Chapter Text
Blake: a few days old - mid July
The car ride home from the hospital was the quietest Logan had ever been in his life.
Grace sat in the backseat, her body still sore and slow-moving, eyes locked on the baby car seat beside her. Blake was bundled up in an oversized cotton-soft blanket that made her look even smaller than she already was. Newborn tiny. Fragile. Her blue eyes, like Logan eyes, were barely open. She didn’t make a sound. Just breathed.
He kept glancing at them in the rearview mirror every five seconds, one hand tight on the steering wheel, the other clenched on his thigh like a man trying not to crash a car full of priceless glass.
"She’s okay," Grace whispered, sensing his nerves. "We’re okay."
But even her voice was quieter now. Different. Like she'd left something behind in that delivery room and hadn’t quite gotten it back. They both had.
The trauma lingered in the silence between them.
She didn’t say it out loud, but they both knew: they were lucky to be alive.
He didn’t respond right away. He was trying not to cry again.
When they got to the house, everything was ready. And Logan couldn’t even begin to explain how much that meant.
While they were still in the hospital, while Grace was still weak and pale and Blake was still being monitored every hour, Grace’s parents had quietly stepped in. Her mom had flown in from Paris a few days before the due date, but after the emergency, she’d stayed longer. Her dad had coordinated everything with her. Despite being divorced for years, they’d moved like a team. Logan’s mom had joined in too, sleeves rolled up, hands busy with cooking, cleaning, folding, soothing.
They’d filled the fridge. Cooked and frozen enough meals to last two weeks. Cleaned the house from top to bottom. Washed every single baby onesie. Fluffed pillows. Discreetly placed pads and post-partum care kits in the bathroom.
Logan carried the car seat in his hand like he was holding a piece of his own heart in his arms. Grace followed slowly, sore and exhausted, and stopped in the doorway.
Her voice cracked. “They really did all this for us?”
Logan nodded. “Your dad left a note on the fridge. Said, ‘You’ve already done the hardest part. Now just take care of your girl. We’ve got the rest. I’m so proud of you. I love you’ ”
Below that, in smaller, softer handwriting, Grace’s mother had written, “Welcome home, Gracie. I’ve never been prouder. And I'm ready to be the coolest grandma (even if she's not allowed to call me that!). I love you”
Grace burst into tears.
Later that evening, the house was quiet except for the soft hum of the baby monitor. Grace lay curled on her side in their bed, hair still damp from a shower, one hand resting on her stomach.
Logan slid in behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her gently into his chest. His face buried in the curve of her neck, breath warm against her skin.
They stayed like that for a long time. No words. Just breathing.
The doctors had warned them it would take time to process what had happened.
But Logan didn’t want time. He wanted a reset. A way to erase the moment Grace went limp. The moment Blake came out not breathing. The moment he thought his life had ended in that delivery room.
He tightened his hold on her gently. A tear slipped down his cheek, and she wiped it with her thumb.
Grace fully turned to face him, her eyes soft and tired. She brushed away the rest of his tears with both thumbs, holding his face between her hands.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “We’re both here.”
And for the first time since the delivery, Grace let herself speak what she hadn’t said out loud yet.
“I was so scared,” she whispered. “More than I’ve ever been. Scared to lose my baby. Our baby.”
“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. You gave everything,” he whispered back. “And I’ll never stop thanking you for it. For her. For surviving. You brought our daughter into this world. And now… it’s our turn to protect her. With everything we’ve got.”
Grace nodded against him.
“And I love you. So damn much. I don’t think I said it enough before. But I’m going to say it every day now.”
Grace leaned forward and kissed him, soft and slow. Then rested her forehead against his.
“I love you too, John.”
They stayed there, forehead to forehead, the baby monitor faint in the background, their daughter’s tiny breaths echoing like a second heartbeat in the room.
They were parents now.
Of a real, tiny, breathing miracle.
And somehow, through all the pain and fear and exhaustion, they’d made it home.
A few days later…
They started settling into a rhythm. It was far from perfect, but it was theirs.
The house felt different, not quieter anymore but filled with more meaning in every sound. The soft rustle of a baby swaddle. The beep of a bottle warmer. The whisper of lullabies and tired I-love-yous in the dark.
It took Logan five tries to change Blake’s diaper one night.
He cursed, then apologized to her. Then cursed again when she peed mid-change.
Grace watched from the doorway, amused. “You know you can ask for help, right?”
Logan looked up, hair messy, T-shirt stained with something that smelled suspiciously like milk or baby spit-up. “She’s so small. Like unfairly small. They should give you training for this.”
Grace chuckled. “They did. It was called the hospital. You just pretended to know what you were doing the whole time.”
“I was trying to impress the nurses.”
“You were crying into your sleeve every time they handed her to you.”
