Page 50 of Mating Mia
"Ash," I say, testing the name on my tongue as I look down at our son's face. "Ethan. Theo. Lucas. Oliver."
The baby detaches from my breast at the sound of my voice, blinking up at me with unfocused dark blue eyes that will likely change color in the coming months. Something about his serious expression, the intensity of his gaze even as a newborn, strikes a chord within me.
"Ash," I repeat more confidently. "I think he's an Ash."
Kane studies our son thoughtfully, head tilted to one side.
"Ash," he echoes. "Strong. Simple. Can't be shortened into some ridiculous nickname."
"And it honors the alpha pack tradition of shorter names," I add, thinking of Kane, Finn, and Jace—all single syllables, all powerful in their simplicity.
"Ash it is, then," Kane agrees, his finger tracing our son’s cheek with breathtaking gentleness. "Ash."
The baby has fallen back to sleep against my breast, milk dribbling from the corner of his tiny mouth. I wipe it away with my thumb, marveling at the perfection of his miniature features.
“I feel bad leaving my mom there,” I whisper, the wonder of yesterday's events washing over me anew. "What are the odds? Of all the places in the world, I give birth right where my mother has been hiding all these years."
"Some things can't be explained," Kane says, his hand warm on my thigh through the thin hospital blanket. "Some things are just meant to be."
I nod, wanting desperately to believe him. My eyes scan the room again, noticing a conspicuous absence. "Where's Finn? Did he go to get food or something?"
Kane shrugs, but there's something in his expression that makes me suspicious. "He might have gotten distracted with something. It's been about twenty-four hours since he left."
"A day?" I sit up straighter, concern spiking through me. "That's not like Finn. He wouldn't just disappear for a full day without telling us where he was going. Especially not with the baby just born."
"Don't worry," Kane soothes, his thumb tracing circles on my thigh. "Finn can take care of himself better than any of us. Whatever he's doing, he has a good reason."
Before I can press further, the door to my hospital room swings open, and Finn himself steps through with an excited glow in his eyes.
"I have a surprise for you," he announces without preamble, holding the door open. And then my father walks in.
Liam stands in the doorway, looking so much healthier than when I last saw him.
The gaunt hollows of his cheeks have filled out; his skin now has a healthy glow instead of the sickly pallor it had before, and he stands taller and stronger, as if an enormous weight has been lifted from his shoulders.
"Dad?" I whisper, my heart lifting.
"Mia," he says, his voice breaking on my name. “I’m sorry I left.”
Tears flood my eyes instantly, spilling down my cheeks as I cradle Ash protectively against me. Liam crosses the room in three long strides, stopping at my bedside.
"Can I...?" he asks, gesturing to the empty space beside me on the bed.
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. He sits carefully, mindful of my post-birth soreness, and then gently, so gently, wraps his arms around both me and Ash. The hug is tentative at first, as if he's afraid I might break or push him away. But when I lean into his embrace, he tightens his hold, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head.
"I missed you," he murmurs against my hair, his voice thick with emotion. "Every day, every hour. I thought about you constantly."
“Oh,” I say as tears roll down my face. Honestly, I thought he didn’t care as much as I did, so this was surprising. “I didn't know if you were okay, if you'd been hurt..."
He holds me for what feels like five minutes straight, neither of us speaking, just absorbing the reality of being together again. When he finally pulls back, his own eyes are red-rimmed and damp.
"So," he says, his gaze dropping to the bundle in my arms. "This is my grandson?"
I nod, shifting Ash slightly so Liam can see his face. "This is Ash. He's just a day old."
My father's breath catches audibly as he takes in the sight of his grandson.
"May I hold him?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
