Page 216 of Left on Base

Fork Guy raises his hand, grinning. “I’m basically family. I’ve been through everything with them.”

Jaxon shakes his head, chuckling, but the nurse is already herding Fork Guy out the door. “You can wait in the lobby, sir. There’s a vending machine.”

Fork Guy winks at me. “If you need me, I’ll be outside, manifesting a safe delivery and a left-handed slugger. Go, team!”

The door clicks shut behind him. Jaxon sits beside me and squeezes my hand again. “It’s for the better he’s out there.”

I nod, knowing what he means. Fork Guy snuck into our first ultrasound and nearly got himself arrested when he asked to see the ultrasound tech’s wand.

“You know,” I say, “this kid’s never going to believe our stories.”

Jaxon kisses my forehead, his eyes bright. “We’ll have Fork Guy to prove it.”

I laugh, even as the next contraction hits. Out in the hallway, I hear Fork Guy announcing to everyone he’s about to be an uncle.

Nobody corrects him.

The thingabout childbirth nobody tells you: it’s equal parts terrifying, painful, and completely absurd. I’m somewhere between a contraction and a hallucination when Fork Guy’s voice floats through the wall: “Let’s go, Bush Girl!”

The nurse sighs. “Is he always like this?”

Jaxon wipes sweat from his forehead and grins, exhausted. “Honestly? He’s toned it down for the hospital.”

Another contraction hits.

I squeeze Jaxon’s hand so hard he yelps. “Baby, I need my hand to make a living.”

“Deal with it,” I hiss. “You got me into this.”

The doctor checks my progress. “Almost there, Camdyn. One more good push.”

Fork Guy’s muffled chanting picks up: “Let’s go, Bush Girl, let’s go!”clap clap

Jaxon shakes his head, laughing through the nerves.

I focus, breathing, pushing, and suddenly there’s this wild, raw silence, broken only by the sharp, brand-new cry of our baby. The world tilts. Jaxon’s eyes go wide and wet.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor announces, lifting up a tiny, red, furious human.

Jaxon lets out a sound that’s half sob, half laugh and looks at me. “You did it.”

The nurse wraps him up and lays him in my arms. He’s warm and real, with a shock of dark hair and lungs like a freight train.

“You did it, baby.” Jaxon kisses my temple, tears streaking his face.

I look at him, overwhelmed. I have no words.

Jaxon touches his cheek. “Hi Maverick.” We decided early on if the baby was a boy, he’d be Maverick Judge Ryan. I loved the name Maverick and Jaxon wanted to honor his longtime coach and mentor, Judge Allen.

“I can’t believe we made a baby,” I whisper, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Jaxon laughs and pulls my hand from around his neck, kissing the back of it gently. “I know, right?”

“He looks like my mom,” Jaxon says, laughing at our son who’s staring at us like the doctor handed him to the wrong family.

“He looks confused.”

Jaxon’s shoulders shake. “He’s probably wondering how we’re his parents out of all the people in the world.” He runs his thumb over Maverick’s cheek. “It’s okay, my man. We don’t know what we’re doing but we’ve kept Mookie alive.”

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