The Cowboy's Forever Family (15 page)

But it wasn't yet her due date. She had at least a few days left, didn't she?

“You're sure she doesn't need any extra help?” Slade protested. It wasn't that he doubted Delia's word, exactly. She was the doctor. But he couldn't help but be worried about Laney. “What if she starts her contractions? What if she needs pain medicine? Shouldn't she be transferred by ambulance, just in case?”

Laney reached for his hand. “I'll be fine. I'm having a natural birth.”

“What does that mean?” He looked from Laney to Delia and back again, his throat tightening. He was certain he wasn't going to like whatever he was about to hear.

“She's not going to be medicated during the birth,” Carol inserted.

“What?” Slade repeated. “Why would she do that?”

He didn't know what labor felt like, but he knew how Laney had looked when she'd last experienced contractions—and those were
fake
ones. He couldn't imagine why she'd want to subject herself to the real thing. Besides, it wasn't the dark ages. Why endure pain when it wasn't a necessity?

“It's too complicated to get into right now,” Laney informed him. “In case you've forgotten, I need to get to the hospital, probably sooner rather than later.”

Slade pressed his hat back on his head and reached for her other hand. She blushed. “How do I—er—”

He realized she was talking about her water breaking. She didn't want to stand up, probably especially in mixed company. But she was going to have to move if she was going to get transferred to Grant's car. He'd gone to bring the car around and Frank had likewise gone to get his truck, so he was the only man left in the area. He hoped she knew she could depend on him, no matter what. He might be freaking out a little bit on the inside, but on the outside, he was going to be her rock.

“No need to worry about it, princess. Everyone here loves you.”

He knew every eye turned on him but he didn't care. His only concern was the woman he was carefully assisting to her feet. As soon as she was standing, he wrapped one arm around her waist and held her hand to steady her. He didn't look anywhere except her face.

“Take it easy, princess. One step at a time.”

“I can walk,” she responded. “I'm not sick, just embarrassed. You don't have to hover over me.”

He begged to differ but decided against saying so out loud. Instead, he hopped off the tail gate and swept her into his arms, carrying her to Grant and Carol's vehicle. She protested, but Slade would have none of it. He didn't care if her jeans were soaked. The only thing that mattered to him was that Laney was properly cared for.

As he gently deposited her in her seat, she reached for his hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice coarse.

His brow rose and despite his anxiety over the situation, he gave her his best confident grin, hoping it looked reassuring from the outside, because inside he was shaking. “No problem.”

He thought she was talking about him carrying her to the car, but she adamantly shook her head. “Not for this. For everything. For—”

Grant broke in, reminding them that they needed to go. Everyone gathered wished Laney well and expressed their excitement of seeing Baby Beckett soon.

“I'll meet you at the hospital,” Delia assured Laney, then tapped on the top of the car to let Grant know he could take off.

Slade wanted to ask them to wait. He needed to hear what Laney had been about to say. What did she mean, that she was thankful for
everything
?

But the moment had passed and Grant pulled his car from the arena drive. He clenched his hands into nervous fists, Slade watched until the vehicle was out of sight. He felt oddly lost and empty.

He didn't know what she'd meant, but he knew what was in his heart. He, too, was thankful for everything he'd found with her. Now was not the time, but he hoped soon he would be able to show her just how grateful he was.

Right now, all he could do was drive to the hospital—and pray as he'd never done before.

* * *

Laney's contractions started about halfway to the hospital in San Antonio. To her surprise, they weren't nearly as strong as the Braxton Hicks contractions she'd experience a few weeks earlier. Not only were they shorter and less intense, but further apart, so much so that she'd wondered if she really should be going to the hospital so soon.

Carol had gently reminded her that it was an important part of her birth plan, because the hospital had instructed her to come in right away if her water broke or contractions started coming at seven minutes apart since she had so far to drive to get there.

She didn't know how Slade managed to catch up with the Becketts' car, since it would have been impossible for him to have left until at least a few minutes after they had, but twenty minutes into their drive, Laney looked back to find Slade's truck right behind them. She hoped he hadn't broken the speed limit too much in order to catch up with them.

