Page 97 of Full Out Fiend
“Thank you,” I whisper, leaning into his side as he wraps me in a hug.
That meager sentiment doesn’t begin to cover all the ways he’s supported me and lifted me up over the last three weeks, but it’s all my exhausted brain can muster. Fatherhood undoubtedly looks good on Fielding Haas. Unconditional love looks even better.
“Daphne.”
I barely register my name through the fog of deep, delicious sleep.
“Daphne.”
I squint my eyes open, then sit up too fast. My head spins and my incision aches—I’m probably going to need a few ibuprofen to feel human today. I reach for my phone out of habit, shocked to see that it’s almost two.
“I’m so sorry to wake you, angel. But your family will be here soon, and I figured you wanted to feed her and pump before they arrive.”
A slow, full-body yawn consumes me as I come to enough to make sense of what’s happening. I fell asleep immediately after my shower. I’ve been asleep for more than five hours, and I haven’t felt this rested in weeks.
“I can’t believe I slept that long.”
“You needed it,” Fielding insists, grabbing my nursing pillow and helping me get situated before handing over our daughter.
He moves around the bed and pulls open the blinds, filling the room with sunlight. Elowyn closes her eyes against the sudden brightness, her blue irises disappearing for a few seconds before she reopens them, focuses on me, and smiles.
“Fielding! She smiled! She just smiled at me!”
My heart melts as I hold her close, breathing in her delicious fresh baby scent. Of course she roots around on contact and even tries to latch on to my neck. The little fiend.
“She did that for me earlier,” he admits, coming over to brush her downy hair. “She took one bottle while you slept, then I held her off for as long as I could to give you some extra rest.”
As if she knows we’re talking about her, Winnie whips her little head back and forth rapidly, mouth gaping, desperate to latch. My boobs are fuller than they’ve ever been, and instant relief hits the second she starts nursing.
“I have to finish up a few things in the kitchen. Do you want me to come get her when she’s done so you can pump?”
“I can manage,” I assure him, and for the first time in the two weeks since we’ve been home, I feel like it’s true. It’s amazing what a shower and a five-hour nap can do. That, and having a supportive partner.
Almost an hour later, I make my way into the living room, cradling a sleeping Winnie in my arms. She conked out on me as soon as she finished nursing, so pumping and getting ready were a breeze. Plus, she smiled twice more when I held her. It’s turning out to be a pretty fantastic day.
I pat her bum and step down into the sunken living room, overcome with glee at the sight of my little sister sitting on the couch, staring at her phone.
“TT!” I whisper, desperate not to wake the baby but so darn happy to see her in person.
Tahlia jumps off the couch and dashes toward me but freezes once she’s within arm’s reach.
“Oh my gosh. She’s so little! Can I hug you? Can I hold her? I washed my hands when I got here. Fielding said you’re still sore, and that I have to be careful…”
I roll my eyes and wrap my sister in a one-armed hug, holding on to her for much longer than normal.
Speaking of Fielding…
I don’t have a chance to ask before I hear him somewhere in the house. His voice is muffled but grows stronger when my father’s voice carries into the room.
I guide Tahlia back to the couch and raise one finger to my lips. She nods, probably thinking that I want her to be quiet while the baby sleeps. Really, I’m just desperate to know what they’re saying.
“There should be no confusion: I have clear boundaries for today and all future visits.”
I gulp down a sense of dread, bracing for my father’s rebuttal. But I don’t hear his reply. I only hear Fielding speak again.
“You’re here because I’m allowing you to be. If I hear one passive aggressive comment, or if you make one remark that doesn’t land well, you’re out. Even if you say something thataccidentallysets her off, you’re out. Don’t test me. There won’t be second chances. Have I made myself clear?”
Months ago, I would have cowered at the idea of someone speaking like that to my parents. Now, I practically crave it. I can stick up for myself, but there’s so much comfort in knowing I’m not in this alone.