Tangled Hearts.

~Chapter 58~

~Raelyn~

~November 16th~

I always imagined leaving the hospital with my newborn would feel like a Hallmark movie. Soft violins. Warm light. A grateful, glowing mother carrying her miracle into the golden light of the world. Instead, I was sweating through my maternity bra, my nipples felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to them, and I was 90% sure my stitches were going to rip open if I sat wrong.

Romantic, right?

Still, there was a softness to the morning. The kind that makes you think—for a fleeting moment—that maybe things will be okay. That maybe the darkness in your life has been shoved back just a little.

Sunlight spilled into the room like honey, pooling over Aspen's face as she slept in my arms. She had Colby's lashes. My mouth. A little patch of dark hair that stood up in defiance of gravity, like she already knew she was born to stir shit up.

I couldn't stop looking at her.

Three days in the hospital and I still didn't believe she was real.

Isa flopped down in the chair next to me, a large iced coffee in one hand and a Target bag in the other. "Okay, I found a glittery pacifier, a swaddle that says 'little legend,' and *tiny* socks that look like Converse. Do I need to be stopped?"

"No," I said, grinning. "You need a budget."

Isa scoffed. "My niece deserves excess."

"You're going to be the best aunt," I said quietly, brushing a finger over Aspen's cheek. She stirred, her lips parting in that weird gummy fish face newborns make.

Isa leaned in. "I've already planned her first birthday. It's witch-themed. Black cupcakes. Crow decorations. Spooky onesies. Colby can wear his resting murder face like a party favor."

"Can't wait to see him in a glitter sash," I muttered.

"Girl," Isa said seriously, "I've already ordered one."

Right on cue, the door creaked open and Colby stepped in—car seat in one hand, iced black coffee in the other, eyes rimmed with the kind of exhaustion that says *'I haven't slept since Reagan was in office.'*

"Ladies," he said, offering a two-finger salute. "We ready?"

He looked down at Aspen, and I saw it—beneath the sarcasm and sleep deprivation, the pride. That soft ache in his chest he tried to hide. He was hers. Body and soul.

"You ready to go home, my girls?" he asked.

I swallowed hard. I hadn't cried much since giving birth, surprisingly. But something about those words—**'my girls'**—hit differently.

"More than ready," I whispered.

---

Colby installed the car seat with the precision of a bomb squad tech while I slipped Aspen into the soft beige onesie Isa picked. She wore a headband that was practically sliding off her skull—it looked ridiculous and adorable.

She fussed the whole time, of course. Which, honestly, felt like a good omen. She was clearly mine.

"Look at her, Colby," I murmured, settling the headband for the eighth time. "She's perfect."

He didn't say anything right away. Just reached over and took my hand.

"She gets that from her mom," he said finally, voice low. Then he smirked. "Also, that headband looks like it's trying to eat her."

I rolled my eyes and kissed Aspen's forehead. "Fashion is pain."

~

The walk out of the hospital was surreal. Nurses smiled. One even gave me a little wink. A few people tried to peek into the car seat. Colby scared them off with a single look.