She found a great deal of amusement and distraction watching him.

Poor Slade. He might have felt better had he simply accompanied them in the Becketts' car, but she didn't want him getting stuck in San Antonio with no way to go get a meal for himself or to return home after Baby Beckett was born. Not to mention the fact that he would no doubt have hovered over her and made a bigger deal out of her labor than it really was at this point.

He didn't exactly tailgate, but he kept only a short distance between his truck and the Becketts' car. From her position in the backseat, she could easily see him through the rear window. His hat was, as usual when he was under stress, pulled down low over his brow, so she wasn't able to see his eyes, but she knew him well enough to know he was edgy. He drove with both hands clenching the wheel and his whole upper body hunched over the steering wheel, as tense as a wildcat ready to spring on its prey.

He tailed them into San Antonio, but at some point he lost them, maybe getting caught in the congested traffic. Laney didn't have time to worry about it because they arrived at the hospital and she was whisked up to the triage room on the delivery floor. From there, she was transferred into a large, comfortable birthing room, where Carol and Jo stayed with her, offering good company and distraction to keep her from getting too anxious about the whole process.

It was several hours before the contractions became regular and painful, but once she crested the first hill, her labor accelerated into full speed ahead. Eventually Carol stepped out for a moment, presumably to let Grant and Frank know how things were going—and Slade, of course, who probably needed the update more than anyone.

Carol came back and reported that he had, indeed, found the hospital and had been admitted to the ward with the special code Grant had texted him. Word had it that Grant and Frank, both experienced in the unpredictability of childbirth, had each grabbed a cup of coffee and were playing cards outside the room. Slade, on the other hand, was apparently prowling right outside the door. Carol laughingly said she wasn't certain his hat would make it through the process.

Laney remembered how nervous he'd been the day he'd first taken her to see Delia. He'd been lumbering around then, too. She hoped the waiting room here at the hospital gave him a little bit more room to stretch, because she had the feeling he was in for a long night.

After that everything became fuzzy as the contractions started coming one after another in rapid succession. She pulled inside herself, concentrating on her birth coaches and the breathing she'd been taught to use.

Baby Beckett arrived just after half past two in the morning. During the delivery Laney was in so much pain she couldn't think beyond the last contraction, but the moment she heard the baby's cry, her pain was forgotten.

Carol pressed a hand to her sweaty forehead and brushed her hair back with her palm. “It's a boy, honey. You have a son.”

“Can I— Is he healthy?”

“They're cleaning him up right now, dear. Isn't this exciting? Your baby is here! Ten fingers and ten toes,” Jo assured her.

Laney was incredibly tired, but joy filled her heart so full she thought it would burst when the nurse placed her baby in her arms. She was so choked up she wasn't sure she could speak, but she managed one word.

“Slade.”

“I'll go get him now, honey,” Carol assured her. “I'm sure all the men are anxious to see this little one, but I have no doubt that Slade is the most eager of the three of them.

She stared down at the tiny child in her arms and breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. The baby had a thatch of thick brown hair on top of his head and the clearest, bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

Brody's eyes.

Slade was the first into the room but not the first one to her bedside. He hung back, hat in hand, shifting from one booted foot to the other while the older men came forward and took turns congratulating her on the baby's birth, giving all of the expected ooh's and aah's in all the right places.

“All right, you two,” Jo said, rounding up Frank and Grant. “Why don't we go get something from the cafeteria. I'm starving.”

“Cafeteria's closed,” Frank said with a shake of his head. “It's nearly three in the morning.”

The look Jo gave Frank made Laney chuckle. Jo's eyes widened and she jerked her head toward Slade. “Then we'll find a vending machine.”

“Oh,” Frank said, his voice gruff. “You want to give Slade and Laney some time alone. Why didn't you just say that in the first place, woman?”

Jo sighed and rolled her eyes. “See what I have to put up with? Grant and Carol, would you like anything from the
vending machine
?” She gave the last couple of words enough extra emphasis to get a grunt out of Frank.

“We'll join you,” Carol said, and Grant nodded.

“We'll be back to check on you soon, dear,” Jo said, patting Laney's hand. “Congratulations again on bringing that sweet little one into this world. He's so beautiful. You've done Brody proud.”

