Page 18 of The Secrets We Built Together

Reece yipped and quickly darted out of the bedroom before I even realized that I'd fallen asleep naked last night.

"Stop flapping that around in front of my girl," Booker snapped.

I grinned at him. "Worried she might see something she likes," I asked as I pulled on some jeans and grabbed the shirt I'd worn yesterday.

He scoffed confidently. "Not on you, little brother."

"Rude! Remind me why I put up with you again?"

"Because I let you live in my cottage for free and we all know I'm the best brother."

I opened my mouth to object and then slowly closed it again, refusing to acknowledge why.

Booker really was the best of us, and he wasn't one to normally admit something like that either. Reece was good for him. He'd changed so much since he met her and it was all for the better. Hell, even looking at Trace now I could see the difference.

Maybe they were on to something. Having someone in your life who made it worthwhile to be the best version of yourself didn't seem like such a bad thing.

I just didn't know if I deserved to find happiness on a level like that.

That thought rattled around my brain as I gathered what I needed and headed out to Booker’s truck. It was the one that distracted me for the entire ride to Trace and Delaney’s place. But then I firmly pushed it to the side as the farmhouse came into sight, just like I’d been taught to do.

I was out of the truck and jogging up the porch steps before Booker had even got the thing in park.

This was where I excelled. A calm head in the storm. It was why medicine had been the obvious route for me.

I didn't even knock as I threw open the front door and strode into Trace and Delaney's house.

The sight that met me had me stumbling to a stop.

There were piercing screams coming from a bundle of pink blankets that Blake now clutched as she stared at it with wide desperate eyes.

Her head snapped up at the sound of the door opening and she locked eyes with me. I felt that same familiar tug in my chest that I always did when she looked at me.

The single tear that slipped down her cheek had a need swelling inside me to wrap her in my arms and tell her it was all going to be okay. And just like every other time it had happened, I squashed it down as hard as I could.

Blake wasn't meant for a man like me. She deserved so much more. So I sank back into my usual demeanor and pushed every bit of emotion to the side, refusing to acknowledge the feelings that had the capacity to change my life forever.

"Pass her to me," I said, my voice clipped and clinical. I reached out and took the child from Blake's arms without waiting for a response.

Blake visibly flinched at my tone, her eyes narrowing slightly before she relinquished the baby.

"I've been trying to calm her for twenty minutes," she said defensively. "I'm not completely helpless."

I ignored her comment and focused on the infant. The little girl reached up, hands gripped into fists as she let out another ear-splitting cry. I immediately shifted her into a proper examination position, my fingers checking her fontanelle and then running along her spine with practiced precision.

"Where did she come from? How long has she been like this?" I asked, not looking up.

I knew the protocol in this situation. I’d seen this exact situation at the hospital more times than I cared to remember. But this wasn’t the hospital. I wasn’t here in any official capacity. And this wasBlake.This was exactly what I was trying to avoid. What I was trying to protect myself from.

"We found her this morning. On the doorstep. I don’t… I don’t know how long she was there." Blake rushed out. "We tried everything. She won't eat, she's dry. I tried to burp her..."

And then the whole story poured out of her. Her sisters visit, finding the baby, the letter.

"Blake." I took a moment to look at her, hating the way that my eyes grazed across her face, taking in every detail while she was standing close enough to me that I could feel her soft breath against my cheek. "Let me handle this. You might be making her more anxious."

She stiffened, crossing her arms. "I'm not making her anxious. I've been holding her since we found her."

"And how's that been working out?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.

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