The house was quiet when I let myself in. The same as I remembered. The same—but different. Maybe it was me that was different. Three months had felt like a lifetime, but I’d done the work. I’d fought like hell to be here.

I crept up the stairs, my heart pounding harder with every step. Seeing her would be different from hearing her voice over the phone. I’d called every day, never missing a single one, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing could be.

Her bedroom door was slightly open, and I pushed it just enough to see inside.

She was standing in front of the mirror, one hand resting on her stomach, her fingers trailing over the bump that had grown so much since I last saw her.

Our baby.

Something in my chest clenched. I’d missed this. Missed them.

Moving quietly, I stepped behind her, wrapping one of my tattooed arms around her waist and pulling her back against me.

She gasped, stiffening for a second before realizing who it was. Then she exhaled, her whole body melting into mine.

“Joey,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“Hey, baby,” I murmured, pressing my lips against her shoulder.

Her hands covered mine where they rested on her stomach, holding me there, grounding both of us.

“You’re home,” she breathed, tilting her head back against my chest.

I swallowed hard, tightening my hold on her. “Yeah. I’m home.”