Page 38 of Knot Your Baby

“Oh.” My stomach sinks, a hollow feeling expanding inside me. Of course, he’s not here because of me. He’s here because of his scars. The doctor’s office suddenly makes perfect sense. I shouldn’t have interrupted his private moment. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“How’s Stone doing?” He lifts his shirt collar before he leans his head out his window, craning his neck as he stares toward my passenger seat where the baby sleeps peacefully, tiny fists curled against his chest.

“Fantastic, actually. He’s so good, and he slept through the night these past two nights.” I can’t help the pride that seeps into my voice. “I finally feel human again instead of some sleep-deprived zombie.”

His smile lights up his entire face, transforming his features. The scars that mark his skin seem to fade when he beams like that. “That is great.”

“Won’t last though, I’m sure it’s not normal for one week old babies to sleep so much at night. They save it for your waking hours.” I tap my fingers nervously on the steering wheel, creating a soft rhythm against the leather. “Babies are tricky that way.”

“You obviously have a good baby.”

I smile and nod. “Well, see you around.” I resist the urge to linger, even though something in me wants to stay.

“Where are you headed now?” he asks.

My pulse quickens.Don’t read into it, Freya. He’s just being nice. “The park. Trying to get some exercise, you know. Get rid of this baby weight.” I gesture vaguely at my midsection, immediately regretting drawing attention to it.

A low growl rumbles from his chest. “You’re perfect.”

Slick floods between my legs at the sound, and my thighs clench involuntarily.

Our eyes meet. The reaction is so primal, so immediate, that I have to grip the steering wheel tighter to ground myself. His scent of strawberry, lime, and tequila intensifies around me.

Beside me, Harlow cannot suppress her snicker, her turquoise eyes dancing with amusement as she turns to me.

“Bye,” I squeak out, hitting the gas maybe a little too hard. The tires slip slightly against the ground as we pull away.

“Oh my god.” Harlow fans herself as we exit the lot. “He is gorgeous. But young.” She tucks a strand of dark hair behind herear. Her head tilts as she watches him through the side mirror. “Just how old is he?”

“Twenty-one,” I murmur. The number makes me shiver the moment it leaves my lips.

“Twenty-one,” she repeats as she checks her side mirror. “Wow.”

“Is he too young for me to be thinking about him as much as I do?” I ask, chewing my bottom lip. Seven years isn’t that much when you’re in your thirties, and without babies to think about.

“You want him!” She punches my arm playfully. “And I think he wants you too.”

“There is no way that he looks at me with anything but concern or because he is worried that I’m not a decent mother.”

“Well. Keep driving as normal when I tell you this, because he’s following you.”

Chapter 11

Zane

I can’t sleep.

Nothing new there. It’s my life. Always has been.

This has been my reality for two years now—ever since the accident—when my life nearly slipped away for good.

Night after night, I stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks as if they hold the answers to my restless mind. That’s why I prefer working the night-shift. Only then does the darkness wrap around me like a comforting blanket and not mock me like it does when I’m in my bed.

It’s bizarre, but it’s when I’m working, when I can almost forget the haunting memories of flames devouring walls, the acrid smoke that filled my lungs, and suffocating me until I thought I would never breathe again.

Those memories only fade when I’m focused on keeping others safe, when I can shift my attention away from my own fears and channel it into something that matters—into savinglives. In those moments, I find a sense of purpose, and it gives me a brief reprieve from the scars that leave me the constant memory of that night.

But I haven’t been working nights this past week.

---