The weather was warmer than usual for a late fall morning in North Texas, the heavy air loaded with the threat of a thunderstorm. Mitch Kent was gripping the handlebar of the double stroller so tightly as he stalked toward the medical plaza that his knuckles were turning white. Anger roared through him as reality sucker punched him. He’d already lost so much. A father twenty-three months ago. A wife less than that. The possibility of losing Rea, his infant daughter, gnawed away what was left of his gut.

Granted, all signs pointed toward positive news this visit for his younger and smaller twin. Life had taught Mitch how fast it could reverse and how devastating it could be when it took a wrong turn. He felt like he had about as much control as a sailboat in a hurricane. And that made him all kinds of frustrated. Mitch didn’t go the helpless-victim route.

His cell buzzed in his pocket, breaking the pressure building between his shoulders that was threatening to crack him in half. He fished it out and checked the screen. It was Amber, his sister and the youngest of six Kent siblings.

“Wish I could be there with you, Mitch.” She skipped over hellos.

“It’s fine,” he said probably a little too fast.

“You’re not and you don’t have to be,” she countered, her voice strained. He appreciated the concern, just not the fuss.

“We talked about it last night when you called. You’re needed at the ranch and I can handle this,” he reassured her. He hoped she didn’t pick up on the emptiness in those words.

There was a long pause.

“Are you sure you want to do this by yourself?” she finally asked. He didn’t want to do any of it alone but life had detoured, leaving him to roll with the turns and try not to get sucked into the current.

“I haven’t had two minutes of privacy since the twins were born,” he said with a half laugh. That part was true enough and he tried to lighten the mood with humor. Anything to keep his thoughts from taking the headfirst dive that always left him wondering how he’d do any of this without Kimberly.

“You know what I mean.” She was the last of his siblings to call before the twins’ one-year checkup. Each of his brothers—Will, Devin, Nate and Jordan—had done their best to lift Mitch’s mood. During the appointment, he’d learn if his younger twin, the little girl, was in the clear or headed for surgery. The thought of anyone cracking open her tiny body was a hot poker in his chest.

“I know you’d be here if you could, Amber. The ranch needs you more than I do.” The Kent siblings had inherited their parents’ North Texas cattle ranch nearly two years ago, following their father’s death. Their mother had passed six months prior.

The one-hour drive into Fort Worth had been smooth and the twins had slept most of the way. But the two were wide-awake now and taking in the scenery as he pushed their stroller onto the center of the medical plaza. A maze of buildings surrounded them and there was a memorial fountain that was catching the twins’ attention in the center of the complex. Mitch stopped in front of the three-story glass-walled structure attached to the hospital in the state-of-the-art building that contained the doctor his wife had handpicked for their babies.

“She’s going to be okay, Mitch. You know that, right?” Amber said, and he could hear the concern in her voice even though she tried to mask it.

“There’s every reason to hope based on the last couple of appointments,” he responded. The last eleven months without Kimberly had been hell. Mitch Kent missed his wife. He missed the way her hair smelled like freshly cut lilies when she would curl into the crook of his arm every night in bed. He missed the feel of her warm body pressed to his, long into the night. The easy way they had with each other, talking until the sun came up. And he missed coming home to her smile every night after a long day of working his family’s cattle ranch. Losing her had damn near shattered him.

First his mother, followed by his father. Then his wife. He’d lost so much.

Mitch realized he was still tightly gripping the stroller with his left hand. He flexed and released his fingers to get the blood flowing again.

“Those babies couldn’t have asked for a better father.” With five rough-and-tumble brothers, Amber was the emotional voice of the Kent brood.

“They need their mother.” There were more times than Mitch could count that he’d wished his wife was still alive. They might have dated only a few months before tying the knot, but he’d fallen hard. When a man met the woman he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with, he knew it. Hers had been cut way too short. “I’m glad they have you.”

“Good. Because I’m not going anywhere. Call me Super Aunt.” He could tell she was getting emotional based on the change in her tone and the lame attempt at humor.

“Sounds like a plan.” He went with it.

“And don’t forget Amy.” She was referring to their cousin. Amber and Amy were close in age, and both were mostly sweet with wild streaks that got them in trouble from time to time. Both had hearts of gold, and he couldn’t have asked for better women to be in his twins’ lives.

“Call or text the minute you get word.” Amber made him promise.

“I will,” he said before ending the call.

Mitch would learn today if his daughter, born two minutes after his son and almost two pounds lighter, was in the clear. In the best-case scenario, the small hole in the wall that separated the two lower chambers of Rea’s heart was still too small to cause any serious damage, like overworking her heart and lungs or sending blood flowing in the wrong direction. Mitch blocked out another possibility. The one that involved a lot of medical jargon, some kind of fabric patch and cracking open the center of his baby girl’s chest.

The appointment last month had gone

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