I'm gonna take off," E says, standing. After a moment of hesitation, he leans over and kisses Bella on the cheek. "I'm glad you're both home, B. He's a handsome little guy."

I'm not sure why it bothers me so much—after all, Mac, Jazz, and Pop all did the same thing when they left—but it does.

"Thanks," she says over Sam's fussing.

He looks my way. "You'll call if you need anything?"

I nod once, ready to spend time alone with my family. "I will. And thanks for coming by."

That night, once we're in our room and the rest of the world is on the other side of the door, I finally feel some peace. I'm where I belong, with my wife in my arms and my son sleeping in his bassinet beside our bed.

The typical sleeplessness starts right away with Sam's monitor going off several times that night and countless nights after. I'd probably be able to cope if all we had to deal with were regular fussy spells when he's wet or hungry, but the added stress of having a preemie to care for makes it exponentially harder.

As the days bleed into weeks, I feel more and more like a zombie, but I still get up through the night, sharing the load with Bella. After all, she's still recovering from the trauma of being sliced open.

Finally, we find a routine—finally feel like we've found our footing. But just as it seems the tide has turned, the medical bills start rolling in, and I feel like I'm drowning all over again.

A/N: Sammy had a rough start, didn't he? I'd love to hear what you thought.

I'll probably be keeping the weekly, alternating updates for Clutch and Shift for a while longer. While I'm officially done writing Shift—it will be complete at 22 chapters—I only have a single chapter of Clutch in the bank. But with the writing stage of one story done, I can focus on the other and hopefully get back to posting both of them weekly. Thanks for being so understanding.

The best way to stay up to date with what I'm up to, check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics. We passed 800 members last week! I'd love if you all could join us. I'm also on Twitter at CSunshine1220.

"See" you next week!

Be kind.
Stay safe.
Stay well.

Lots of love
~Sunshine