Come Back Home

Chapter Three

-Brooklyn's POV-

"Hello, my little man." I scooped up Wyatt, grinning as he made a little blubbery sound of excitement. Three months ago, my perfect little boy had been brought into the world – And for all of the worrying and fretting and the complications that had arose, it was worth it. He was worth it. I suddenly understood the pride that mothers felt, bragging about all of the small things that their children had done, because everything that he did was a miracle – Not that he'd done very much yet. He ate, he slept, he pooped – And all of it was incredible. Well, the filling of the diapers, maybe not quite so much, but, still.

Everything about him – His little button nose, his tiny toenails, his bright blue eyes – They were all features to admire and coo about. The only bad part about being a father was that I didn't get to spend every single waking moment with him. I still lived at the flat with the boys, but I visited any time that I could. Now that we were going to America, though, I had no choice.

His mother walked into the room, watching us anxiously as I flew him about like an airplane. Stacey had changed drastically since she'd had our son. Now she always held herself in an anxious, unsure demeanor, and was proving to be an overprotective mother. I couldn't blame her – Her own parents weren't much of a help with the baby, so, for the most part, she had to take care of him all by herself, although my mum chipped in, too, and I did whenever I could. There were worse things than being cautious – It gave me peace of mind to know that I could trust her with him. I didn't want anything to happen to our beautiful little baby boy, either.

I tucked him into my chest instead, cradling him carefully, and I watched her face relax just the slightest bit. It felt weird to know that it had only been a year since I'd visited her house over our break. I'd been tense and jittery then, still tickled by the ends of our disastrous relationship and not quite sure if I was ready to be a father at 18, not to mention the fear of a repeat visit from the hoodlum who'd given me a wake-up call in a hospital bathroom.

She still hadn't looked pregnant yet, and I wouldn't have known if she hadn't told me. It was odd and terrifying for me to think that one quick mistake had morphed into something so big. One night had created life. More than just learning details about the baby, I'd also been informed of who it was who had beat me up mercilessly – My eye was still ringed with light shades of purple and blue then. His name was Damien, and he'd dated Stacey before she broke things off with him and kissed me in the parking lot instead.

I didn't have to worry about him anymore, though – Merely two days after he'd left me bleeding on the floor, and I'd still been cooped up in the flat with an illness, he'd been arrested for something different entirely. I still signed up for self-defense classes at the gym, but knowing that he would no longer be a threat felt like a giant weight being lifted off of my chest.

As time went on, I became more excited about the baby – I'd always been so confused as to why people got so excited over the first pictures of the baby, when they looked more like blobs, and you could barely make out what it was supposed to be. The first time that I'd seen an ultrasound of Wyatt, though, it had taken my breath away. And even though the doctor still had to point out where the head was, it was proof that we had created something. A teeny tiny human being, who wasn't quite ready to meet us yet.

Stacey began labor when we were in the middle of a show. The moment that we'd gotten offstage and I saw her text, I headed straight for the hospital, skipping meet & greet entirely and thanking the lord that we were only in London. The moment that I first held him, time seemed to freeze. He was so small, smaller than I even would've imagined he would be, and yet still so beautiful. He wrapped his hand around my finger and I could've sworn that he smiled up at me. Later on, when the nurse was changing his nappie and he was crying up a storm, I walked over to him and lightly touched his forehead. He stopped whining when I did, and it felt like magic.

My mum had cried when I told her – At first I was afraid that she was upset. She wasn't happy that I'd done it unprotected, especially at such an unideal time, but more than that, she was happy, and she promised to help with the baby as much as possible. I'd eventually had to tell Blair and the other boys about him, as well – partly out of pride, and partly out of an uncertainty of what to do. The fans weren't allowed to know about him, and he and Stacey weren't allowed to move in with us. And, although I missed him whenever we were apart, this last rule was probably for the best.

Stacey and I had never fully patched things up together – To be fair, we'd agreed to not even bother trying. It would be easier for both of us to work things out as friends, and not make another relationship attempt that could crash and burn just like the first one, which would only complicate things further for the baby. For the most part, I was okay with this – I would do anything for Wyatt. I loved him more than anything else in this world. Sometimes, though, at night, the knowledge that I had loved and lost still made my heart ache. But, I hadn't really lost, had I? I had gained my baby boy, and that was worth it. That made anything worth it.

I buried my nose into the crook of his neck – He still had that soft baby smell there – And breathed him in. I wished that I could be a better father, that I could settle down and stay with him, that I wouldn't have to risk missing his first words, his first steps. But, unfortunately, I couldn't trade out the life that I'd been given. I couldn't give up the success that we'd worked so hard for for so long. I'd just have to take my memory of him and carry it with me for the next two months.

I felt bad for hoping that they would go by quickly.