Page 214 of The Catalyst

And, to no one’s surprise, his face scrunches up, and he wails, wiggling about in the basket like he’s trying to throw himself out of it to do whatever he wants himself.

“What?” I growl as I walk over to the bassinet and lean down to him. He was fed not that long ago, so it can’t be hunger. His diaper is clean, so it’s not that either. I try putting his pacifier in his mouth, like the doula instructed, but he spits it out and continues to cry. “I swear, if you wake up your mother after the ordeal you put her through, I will slaughter you like a lamb. Got it?” Then, he screams louder, and I try to calm myself down. It’s a fucking baby. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

I pick him up under his arms, using my fingers to prop up his head, and he instantly stops crying. Well, that was anticlimactic. I move to lay him back down, but he starts screaming again. We do this rodeo for five cycles before I carry him with me over to the couch and awkwardly lay him down on my chest. Suddenly, he goes silent, pressing his face into my bare skin.

Then, it clicks. He was screaming because he wanted human contact. It’s such a simple thing everyone craves. This crotch goblin wants it in the most innocent way. His fingers splay on my chest, and he coos again, looking up at me.

“You’re a pain in the ass, vagina nugget.”

He gives me the look I’ve seen on his mother’s face time and time again, one that says I’m being ridiculous.

“Hey. You’re supposed to side with me. Bros before hoes and all that bullshit.”

My son’s sour face morphs into a toothless smile, and I wonder if it’s a real smile or if the tiny thing just shit his pants, but there’s no foul odor.

The realization dawns on me that I was just arguing with a newborn based on his facial expressions. I must be losing it from sleep deprivation.

“As long as you don’t cry, we’ll be good,” I grumble under my breath and reach for the remote, but I’m caught off guard by the kid yawning before cooing, snuggling against me like he did to his mother right after he was born. He didn’t do that to Vera or Judy. Just us. Maybe he recognizes my voice from all the times I talked to him mid-gestation, and it brings him comfort. Maybe he has some intuition that tells him I’m his…dad.

His eyes close, and I throw the blanket from the back of the couch over us. I wouldn’t dare risk waking him by moving him to the basket. We’re fine like this.

I trail circles on his back with my callused fingers, and he seems to fall deeper into a restful slumber.

I was never supposed to be someone’s dad. I’ve never liked kids, and it was best to keep them far away from me. Then, Beth came in like a wrecking ball and screwed all that up. I know her pregnancy wasn’t all on her. I shoulder some of the blame as well. This little thing sleeping on my chest created a lot of complications neither of us needed. I bet Nolan Gray would’ve locked her up in that big house if this semen demon hadn’t put a wrench in our plans. She’ll have to go back soon. We both will, and our son will have to stay behind with Judy and Vera. I know that is going to tear her to shreds, but this is what we’ve been working towards.

Our finish line.

The dropping of the red flag to signal we won.

We beat Nolan at his own game.

No matter how many odds were against him, Rian was born happy and healthy but still in danger. That’s why no one can know the truth.

No matter how much I don’t like kids, I protect them, and I’ll protect him even more fiercely. It’s illogical, and yet it’s true. Rian is my son, my blood, equal parts me and my crazy girl, and I’d burn the world down to make sure he keeps sleeping as peacefully as he is right now. The only issue is I’d have to spill ninety percent of the blood in Grove Hill for that to be possible.

I gaze down at him, and the protectiveness vibrates within me. “You’re kinda cute,” I mutter, stroking his short black curls. The hair on his head is longer than an average newborn, but it’s enough that he has a handful of locks on the back of his head. It’s the softest hair I’ve ever felt. Is this the way every baby’s hair feels?

Something strange swarms in my chest while I watch him, and moisture pricks behind my eyelids. I can’t remember the last time I cried, but I feel it forcing its way up my throat. All it takes is staring at him and knowing I have to let him go.

We have to leave him behind. Maybe we don’t. It’s really nice here, and Vera did say she likes having us around, but if we stayed and never returned to Grove Hill, the people we left behind would pay the price. We’re in this for the long haul. Our hands are tied until Beth can wash her hands of Nolan for good. Then, we’ll be a family again.

“Your mother loves you. You know that, nugget?” Rian moans in his sleep before digging his tiny dagger nails into my chest. It stings, but I don’t mind. We’re both calm. “She’d stay with you forever if she could.” Suddenly, the muscles in his face tighten, and the start of a cry falls from his lips. “Don’t be such a pussy. You’ll be fine.” Like that, he relaxes back against me, and I chuckle. “I’ll be around. I know I’m not much. I mean, I’m a documented psychopath. I don’t know how to be a dad. I lost mine too young to really know how this whole relationship is supposed to work. You’ll have to help me out with that, whether you like it or not. I’m all you’ve got. The only blood family you have is me, your mom, and our mothers. That’s a tiny group, and outside of you and me, they’re all women. We’re the only ones with dick, so…there’s that.”

Well, this is awkward. Here I am, talking to a sleeping baby like he can actually understand me in his unconscious state. I’m fucking losing it.

But there’s one thing for sure. I would die for this little guy and his mother and parish with a happy smile.

CHAPTER 86

BETH

Iwake to what is by far the most adorable sight I’ve ever seen. When I walked out to the living room, Ollie was passed out on the couch with Rian lying on his chest, but our son was awake, starting to softly grunt with discomfort.

Snickering under my breath, I make my way over and carefully lift Rian off Ollie’s chest and pull him into mine, shushing the bundle of love. “Shhh,” I whisper before checking his nappy, which is wet. I quickly change his bottoms before getting him situated for a feeding. It’s almost second nature for me to plop down in the recliner next to the couch and breastfeed my son. I do feel a little uncomfortable not covering up, so I grab the burping cloth and cover us with it. Almost immediately, he settles. It feels so weird to have him feeding from me, especially with how tender my boobs became during the short nap I took. I wince when he presses down on the side, but I don’t stop him. He probably knows what he’s doing more than I do.

Ollie groans in his sleep before he gently pats his chest, and I watch him gasp in panic, suddenly sitting up.

“Relax, Papa Bear,” I tease.

---