Page 2 of Under His Control

“Yes. I didn’t know Olivia existed until a couple of days ago.”

She raised her brows. “Oh, Olivia is such a beautiful name.”

I shrugged, watching Olivia as she scrunched her face like she was about to wail. “Her mom named her, then never told me that she existed. She was killed in a drunk driving accident a week ago.” I didn’t make a habit of talking to strangers, much less about my personal life or that of my daughter’s, but I’d never see this woman again. This wasn’t a covert mission. Enemies couldn’t be listening. I was a civilian now, not in the service. That adjustment was just as hard—if not harder—than suddenly being a dad.

“Oh, honey.” The woman placed her hand on my forearm. “That’s just terrible. You’re really thrust into all of this, huh?”

“Yes.”Fuck.

Olivia’s lips trembled so much that her pacifier fell out. With that indrawn breath, she braced to let out a mighty cry.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.“No. No, no, no.” I grabbed the pacifier and offered it to her. “Don’t cry. Please.” I doubted begging would work, but I had to make her hear me.

“Can I help?” the woman asked.

I whipped to face her again. “You can do that?” She said she had a son who was killed in combat. She had been a mother to a baby at one point.

“Sure, sure.” She chuckled lightly, holding her hands out. “I’m Jessica. Oh, Olivia, you sleepy little thing.”

As I handed my daughter over to the grandmotherly woman, she cooed and smiled, acting all receptive and sweet and nice. All things that weren’tmeor how I knew how to pretend to be.

I cared. Even though this was all so fucking new and shocking, I cared. At first glance, seeing that Olivia was mine, I loved her on the spot. But love and goodwill did not in any way make up for experience or knowhow—of any kind.

“I’m a nurse at a pediatric office too.” Jessica winked at me.

I tried to smile to show my genuine gratitude as she held and cuddled Olivia, but I couldn’t stop watching and trying to memorize all that she did. The way she held her, how she rubbed her back. All these tricks of the trade that I’d need to figure out on my own.

Unless I ask Jessica if I could just follow her and learn this dark magic of soothing a kid.

All the while, she talked me through steps and suggestions for how to soothe her and hold her better. When Olivia was sleepier, Jessica handed her back over, teaching me how to keep her in my arms—not like she was a bomb about to go off, but as a little human needing security.

Throughout the flight, she lectured and rambled. It was a beginner’s course to handling a baby, but I absorbed every single word. I was clueless, and past the surprise that I was a dad, I wondered if I would ever actually get used to this dynamic of being two. Not a bachelor. Not a soldier. A father-and-daughter duo.

“When was she born?” Jessica asked, still smiling at Olivia now sleeping in my arms.

I told her what Olivia’s daycare owner told me. That was how little family Pamela had. She’d dropped Olivia off on her way to go to work, and when she didn’t come back to pick her up, the daycare owner called the cops and kept her with her until the law enforcement and Children’s Services could get involved.

“Oh, okay. So she’s thirteen months old.”

“I told you that,” I said.

“No. You said over a year.” Jessica smiled again. “In these years, you go by months.”

I furrowed my brow. “For how long?” That seemed kind of strange.

“Well, if you ask my daughter-in-law who never visits me enough, until they’re three years old.” She giggled at my incredulous expression. “I know. I know. Sounds silly. Usually, until they’re two. You stop and shorten it to fifteen or eighteen months. I think most parents generalize from eighteen months to ‘almost two’ for brevity’s sake. Otherwise, you’re putting people on the spot to do math.” She winked.

For the rest of the flight, she showed me websites, social media groups, and even books that she would recommend for me to read and follow. “Don’t go listening to every damn social influencer out there, now.” She rolled her eyes. “Most of them don’t know what they’re talking about and are just pushing a product for affiliation money.”

I nodded. That was true of any kind of social media, I assumed, and that was why I seldom used it or went on it.

“Are you flying home, then?” she asked near the end of the flight.

I dreaded saying goodbye to this helpful woman. I didn’t often get superstitious or believe in the otherworldly, but she was like a guardian angel just appearing when I needed help, even just to talk and ask questions of without sounding like an idiot.

“Not yet.” I wasn’t sure where home was or where it could be anymore. I grew up outside New York, raised by my grandparents, but they were both long-gone. I didn’t know where I should raise Olivia, but I needed a place to stay and a job to start our future together.

“I’m flying to catch up with an old friend.” Tessa West and I had grown up together, sort of. She was younger, but we played together in the apartment building.

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