Page 50 of Forsaken Oath

“What? No,” she sputters. “I’m not just going totextMason Calloway.”

I’m too distracted to unpack what’s going on here. “Okay, we’ll I’m here. Thanks for your help, and I’m sorry again for waking you.”

“It’s fine, Beau. I had to get up soon for work anyway,” she says.

“You work too hard, Abs.”

Abby chuckles softly on the other end of the line. “Yeah, maybe, but we all do what we gotta do, right? Let me know how it goes.”

“Will do. Later, sis.”

“Talk later,” she says before hanging up.

I pull into Mason’s driveway and jump out of the truck. The baby’s cries are audible even from outside. I jog up the walkway and let myself in with the spare key he keeps leaving under a terracotta flower pot on his front porch.

Inside, the cries are louder, echoing off the walls. I follow the sound to the living room, where I find Mason pacing back and forth, bouncing the red-faced infant in his arms. He looks up when I enter, his eyes wild and desperate.

“Thank fuck.” His voice is hoarse, like he’s been trying to soothe the baby for hours. Knowing him, he has been.

“What do you need me to do?”

“I don’t know, man. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” Mason bounces Theo in his arms, his movements jerky and uncoordinated, like he’s running on fumes and instinct alone.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and it’s a text from Abby about all the things we talked about. It buzzes in my hand and three links to videos on swaddling techniques come in.

“Alright, let’s check his temperature first. Where’s your thermometer?”

Mason gestures vaguely toward the kitchen with his free hand. “In the drawer by the sink. But I already checked. He doesn’t have a fever.”

I nod, quickly scanning the rest of Abby’s text. “Okay, when’s the last time he ate?”

“About an hour ago. I just fed him.” Mason’s voice is strained, his words punctuated by the baby’s persistent wails.

“And you burped him after?” I ask, recalling another bullet point from my sister’s impromptu baby advice.

Mason pauses mid-pace, his brows furrowing. “Yeah, I think so. But maybe not enough? I don’t know, man. I’m still figuring this shit out.”

I nod, stepping closer. “Okay, want me to try?” I hold out my arms, and after a moment’s hesitation, Mason carefully transfers the squalling infant to me.

The baby feels so small and fragile in my arms, his little face scrunched up and red as he cries. I adjust my hold, trying to remember how I used to hold my sisters when they were this size.

I cradle Theo against my chest, his head resting on my shoulder. With one hand supporting his bottom, I pat his back gently but firmly, pacing the living room as I do.

“C’mon, little man,” I murmur, my voice low and soothing. “Let’s see if you’ve got anything in the tank, yeah?”

I keep patting, walking slow circles around the room. And then, like a pint-sized miracle, Theo lets out a burp against my shoulder.

His tiny body seems to deflate, all the tension and discomfort leaving him in that one small expulsion. He nestles into my chest, his cries tapering off into exhausted whimpers.

I keep rubbing his back, gentler now, and slowly his breathing evens out. The silence that settles over the room feels almost holy, a reprieve after the storm of his cries.

“Dude, what the actual fuck?” Mason whisper-hisses.

I turn, keeping my same pace and face him. “What?”

“Are you like a baby whisperer or something? No offense, but seriously, what the fuck?” His eyes are wide, disbelief etched into his exhausted expression.

I flash him a smirk and continue to rub small circles on Theo’s back. “No offense,” I mock. “But you look like shit. Go take a shower and a nap.”

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