Tears sprang to Laney's eyes, but they were tears of joy.

Slade tentatively approached her bedside. His face was lined with concern but his eyes glittered with excitement.

“Hey, princess,” he whispered with all the reverence of someone in the middle of a church service. He rolled the brim of his hat in his fists. “You're okay?”

Laney chuckled. “I'm better than okay. I've never been happier.”

He leaned forward and tilted his head so he could get a better look at the baby.

“It's a boy?” His face was full of such wonder it was almost as if he'd never seen a newborn baby before.

She nodded and adjusted her son so Slade could get a better look at him.

“Slade,” she said with a soft smile, first at her baby and then at the man standing respectfully at her side. “Meet Brody Beckett.”

Chapter Twelve

B
rody Beckett.

Slade was in awe. Laney had delivered a son, and he was as beautiful and perfect as his parents. He couldn't swallow around the lump of emotion in his throat and his heart was beating so fast he was certain Laney must be able to hear it.

“He's beautiful,” Slade whispered, running his palm across the baby's forehead, then lifting his hand to brush the back of his fingers against Laney's soft cheek. Her hair was sticking to her temples and she looked as if she'd run a marathon, but to Slade she had never looked better. “And you, too, princess.”

“Well, I'll take the compliment on Baby Brody's behalf, but if you are going to stand there and tell me I look good I'm going to send you away for fibbing.”

Slade crossed his index finger over his heart. “I mean it. I do.”

As he'd paced out in front of the birthing room for hours on end waiting for the baby's birth, he'd gone back and forth between worrying about Laney and rehearsing what he was going to say to her when he saw her. But the moment he'd seen Laney with Baby Brody tucked safely in her arms, his mind went blank. He'd been mortified when Jo had suggested he needed to be alone with Laney—as if they were a couple.

A man could dream. He could plan. But the moment he'd stepped into the room and had seen the glowing new mother with her baby, a whole new set of emotions had overtaken him, feelings he'd never before experienced.

He wasn't sure his heart could take it, just looking at her soft smile and tender gaze. He'd been thinking of a thousand ways to approach the subject of her future, but now there were no words. He wasn't worthy of this woman or little Brody. They deserved so much more than he could give them.

Laney shifted to one side of the bed and patted the space beside her. “Sit here for a second.”

He'd never felt so awkward in his life as he perched clumsily where she had indicated. “Okay, but only for a moment. You need to spend some time alone with Baby Brody. And I'm sure you need your rest.”

“Well, that much is true. I am exhausted, but I'm glad you're here.”

“You are?”

“You don't have to sound so surprised. You've supported me through everything the last couple of months. Of course I want you here.”

He shook his head. He'd done everything
except
support her. Had she so quickly forgotten how big of a jerk he'd been when she'd first come to Serendipity?

“Would you like to hold little Brody?”

“Me? I—” Slade hedged. He'd never actually held a newborn and had no idea what he was doing. He didn't want to accidentally hurt the little guy.

Laney adjusted his arm and held the baby out to him, showing him how to cradle the baby's neck in his hand.

Slade was quivering inside and he wondered if Laney could see the way he was shaking. He stared down at the infant for a long moment, in complete awe of the little one. The curl of his ears, his button of a nose, the way he sucked noisily on his fist. But most of all, Slade was struck by his bright blue eyes, unfocused but nonetheless intent on Slade's face.

“He has Brody's eyes,” Laney said, as if she'd read his mind.

He nodded and swallowed hard. “And your hair.”

She chuckled. “Yes, I suppose he does.”

“Brody would be proud,” he murmured.

When he glanced up at her he found her big brown eyes were full of tears and her lips were quivering.

“Hey, I'm sorry, princess. I didn't mean to make you cry. Not today, of all days.”

She blinked back her tears but her smile was wide and genuine. “I'm not sad, Slade. These are tears of joy. I know Brody would be proud of his son.”

“Yes, he would,” Slade said in a high, singsong voice he'd never before used in his life but seemed oddly appropriate now. “Yes, he would. Your daddy would be so proud of you, little one. So proud.”

