Tangled Hearts.

~Chapter 4~

~Colby~

~June 29, 2015~

Growing up with a dad like Layne Brock was like living with a ticking time bomb—minus the helpful countdown timer. He was always gone, off recruiting rogue wolves or intimidating alphas twice his size. Never around for birthdays or school plays, but always somehow home just in time to yell about the dishes.

I had two older siblings who'd already figured out how to duck when Layne threw a tantrum: Kalani, 27, fierce and sarcastic with the patience of a saint, and Gage, 28, who went missing when j was two, he was 15. Then, when I was 18—just when I thought I'd earned some freedom—life threw us a curveball: Gigi. Five pounds, seven ounces of surprise.

And chaos.

~

The hospital waiting room was a beige hellscape. Kalani was slumped sideways across two chairs, using my hoodie as a makeshift pillow. I was pretty sure the vending machine behind me was plotting my death. Or at least indigestion.

"I swear," Kalani mumbled, eyes still closed, "if Mom takes another six hours, I'm naming the baby 'Patience.' Middle name: 'Tested.'"

I snorted. "Please, you were born dramatic."

Before she could throw something at me, a nurse burst through the double doors, beaming like she'd just won the lottery. "She's here!"

Kalani shot upright. "What? Oh my God." She scrambled to fix her hair even though we both looked like we'd been steamrolled by a sleep-deprived rhino.

We half-jogged down the hallway after the nurse, heartbeats thundering like we were about to meet Beyoncé, not our newborn sister. When we reached Mom's room, the door creaked open and there she was—Mom, looking exhausted and radiant in a way only moms can after pushing a small human out of their body.

Dad was standing beside her, looking like he'd wrestled a grizzly bear and lost. His hair was a mess, his shirt was inside-out, and his face was the color of chalk.

"She's here," Mom whispered, eyes glowing with love. "Meet Gianna Mae Brock."

My heart kind of... stopped.

Kalani was already halfway to the bed, cooing. "Oh my God, Mom, she's so tiny. Like a little burrito!"

"She didn't feel tiny on the way out," Mom groaned with a weak smile. "They had to use the vacuum. That thing looked like it belonged in a janitor's closet."

Kalani turned pale. "Okay, I did not need that visual."

"Neither did I, sweetheart," Dad muttered.

"Oh, hush," Mom said, giving him a playful glare. "You were ready to faint at the first contraction."

"I was not," he said defensively. "I just... stepped outside for air."

"For thirty-five minutes," Kalani deadpanned.

Dad waved a hand. "Semantics."

Then Mom turned to me. "B, come hold her."

I hesitated for a second. I'd held puppies, clarinets, and one extremely wiggly possum once, but this? This was different.

I took her in my arms—so small, soft, and warm—and just like that, the world fell away. Her tiny fingers curled around mine like they knew me already. And when her eyes fluttered open, I swore the universe stopped spinning just for her.

"Hi, Gigi," I whispered.

Kalani leaned against my shoulder. "You're toast, bro. She's already got you wrapped around her finger."