“I was tired ,” he grumbled. “And overwhelmed…”
Grace laughed softly and leaned over the changing table to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re doing great.”
“I’m taking too long to change her. I’m not doing great,” Logan muttered, frustration starting to bubble.
“And that’s okay, I swear. You’re still doing great,” she said gently, rubbing his shoulders. “It’s only been a few days. It’s normal that we don’t have it all down yet, no one does, Logan. Believe me.”
She gave him a knowing look and added with a smile, “Remember what Tucker told us? That even he took forever at the beginning? And Hannah and Garrett too, and they had two babies to change. Imagine two diapers at once!”
She giggled, hoping to lighten the weight in his chest.
Logan smiled weakly, then paused as the image hit him, his best friend Garrett frantically trying to handle two diapers while Gigi and Wyatt screamed in stereo. Even he had struggled. “Yeah… you’re right,” he said, exhaling a laugh.
Together, they got the diaper on. It was crooked. Slightly off-center. One tab a little too tight.
But it was on. And Blake, miraculously, didn’t seem to mind.
“She doesn’t know any better,” Grace whispered, looking down at her daughter, who blinked up at both of them with those familiar blue eyes.
They stood there for a moment, just watching her.
One week later…
They knew they weren’t going to sleep much.
But nothing prepared them for the constant guessing game that came with newborn sounds.
Blake made every noise in the baby catalog: the squeak, the hiccup, the sigh, the grunt, the sudden snort, the stretch-groan, the tiny sneeze. And worst of all, the terrifying mystery gasp that sent Logan bolting out of bed like a man possessed.
He didn’t even put on slippers. Just went straight to the crib in the dark, barefoot and wide-eyed, heart pounding.
Grace, half-asleep, noticed the shift in the mattress. She reached for him, found empty space, and sat up slowly. A moment later, she padded out of the bedroom and found him exactly where she knew he’d be.
Standing beside the crib.Arms crossed tightly over his chest. Eyes locked on their daughter like he was trying to memorize the rise and fall of her chest.
“Babe…” she whispered softly, careful not to startle him. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure she keeps breathing.”
Grace blinked at him, her heart clenching and softening all at once. “Are you going to stand there all night?”
“If I have to, I will.”
He didn’t look away. He just stood there, body tense, gaze unwavering.
Grace stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek against his back. His skin was warm beneath the thin cotton of his shirt, his heartbeat steady under her hands.
“I read somewhere that babies make over 30 weird noises in their sleep,” she murmured.
“I can’t tell the difference yet,” he admitted, voice low. “I know they said it’s normal. But it doesn’t feel normal. It feels like... if I look away for one second, something might go wrong.”
She closed her eyes, held him tighter. “I know. I feel it too.”
They stood like that in silence for a few more moments, breathing in sync with the tiny, steady rhythm coming from the crib.
“You’re a good dad,” Grace whispered eventually.
Logan didn’t respond with words. He just reached down and covered her hand with his, holding it against his stomach. His thumb brushed hers, slow and grateful.
Blake was fast asleep. One hand curled by her cheek, her lips parted just slightly, her chest rising and falling in the most reassuring rhythm in the world.
“Maybe I’m overreacting,” he murmured.
“Or maybe you just love her,” Grace replied. “Loudly. And with your whole heart.”
He turned his head slightly and kissed her temple.
“She’s gonna grow up knowing that,” Grace added. “That her dad never once looked away.”
They eventually tiptoed back to bed. Not for long. But long enough to hold each other and exhale just a little.
Two weeks later…
Logan was in the kitchen making pancakes with far too much vanilla, and keeping close eyes on them before flipping them over when Garrett called.
His best friend checked in nearly every day, always with some mix of jokes, advice, or emotionally-charged swearing. Dean and Tucker called and sent messages regularly too.
The girls did the same for Grace, constantly checking in.
As Logan stirred the batter with one hand, phone pressed between shoulder and ear, Grace came down the stairs, sleepy and slow, Blake in her arms.
The second she heard Logan and Garrett laughing like teenagers, she smiled.
“Who’s that, huh?” she whispered to Blake, gently tapping their noses together. “Wanna guess who we’re seeing today, baby? Uncle Garrett, Auntie Hannah, and your cousins.”
Blake squeaked. Or hiccuped. Or maybe it was a tiny giggle. Grace chose to take it as enthusiasm.
She settled at the table and began to breastfeed while Logan wrapped up the call.
He served breakfast a minute later, still grinning.
“Wyatt and Gigi are apparently dying to meet her in person,” he said, handing her a plate. “And Garrett said if I cry when I hand her over, he’s gonna film it.”
Grace laughed. “You probably will.”
Logan sat beside her, watching Grace and Blake like he still couldn’t believe they were real.
Their life had changed. Radically. Forever.
And somehow, it felt more complete than ever.