He kissed the baby's cheek, marveling at how soft it was and how sweet little Brody smelled. Brand-new.

“You're probably tickling his cheek with your whiskers,” Laney said with a laugh, brushing her hand over the baby's head and then settling it on Slade's jaw.

“Oh,” he said, drawing back. “Sorry.”

“Would you stop apologizing for every little thing? Your scruff is fine. In fact, I like you that way.”

She liked him that way? He didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Was she saying she found him attractive, or just making a passing comment about his beard? He needed to know but didn't know how to ask. Instead, he spoke to the baby.

“So, little man, your mama and your uncle Slade are going to teach you everything you need to know to grow up on a ranch. And I'm going to teach you how to throw and catch a ball, and ride a horse, and rope a calf, and—”

“Don't you think you ought to let him grow up a little bit before you start throwing balls at him?”

He grinned and winked at her. “I can wait. I'll always be there for him.”

And you.

Why couldn't he say the words? Why was he so tongue-tied all of the sudden? He was the one who usually blurted stuff out without thinking. Now he'd done all the thinking and he couldn't seem to say the words.

He took extra care transferring Baby Brody back into the crook of Laney's arm. She was simply stunning as she gazed down at the swaddled infant. It was no wonder he had no words. Her beauty left him speechless.

He'd rehearsed this moment a million times as he paced the waiting room. He had a ring burning a hole in the pocket of his jeans. He'd made a little detour once he'd hit San Antonio to visit a jewelry store, with every intention in the world of proposing to her. And now his mouth couldn't seem to form the words. What a time to lose his composure.

He cleared his throat and reached deep inside himself for the confidence that seemed to have deserted him, maybe because this was the most important moment of his life, the fork in the road that would change his path. Only instead of him being the one who'd choose the direction he would take, it was all up to Laney.

His princess.

* * *

Laney wasn't sure what was running through Slade's mind and she wasn't certain she wanted to know. He was acting squirrely. For a moment he'd looked as if he was ready to speak, and the next thing she knew he'd risen to his feet and lumbered over to the window, where he stood silently gazing outside.

Uncle Slade, he'd called himself. Baby Brody's honorary uncle. Was that how he thought of himself? Because that wasn't how she saw him at all.

As far as the Becketts were concerned, he was almost family, but to her he was so much more. She'd learned to depend on his strength and the way he chose a course and then stayed on it. He didn't just think about how to solve problems—he did everything in his power to fix them, even if he was a little overbearing at times. It was all from the goodness of his heart, and she needed his presence in her life.

She missed him when he wasn't with her—his amazing blue eyes, the way one corner of his lips kicked up when he was amused by something, even the way he always pulled his cowboy hat low over his brow when he didn't want anyone else to see what he was thinking.

She loved everything about him. She loved
him
.

But he'd just as much as come out with the fact that he considered himself an honorary uncle to her son. And perhaps that was what it had always been about—being a part of little Brody's life, protecting him and watching out for him.

Her heart ached at the thought of seeing Slade around the Becketts as her son grew up, with him but not really
with
him. She couldn't imagine living that way, just as she could no longer imagine her life with Slade not in it.

If there was one thing she'd learned through her hasty marriage, her separation and Brody's accidental death, it was that nothing in life was certain. There were no promises of tomorrow. Every day was a gift from God and not to be taken lightly, but lived to the fullest.

Loved to the fullest.

Slade might not want to hear what she was about to say. He might be surprised—shocked even. She was going to astonish herself if she was able to get the words out of her mouth and her feelings out in the open. She didn't have the faintest idea how to start or what to say, she only knew that she had to expose her heart to him before he walked out of this room believing he was nothing more than Baby Brody's
Uncle Slade
.

He turned from the window just as she began to speak.

“I think you—” she started, but she couldn't seem to raise her voice above a whisper and he didn't hear her.

“There's not much of a view out there,” he said at the same time. He turned to her and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You can't even see any trees or anything. Just the side of another building.”

Her mouth shut. She had no idea how to respond to that.

“I've been thinking,” he continued, and Laney's heart clenched. He resumed his seat next to her but she couldn't read his gaze. He leaned one arm over her legs and smiled down at the baby. “I feel like I need to apologize.”

