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Hannah stood in the nursery, one hand gently rocking Gigi’s bassinet while Wyatt rested against her shoulder. She barely had time to appreciate the silence before Gigi’s tiny face scrunched up.
A second later, she let out a piercing cry.
Wyatt immediately joined in.
“Oh, no, no, no…” Hannah sighed softly.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment before opening them again with a tired smile.
“It’s okay. Mama’s got you.”
At just two months old, Gigi and Wyatt usually took turns fussing. If one was awake, the other was sleeping.
Today, however, they’d apparently made a secret agreement to stay awake together.
Hannah bounced Wyatt gently while reaching over to lift Gigi from her bassinet.
“There we go…”
Now she had one baby cradled in each arm.
For about thirty seconds, it worked.
Then Wyatt let out another loud wail.
Gigi answered him immediately.
The cries echoed through the apartment.
Hannah glanced toward the clock.
10:17 a.m.
Garrett had texted nearly an hour ago after arriving at the hotel the Bruins had set up for the players.
Good morning, beautiful. Hope the babies let you sleep. Love you.
She smiled despite herself.
She hadn’t answered yet.
Not because she didn’t want to.
Because every time she’d picked up her phone, one of the twins had needed something.
Or both.
⸻
Garrett hated road trips for one reason.
Leaving them.
He loved hockey. Playing in the NHL had been his dream since he was a kid.
But leaving Hannah alone with newborn twins?
That part never got easier.
After breakfast with his teammates, he found himself scrolling through photos on his phone.
One of Hannah asleep on the couch with Wyatt sprawled on her chest.
Another of Gigi gripping his finger with surprising strength.
Then the newest one.
The four of them together.
Messy hair.
Dark circles.
Matching smiles.
His favorite picture in the world.
He quickly sent another message.
Thinking about you three. Call me anytime today if you need me. Doesn’t matter what I’m doing.
He hit send.
⸻
Back home, Hannah finally managed to settle Wyatt.
She laid him carefully into the swing.
Success.
She smiled.
“You did it, buddy.”
The smile lasted exactly five seconds.
Wyatt’s eyes snapped open.
His tiny lip trembled.
“Oh…”
The crying began again.
Gigi, who had almost drifted asleep against Hannah’s shoulder, woke instantly.
Now both babies were crying harder than before.
Hannah laughed weakly.
“You two planned this, didn’t you?”
She picked Wyatt back up.
One baby in each arm again.
They both continued crying.
“I know… I know…”
She checked diapers.
Clean.
She tried to breastfeed them,
Neither wanted it.
She burped them again.
Nothing.
Fresh outfits.
Nothing.
Pacifiers.
Rejected immediately.
She paced the hallway.
The living room.
The kitchen.
Back again.
Nothing worked.
⸻
By lunchtime Hannah realized she hadn’t eaten.
Her coffee sat untouched on the counter.
Cold.
She tried making toast.
The moment the bread popped from the toaster—
Both babies screamed louder.
The toast remained forgotten.
She carried the twins into the living room.
“Let’s try tummy time.”
That lasted less than two minutes.
More crying.
More tears.
This time…
Some of them belonged to Hannah.
Not because she was angry.
Not because she regretted becoming a mom.
Because she was exhausted.
She loved these babies more than anything.
She just wished she knew what they needed.
“I’m trying,” she whispered, blinking away tears.
“I’m trying so hard.”
⸻
At the Bruins’ morning skate, Garrett couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
“You good?” one of his teammates asked.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
Garrett nodded.
“Just missing home.”
The teammate smiled knowingly.
“Twins will do that.”
Garrett laughed.
“They’re only two months old and somehow they’re already running my life.”
“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“I really wouldn’t.”
⸻
By early afternoon Hannah had finally managed to get both babies asleep.
She stared at them in disbelief.
“No way…”
She slowly lowered herself onto the couch.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Didn’t even blink.
Five peaceful minutes.
Six.
Seven.
Her stomach growled.
Maybe she could finally eat.
She carefully stood.
One floorboard creaked.
Wyatt stirred.
“No…”
He stretched.
Opened one eye.
Then cried.
Gigi followed instantly.
Hannah stared at the ceiling.
“…Seriously?”
She almost laughed.
Almost.
Instead she picked them both up again.
“It’s okay.”
Even though she wasn’t sure she believed it anymore.
⸻
That evening Garrett called after arriving at the arena.
The call went straight to voicemail.
He frowned.
That wasn’t like Hannah.
He tried again.
No answer.
He stared at his phone for another moment before slipping it back into his bag.
“Everything okay?” another teammate asked.
“I hope so.”
⸻
Back at home Hannah hadn’t even heard the phone ringing.
She was standing in the nursery.
One twin in each arm.
Softly swaying back and forth.
Running on almost no sleep.
The tears she’d been holding back all day finally escaped.
“I miss Daddy too.”
She kissed Gigi’s forehead.
Then Wyatt’s.
“He’s coming home soon.”
The words were meant for the babies.
But somehow…
She needed to hear it too
By six o’clock that evening, Hannah couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat down for more than a minute.
