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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

RHYS

The call comes just after midnight. I’m half-asleep when my phone buzzes violently against the nightstand, jolting me awake.

I groan as I rub my eyes and reluctantly grab it. Ally stirs beside me, murmuring something indistinct, but my attention is already fixed on the glowing screen—Hayden’s name flashing up in harsh light.

I sit up immediately, my mind racing. Hayden only calls this late when he’s in trouble. “Hayden?” I croak, my voice rough with sleep.

“Come quick,” he blurts, panic lacing every word. “She’s in labour. Millie—she’s—fuck, she’s having the baby.” His tone is frantic, and behind him, I hear the clamour of voices and hurried footsteps in the background.

My pulse spikes. “Okay. Where are you?”

“We’re at the hospital. Yasmin drove us here in a mad dash. We didn’t want to wake you until we knew for sure it was active labour. I don’t—I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do, man.” His breathing quickens, and his words tumble out faster than I can keep up.

Over the panic, I pick out snippets of an odd mix of determination and dread.

“Listen,” I say firmly, already throwing on a shirt as my mind races through what needs to be done. “Stay put. I’m on my way.”

Ally sits up, still in a daze, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?” she asks, her voice laced with concern.

“Millie’s in labour,” I reply, glancing at Ally and then back to the phone in my hand. “Hayden’s freaking out.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Ally throws off the covers and hops out of bed. “Let’s go.”

The drive to the hospital feels like a blur, every red light and turn a reminder of the urgency pulsing through the night. When we finally enter the hospital birthing floor, I immediately spot Hayden pacing in the waiting area.

His hair is in disarray, and he’s running a desperate hand through it with every step. Nearby, Yasmin and Mumma Nat sit quietly, their eyes filled with worry—but there’s an added tension in Yasmin’s posture that hints at something more personal. Millie isn’t just any friend; she’s Yasmin’s sister, and that bond makes tonight even more raw.

As I close the distance to Hayden, his panic deepens. “This is happening. Like, right now,” he stammers. “They just took her back.” His voice trembles under the weight of responsibility and fear.

I grab his shoulder, forcing him to slow down. “Breathe,” I instruct gently.

He shakes his head, eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. “I can’t, man. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be a dad.”

I nod towards a row of plastic chairs. “Sit,” I say, my tone even and calm, hoping to anchor him amidst the turbulence.

Hayden hesitates but eventually sinks into one of the stiff seats. I crouch in front of him, my voice soft yet insistent. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Just be there—for Millie, for yourself, and for your baby.”

He lets out a sharp exhale, his eyes clouded with doubt. “What if I screw this up?”

“You won’t,” I state, my confidence steady even when his voice falters. My heart breaks for Hayden. Becoming a father is scary, but when you knock up a girl you aren’t really dating and are about to become a teenage dad, that is a lot.

“You don’t know that,” he replies, his tone a mix of defiance and fear.

Meeting his gaze squarely, I add, “You’re scared. I get it. But running from what’s happening won’t change things, Hayden.”

He turns his eyes away, jaw set tight with suppressed emotion. “I don’t want to be like our dad.”

“You won’t be,” I insist firmly. “Because you care. And that—that already makes you different.”

He just stares at his trembling hands. I think I see something new beneath his tough exterior—a glint of hope, a vulnerability that resonates. Before I can say more, a nurse appears in the doorway.

“Hayden?” she calls.

He stiffens immediately. “Yeah?”

“She’s asking for you,” the nurse informs him, gentle but urgent.

At that, Hayden rises on legs that seem too shaky to support him. His eyes meet mine for a brief, pleading moment—a silent question of whether I believe he can do this. I squeeze his shoulder in encouragement. “Go. You got this.”

He nods, mustering a semblance of confidence, and follows the nurse down a corridor. As the door clicks shut behind him, the tension in the room shifts subtly. Ally lets out a slow, uncertain breath beside me, her eyes wide. “He’s going to be okay, right?”

I watch the corridor, listening for any sign of him, then turn to her. “Yeah. He is.”

Just then, another figure pushes through the waiting room’s entrance—a familiar face that steadies the room’s collective heartbeat.

Our mum, whose presence always seemed to bring a calm clarity in moments of crisis, steps in. Her eyes, warm yet burdened with concern, scan the anxious faces until they settle on mine. “What’s all the commotion about?” she asks softly, her voice carrying the gentle authority of someone who’s weathered many storms.

She makes her way over to me, offering a hug, which I return and allow her presence to calm me. “He’ll be okay,” she says before breaking the hug and stepping back. Ally steps beside me, and I instinctually pull her closer.

Mum takes us in and smiles. “It’s about damn time,” she says before pulling Ally from my arms and embracing her.

I smile at the scene in front of me. I hadn’t had the chance to call mum to tell her. But I know she’s always liked Ally, and deep down, I know she’s always known that we had feelings for each other. “So you approve?” I ask.

“You fuck this up, and I’m picking her over you,” Mum responds, and Ally steps back to my side with a chuckle.

“Ouch, Mum,” I joke. But I know she’s being serious.

“We agree with your mum,” Arden adds, stepping into our small circle. “You screw this up, and we’ll help her hide the body.” Ella joins him, nodding her agreement. I should be upset that my best friends would choose Ally over me, but I’m not.

“It might be a little too soon to be joking about hiding bodies,” Chase adds, pulling Yasmin from her chair and bringing her over to us.

Arden laughs. “Never. We all knew I was just the scapegoat.”

I look over my friends and stop on Yasmin. I notice her eyes welling up; she’s worried about her sister.

Moments later, a nurse appears and calls Yasmin back. Millie, now in active labour, needs her sister.

Without a word, Yasmin moves, smoothing her hoodie with trembling hands, and slips away into the labyrinthine hallways towards the delivery ward.

Hours pass in an uneasy cocktail of tension and fleeting moments of nervous laughter. We drink horrible hospital coffee that barely warms us, trade half-hearted jokes that mask our anxiety, and check our phones repeatedly as if praying for updates.

And then, miraculously, Hayden reappears from the delivery room, looking dishevelled yet carrying something new in his eyes—a raw and unvarnished relief.

“He’s here,” he announces in a cracked voice. The simple words bring relief to the room.

For a few suspended seconds, silence takes over before everyone erupts. Friends and staff alike close in with congratulations, embraces, and an avalanche of questions. But I hold back, my focus on Hayden.

He looks overwhelmed, unsure if he can truly bear this responsibility—but he’s also undeniably changed.

There’s a fragile steadiness in him that wasn’t there before.

Finally, our eyes meet. I nod in support. “You good?”

He hesitates, then with, a shaky but honest smile, nods back. “Yeah. I think I am.” The weight in his voice is palpable, and in that moment, I truly believe it.

As our mum offers a soft, knowing smile from across the room and Ally gently places a hand on my shoulder, I realise that in the midst of all this turmoil, we’re all learning that sometimes, hope and strength are found in the unlikeliest of moments.