Page 66 of Rescuing Ally, Part 2 (CHARLIE Team: Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists #8)

“Don’t lie to me.” The words come out sharper than intended, pregnancy hormones making my emotions run closer to the surface than usual. “I can read you, Gabriel Martinez. After everything we’ve been through, after losing Hank, don’t you dare start keeping secrets from me.”

He flinches at the accusation, guilt flickering across features he’s trying so hard to keep controlled.

“Ally—”

“You’ve been lighter. Happier. Which should be wonderful, except it started the day we found out about the baby. You smiled when Skye said we were having a son. Really smiled, for the first time since Hank died. Why?”

“Because we’re having a baby?—”

“That’s not why.” I grab his chin and force him to meet my eyes. His skin is rough with afternoon stubble, warm under my palm. “Look at me and tell me what you’re not saying.”

The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken truth. Ocean wind carries salt spray that tastes of storms approaching, weather that matches the tension building in Gabe’s expression.

“It’s complicated,” he says finally.

“Everything about our life is complicated. That’s never stopped us from talking about it before.”

“This is different.”

“How?”

“Because…” He stops, runs his hands through his hair in frustration. The dark strands stick up at odd angles, making him look vulnerable. “Because it changes things. Because once I say it, we can’t go back to not knowing.”

“Knowing, what?”

“The truth.” The words come out like a confession, weighted with implications that make my stomach clench with something that isn’t morning sickness. “About the baby. About what this means.”

Fear crawls up my spine with icy fingers. “What truth?”

Gabe stands and begins pacing the length of the deck. Back and forth, hands clenched at his sides, internal war playing out in every movement. His bare feet slap against warm wood with each turn.

“When you asked about paternity testing,” he says finally, stopping mid-pace to face me. “I wanted to tell you then. Should have told you then. But I was being selfish.”

“Selfish how?”

“Because I wanted you to want this baby for the right reasons. Not because of who his father is, but because he’s ours. Because he exists. Because he chose us despite everything stacked against him.”

The fear in my stomach intensifies, twisting into something that threatens to steal my breath. “Gabe, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to figure out how to tell you something that changes everything without making you think it changes everything.”

“Just say it.” The words explode from me with force that surprises us both. A seagull on the railing squawks and takes flight, wings beating frantically as it disappears over the cliff edge. “Whatever it is, just say it instead of dancing around it like it’s going to kill me.”

He stops pacing, turns to face me fully, and I see something in his eyes that takes my breath away. Not fear or uncertainty, but peace. Deep, profound peace mixed with sadness, love, and something that resembles gratitude.

“The baby is Hank’s,” he says quietly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I can’t have children.”

The second revelation follows the first like thunder after lightning, rolling over me with force that threatens to flatten everything in its path. Can’t have children?

“What?”

“Old injury. Damaged beyond repair. I found out years ago, before I met either of you.” He sits back down beside me, movements careful as if I might shatter. The bench creaks under his weight. “I’m sterile, Ally. Have been for years.”

The words echo in my head, bouncing around like ricochets that can’t find a safe place to land. Sterile. Can’t have children. The baby is Hank’s.

“How long have you known?” My voice sounds distant to my own ears, shock making everything feel unreal.

“Since the first positive test.” He reaches for my hand, holds it like lifeline. “Since Skye told us you were pregnant. I knew immediately it had to be Hank’s.”

“All this time…” I stare at him, seeing weeks of careful restraint in a new light. “You’ve been carrying this alone.”

“I had to.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed you to fight for our baby. I needed you to choose him, to want him, to risk everything for him because he mattered to you. Not because he’s Hank’s son, but because he’s your son.

” His thumb traces patterns on my skin that speak to apology and explanation intertwined.

“If I’d told you right away, every decision would have been about preserving Hank’s legacy instead of creating our family. ”

The logic makes sense even as it infuriates me. Because he’s right—knowing the baby was Hank’s would have changed everything. The risks would have felt different, the stakes higher, the decisions weighted with grief instead of hope.

“When were you going to tell me?”

“After you had time to bond with him as your son instead of Hank’s ghost.” His smile holds sadness alongside relief. “I’ve been carrying this for weeks, Ally. Knowing and not being able to share it. Watching you worry about paternity when I knew the answer all along.”

“You bastard.” The words come out without heat. I could be angry, but I’m not. I’ve never been happier. “You manipulative, protective, impossible bastard.”

“You love that about me.”

“This is huge, Gabe. This changes everything.”

“Does it?” He searches my face for signs of regret or resentment. “You’re still pregnant. Still having his son. Still building a family with me. The only thing that’s changed is certainty about paternity.”

I consider this, testing the truth of it against emotions that feel too big for my chest. He’s right—the love I feel for this baby doesn’t depend on DNA. The future we’re building doesn’t require specific chromosomes to be meaningful.

But knowing he’s Hank’s son…

“You’re carrying Hank’s baby,” Gabe continues, voice soft with wonder that’s been building for weeks. “Part of him that death can’t touch, a legacy that will outlive all of us. He’s not really gone, Ally. He’s going to live on in our memories, in our hearts, and in our family.”

The truth of it hits like sunrise after the longest night, illuminating everything with sudden joy. Hank’s baby. Hank’s son. A piece of the man we lost, growing inside me, preparing to join a world that needs his father’s steadiness and strength.

“Oh my God.” The words come out as a whisper; my hands move automatically to my stomach, where Hank’s son grows safely. “We’re having Hank’s baby.”

“We’re having Hank’s baby,” Gabe confirms, a smile breaking across features that have carried too much shadow for too long.

Tears fall without permission, hot against skin that’s suddenly too sensitive. Hank’s baby. Hank’s son. A piece of the man we lost, growing inside me, preparing to join a world that needs his father’s steadiness and strength.

“We get to raise Hank’s son together. We get to tell him about his father—how brave he was, how much he loved us, how he died protecting the people who mattered the most to him.” Gabe’s voice breaks on the words as the emotion he’s been containing finally finds an outlet.

“I love you,” I tell Gabe, meaning more than simple affection.

“I love you too. Both of you.” His hand covers mine where it rests on my stomach. “All three of us, actually. Because he’s still here. Still a part of us.”

The sun disappears behind the horizon, painting the sky in colors that would have made Hank smile.

Love creates its own kind of immortality.

We’re going to be a family. Different from what we planned, shaped by loss but strengthened by love, carrying forward with the best of what we’ve been given.

Sometimes, that’s not just enough.

It’s everything.