Page 78 of Wild Heart

The monitors beeped quietly behind them. The scent of antiseptic and newborn skin hung in the air like a lullaby. Mason stood near the bed, one hand resting on the bedrail, the other gently brushing the infant’s cheek with the back of his finger. He had barely blinked in the last hour, afraid to miss a second. Her skin was so soft it felt like a breath. Her eyelashes were translucent. Her breathing was slow and even, and each rise and fall of her chest hit him like a wave.

Davey sat nearby on a chair pulled close to the bed, elbows resting on his knees, watching the baby with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“She’s so small,” he whispered.

Mason nodded, his throat thick. “They’re always smaller than you expect.”

Davey shook his head, still stunned. “How does something that small have so much noise inside it?”

Mason smiled, just a little. “That’s a mystery.”

They sat there for a while, letting the stillness hold them. Outside the window, the clouds had begun to peel back, and a thin shaft of early light fell across the hospital floor.

“She was amazing,” Davey said, glancing at Natalie, who had begun to drift into the quiet haze of sleep. “Natalie. She didn’t scream or freak out. She just... did it.”

Mason’s heart squeezed. “Yeah. She did.”

He looked at her then, really looked. The way her fingers curled protectively around their daughter. The way her lips parted as she exhaled slowly in sleep. There was no armor left in her. No defense. Just a woman cracked wide open by love and strength and exhaustion.

“I’ve never loved her more than I do right now,” Mason whispered.

Davey didn’t say anything, but the look on his face said it all. For a few moments, everything was suspended. In this tiny, quiet room at the edge of the storm, the world had paused, just long enough for them to exist in peace. To marvel. To believe in everything good.

Then the knock came. Sharp. Urgent. Too loud for the quiet. Mason turned. A nurse stood in the doorway, a cellphone in her hand, her face drawn tight.

“There’s a call for you,” she said quietly. “It’s from the sheriff’s office.”

The air left the room. Mason took the phone, his hand already shaking.

“Hello?”

“Mason, it’s Deputy Kellerman,” came the voice, distortedslightly by static. “We’ve just been notified there’s been a landslide near Elk Run Trail. The western ridge gave out sometime in the last few hours.”

Mason didn’t breathe.

“The trail’s buried. The team that found it says a large portion of the slope came down. Trees, boulders. We don’t have full details yet, but… we found signs that two people were up there. A driver reported seeing them, Olivia and one of your volunteers.”

Mason’s knees buckled. He leaned heavily against the windowsill.

“No confirmation yet,” the deputy continued. “But it’s bad. Emergency rescue is en route. We’ll keep you posted.” The line clicked off.

Davey stood. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Mason turned slowly. His face had drained of color.

“There’s been a landslide,” he said. “Up by Elk Run.”

Davey’s eyes widened. “That’s where…”

“They think Olivia was up there. With a volunteer, probably Asha as she was on call.”

The room filled with silence, deep and immediate, like the hush before snowfall.

Natalie stirred, her lashes fluttering. “Mason?”

He went to her side, sat carefully on the edge of the bed. “Shh,” he whispered, brushing a hand over her hair. “Everything’s okay. Just rest.”

She frowned faintly, half-asleep. “Is it the baby?”

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