Page 12 of High Frequency

I love this old man. Enough to forfeit my shower.

The moment I sit down beside him on the porch, he picks up the bell next to him on the small table and starts swinging it. Hard.

In a matter of seconds, Ama comes flying out of the house.

“Keep it down already, old man,” she barks. “What do you need?”

The mischievous look on Thomas’s face has me bite the inside of my cheek not to laugh out loud. He loves getting under Ama’s skin, and most of the time she gives as good as she gets. Today she looks a bit frazzled.

“I’m running low, and young Dan here could do with a beer.”

Ama is about to give him what I suspect is an earful, when a high-pitched squeal sounds from inside. She shoots Thomas a dark glare before she ducks back in the door.

Less than a minute later she returns, a bottle of beer in her hand and a baby on her arm. I’m pretty sure it’s the same baby I saw Sloane carry out of the house a few days ago. The only difference is this time the kid’s bright blue eyes are wide open. If Sloane hadn’t already mentioned she had a daughter, the bright pink outfit would’ve given it away.

“Where’s my drink?” Thomas asks as Ama hands me the beer.

“How many hands does it look like I have?” she bites off. “Not to mention I’ve got better things to do than play bartender for you. Today has been a shitshow of epic proportions. Sully’s truck broke down twenty miles outside of Coeur d’Alene so Jonas is driving out there to pick him and the trailer up. Then Alex was supposed to help me look after this little one today, but she was called away for an emergency at the rescue. I have three loads of laundry still to do and have barely had a chance to start the dinner y’all will be bugging me for shortly.”

No wonder she looks stressed.

“Well, all you had to do was tell me,” Thomas sputters, which doesn’t do much to appease Ama.

So I set down my bottle and put my hands on my knees.

“What do you need me to do?” I offer.

Next thing I know, my arms open automatically when she shoves the baby at me.

“Take her.”

Ama disappears inside before my brain can come up with an objection.

Any baby experience I have began and ended with Carmi, Sully’s daughter, and Fletch’s son, Hunter, and that was twelve or thirteen years ago. It’s not that I don’t like babies, because I do, but the fact this is Sloane’s baby is making it a little awkward. Still, I settle her a little better in the crook of my arm.

Then I hear the creak of the rocking chair and Thomas’s raspy chuckle and look up. The old fart clearly thinks this is funny.

“You should see the look on your face,” he points out as he continues to rock his chair. “I’m guessing young Sloane becoming a parent was a surprise to you as well?”

“Yes,” I grumble, just as a little hand slaps against my chin and catches on the short hairs of my beard.

I drop my eyes to Sloane’s baby, who has her little face turned toward me. I don’t know who the dark hair belongs to, but those blue eyes are unmistakably her mother’s.

“Aspen. That’s her name,” Thomas shares. “Pretty little thing, ain’t she?”

She is, especially when her little mouth spreads in a wide, toothless smile.

“You look good holdin’ that baby,” he continues. “Too bad you let her momma slip away, or that wee one could’a been yours.”

Fuck. That stings.

Should’ve known the old man wouldn’t hesitate to poke his finger in the sore spot.

“I’m not the one who left.”

The bitter comment slips out before I can check it.

“No, you weren’t. You’re just the one who let her walk.”

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