Page 1 of SEAL's Doorstep Baby

Chapter one

JACOB

Iam aware of a sound but its meaning doesn’t register through the whirling rush of emotion inside my head. It’s like a tunnel, a waterfall, a crash—a crash like Emily’s—the kind that rips through everything, like cars plowing into the sides of buildings.

I blink.

The doorbell is ringing.

Standing up is a Herculean effort. I’ve done hard things in my life. Impossible things—things that took years of training, relentless discipline, and the full encouragement of the U.S. Navy just to get me to consider doing them. Still, standing up to answer the doorbell after learning my little sister has died is the hardest thing I’ve done in my entire life.

I move as best I can. If I hadn’t spent the last decade of my life as a navy SEAL, I don’t think I would have been able to. Thankfully, my body is trained to work under immense pressure, with or without functioning mental faculties.

I swing open the door, too numb to care about who is on the other side. All I know is that it won’t be Emily.

It’ll never be Emily again.

On the other side of my front door, Allison Smith is there, holding a baby.

From the look on her face, Allison has clearly heard about Emily’s death. A small, not entirely numb part of my brain wonders who the hell told her. I didn’t ask many questions of the police officers who arrived at my door earlier this morning, but as Emily’s only next of kin, I assumed it would fall on me to tell people.

People like Allison, who is—or was—my sister’s best friend.

I stare at her for a few seconds. My mind splutters, trying to think of what I should say.

I finally land on, “Hey.”

Allison shifts the baby in her arms. My eyes are drawn instantly to the baby’s wide, curious eyes.

“I didn’t know you had a kid.” I say.

Allison’s jaw tightens. “You don’t know a lot about me. How long has it been? Nine, ten years?”

If it was yesterday, the look in her eyes might make me feel badly about how we ended—and how we started. Both of us only just adults—me the night before shipping out, Allie the night before college started. Both of us afraid but too proud to admit it—the way I snuck out, and the fact she never called…

But it’s not yesterday. So I just raise my brow.

Allison huffs. She cuts her eyes away, and I watch how they fill with tears. Through the haze of my own whirling mind, I feel a bit bad.

“You heard about Emily?” I murmur.

Allison closes her eyes. She nods a little, her chin jutting out. “I got your address from her. It’s on a postcard you sent. On the fridge.”

This stings me for some reason I can’t explain.

She doesn’t say anything else. In her arms, the baby gurgles.

“Is that why you’re here?” I continue, tearing my eyes away from the kid.

Allison’s expression shifts. It forms again and again, not quite landing on an emotion I can read myself. I fight back a wave of irritation. I know how close Emily and Allison are—were. How close they were.

But she’s not family. I don’t have any family, not anymore. And I am not interested in helping someone else grieve right now.

“No,” she says eventually, clearly reluctant.

I lose my battle to not be annoyed. “Then can you get to the point? I’ve got a funeral to plan, you know.”

Allison recoils like she’s been hit. I scowl. She scowls right back.

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