Her hair had escaped the messy bun she’d thrown together that morning. There was a faint spit-up stain on her T-shirt, and she couldn’t remember whether she’d actually eaten lunch or simply thought about it.
Gigi fussed in her arms while Wyatt whimpered in his bouncer.
“It’s okay,” Hannah murmured, rocking Gigi. “We’re going to figure this out.”
As soon as Gigi quieted, Wyatt’s cries grew louder.
She gently laid Gigi against her shoulder and hurried over to pick up Wyatt.
Almost instantly, Gigi started crying again.
Hannah looked from one baby to the other.
“Oh, you two…” she whispered with a tired smile. “You really need your dad.”
She wasn’t sure whether she meant the twins—or herself.
⸻
Hundreds of miles away, Garrett finished stretching in the Bruins’ locker room.
Music played around him. Teammates joked back and forth as they got dressed.
Normally Garrett joined in.
Tonight, he barely noticed.
He checked his phone again.
Still nothing.
No text.
No missed calls.
Just silence.
He typed another message.
Checking in. I love you. You don’t have to do today perfectly. You’re already an amazing mom. Call me whenever you can. ❤️
He hit send before slipping the phone back into his stall.
“I’ll hear from her after the game,” he told himself.
Still…
Something didn’t feel right.
⸻
Back home, Hannah finally saw the notification while warming bottles.
Garrett’s message filled the screen.
Her eyes immediately stung with fresh tears.
She typed.
It’s just been a really hard day. They won’t settle. I feel like I’m failing.
She stared at the words.
Then deleted them.
Instead she wrote:
We’re okay. Good luck tonight. Love you.
She pressed send.
It felt easier than admitting how overwhelmed she really was.
⸻
The twins drank a little from their bottles.
Not much.
Just enough to make Hannah hopeful.
She carefully burped Wyatt.
Then Gigi.
For one miraculous moment…
Both babies were quiet.
She smiled hopefully.
“Maybe that’s all you needed.”
She carried them into the living room and settled onto the couch with one baby tucked against each side of her.
The apartment felt peaceful.
Outside, the sun dipped lower in the sky.
Hannah leaned her head back.
Just for a second.
Five minutes later…
Gigi cried.
Wyatt joined in before Hannah could even sit upright.
She sighed.
“Round… what are we on now? Twenty?”
⸻
The arena buzzed with excitement as warmups began.
Garrett skated onto the ice, waving briefly toward a section of Bruins fans wearing his jersey.
Normally he’d smile wider.
Tonight he found himself imagining home instead.
Hannah pacing the hallway.
Wyatt curled against her shoulder.
Gigi wrapped in her favorite blanket.
He knew she always insisted she could handle things.
But he also knew Hannah.
When she struggled, she rarely asked for help.
⸻
The first period was fast and physical.
Garrett threw himself into every shift, blocking shots and battling along the boards.
Still, every whistle found his thoughts drifting home.
When the horn sounded to end the period, he hurried toward the locker room.
The first thing he reached for wasn’t his water bottle.
It was his phone.
One missed call.
From Hannah.
His heart skipped.
He pressed call before he even sat down.
She answered almost immediately.
“…Hi.”
The single word was enough.
Garrett knew.
Her voice was small.
Hoarse.
Like she’d been crying.
“Hannah?”
She took a shaky breath.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I just…” Her voice cracked. “I can’t get them to settle today.”
He closed his eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“They’ve been crying almost all day.”
“I’ve checked everything.”
“They won’t sleep.”
“They barely ate.”
“I haven’t done anything right.”
“You have,” Garrett said gently.
“No.”
“I have.”
“You’ve loved them all day.”
Silence.
Then he heard her crying quietly.
“I’m so tired, Garrett.”
“I know.”
“I hate that I’m not there.”
“I just need…” she whispered.
“I need to hear your voice.”
He smiled softly despite the ache in his chest.
“You’ve got me.”
For the next few minutes he simply talked.
About nothing.
About everything.
He reminded her how incredible she was.
He told her that two-month-old babies sometimes had impossibly difficult days.
That it didn’t mean she’d done anything wrong.
That tomorrow could look completely different.
Eventually he heard tiny cries in the background.
“Can I say hi to my babies?”
A tiny laugh escaped Hannah.
“I think they’d like that.”
She switched to video.
Garrett’s heart melted instantly.
There they were.
Gigi bundled against Hannah’s shoulder.
Wyatt tucked into the crook of her other arm.
Red-faced.
Sleepy.
Beautiful.
“Hey, Gigi Bug.”
Her crying slowed.
“And there’s my little Wyatt.”
Wyatt blinked toward the phone.
Garrett grinned.
“Daddy misses you two so much.”
For a moment…
Neither baby cried.
Hannah noticed immediately.
“I think they know your voice.”
“They definitely know yours,” Garrett replied. “You’ve been their safe place all day.”
Fresh tears filled Hannah’s eyes.
This time…
They weren’t only from exhaustion.
They were from relief.
For the first time all day…
She didn’t feel like she was carrying everything alone.
And somehow, through a phone screen hundreds of miles away…
Garrett made home feel just a little lighter.