Page 49 of Forsaken Oath

Mason’s my childhood best friend. He recently moved back to Avalon Falls, and a few months ago, he got a call from hismom that some woman had dropped off a newborn at her house, claiming it was his. He’s been dealing with it solo since then, trying to figure out how to care for a baby he never even knew about.

“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. He won’t stop crying, and I…”

“I’ll be right there.” I’m already moving around my house, grabbing my keys and jacket. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, man.”

“Thank you.” He ends the call before I can say anything else, and I don’t take it personally.

I tug a hoodie on and slide my feet into sneakers. I’m out the door in two minutes, sprinting to my car on the street. My adrenaline spikes like I’m about to run another race—not head over to help my friend with a baby.

I offered to help him with whatever he needed, whenever he needed it, but he hadn’t taken me up on it. Until now. I haven’t held a baby since my little sisters were born, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t try to help him now?

I pull up my phone and do a quick search for how to soothe a crying baby, but the results are overwhelming. After skimming the highlights of two articles, I tuck my phone back in my pocket and jump in my truck.

As I speed through the empty streets of Avalon Falls, I pull out my phone and call my youngest sister, Abby. She keeps the weirdest hours with her job, and it’s not uncommon for her to be getting home from an event around now.

Six-and-a-half years younger than me, I didn’t keep up with her as much as I should have. But I’m pretty sure she nannied throughout high school and even into college. If anyone can give me a ten-minute rundown on what to do, it’s her.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. I'm about to hang up when her groggy voice comes through the speaker.

“Beau? What’s wrong? It’s like . . . the middle of the night.”

I wince. “Shit, sorry, Abs. I need your help.”

“What . . . what’s going on?” A yawn cuts off the last word, and guilt swamps me.

“Sorry to wake you. You used to babysit a lot, right? You remember any of that stuff?”

“Yeah, why? What’s going on?” She laughs, the sound tinged with confusion.

“I don’t know if Ma told you, but Mason’s back?—”

“He is?” Her voice gets high, and I hear fabric rustling in the background, like she’s sitting up.

“Yeah, and he’s got a kid now?—”

“Hewhat?”

I take a right, only a few minutes from his house now. “Look, I know I woke you up in the middle of the night, but I need you to save your questions until later.”

She exhales. “Okay, sorry. What’s up?”

“Mason just called me in a panic. He can’t get his son to stop crying.”

“Shit. It must be bad if he’s calling you for backup. No offense,” she mutters, blowing out another breath. “Okay, let me think for a second. How old is his son?”

I drum my fingers along the steering wheel and try to do the math in my head. “I don’t know exactly. Maybe four months? Six? Fuck, I don’t know. I haven’t seen Mason much since the baby showed up on his doorstep?—”

“On his fucking doorstep?” she whisper-hisses, shock making her words fast.

“Later, remember? What should I tell him to do?” Urgency sharpens my tongue, and I force myself to take a breath.

“Right, right. Okay, so it depends on a few things. First thing, check if he has a fever. If he doesn’t, then: When’s the last time he ate? Does he have gas pains? If he only cries when Masonputs him down, then it might be acid reflux, which is a whole other thing. Is he swaddled correctly? Some babies like their arms in and some don’t.”

“Fuck, that’s a lot to remember.” I turn onto Mason’s street.

“I’ll text you a short list.”

“Text Mason instead. He’s the one who really needs it. I’m just pinch hitting tonight.”

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