“Again?”

This isn't where she wanted the conversation to go and she was stymied by it. Could the man just not stop saying he was sorry? Or maybe say it once as a generic statement that would cover all past and future apologies?

“Yes, again.” He shrugged and his gaze met hers.

“What is it this time?”

“I had a lot of time to think while I was waiting for Baby Brody to be born. I have a question to ask you and I want you to be honest me.” His tone was even and his expression unreadable, but she thought she caught a glimpse of something in his eyes.

Her breath caught and held. Was he—could he feel as she felt, was his heart already entwined with hers?

“Was it because of me that your water broke?”

She let out her breath in a rush. Of all the things she expected—or hoped—he would say, that was not even in the ballpark.

“How on earth could you imagine my water breaking had anything to do with you?”

He shrugged, looking miserable. He shifted his gaze to the baby. “It happened right after I rode Night Terror. Your due date isn't for a few days yet. I thought maybe the stress of seeing me on that bull might have put you over the top, er—sent you into labor.”

She sputtered out a laugh. One thing was for certain—if she was blessed with a life with Slade McKenna, it would never be boring.

“I hate to be the one to inform you of this,” she said with a wry smile, “but the world does not revolve around you. My water broke because it was time for Baby Brody to make his grand entrance. It had absolutely nothing to do with you whatsoever. It was God's perfect timing and nothing to do with me watching a stubborn cowboy ride a bull in his best friend's honor.”

“Oh.” He sounded deflated. “I'm glad.”

“Did you
want
to be the cause of the baby's birth?”

He stood abruptly. “No. No! I was terrified that I'd made a terrible mistake and that my foolishness might have put you and the baby in danger.”

“Well, you can put that thought aside and rest easy, although I could very happily never hear another word about bull riding as long as I live.”

“I'll try, princess, but that might be difficult, seeing as there's a rodeo in Serendipity every year and I'm a retired bull rider.” He flashed a wink and a smile, turning all the charm he had on her and making her heart flip over.

She was long past believing she was immune to him.

“It all turned out exactly the way it was supposed to be,” he continued.

Not
exactly
. Not the way she really wanted it to be.

She was about to put her entire future, her son's future and her very heart on the line, but it had to be done. She could no longer stay silent. She had to know—and so did he.

And if he brushed her off, at least he would know how she felt. It might be awkward for a while afterward when
Uncle Slade
came to see the baby, but they'd get past it eventually, or at least he would. She might never recover.

She took a deep breath and plunged in with no idea whether she was going to sink or swim. “About that title of yours...”

He raised a brow. “What title? I didn't win anything. One of the younger fellows beat my score.”

Despite the tension rippling through her, she had to laugh. She was ready to make a declaration of her everlasting love and he was thinking about the rodeo title he hadn't won. As if he didn't already have enough enormous silver belt buckles in his wardrobe.

“I wasn't talking about the rodeo.”

He shook his head. “Then, what?”

“Uncle Slade. I'm not sure that's the right thing for Baby Brody to call you.”

He blanched and turned away from her, striding toward the window, and she realized what she'd meant to say and what had actually come out of her mouth were two different things entirely, and she'd unintentionally hurt the man she loved.

“I'm sorry,” she said, her throat tightening around the words. “This time it's me who needs to apologize.

He tossed a glance over his shoulder. “For what?”

She started to tell him but he interrupted.

“No, you're right. I overstepped when I called myself Baby Brody's uncle. I'm not family. Not really.”

“But I'd like you to be.”

He pivoted on the soles of his boots and swept his hat off his head in one smooth move. He was at her bedside only moments later, and for once he wasn't masking his emotions. She could see it all—hope, trepidation and—

He sat down next to her with one hand on the baby and the other against her cheek. She struggled to contain the tears that burned at the back of her eyes, knowing that crying would ruin everything. Slade always stepped up to deal with any problem, and he would definitely see tears as a problem. He wouldn't see them as the happy tears they were, and she didn't want to take the time to explain it to him. Her heart was too full, ready to explode if they didn't get on with it.