Page 20 of The Secrets We Built Together

"I think we need to call the police," Delaney said quietly, crouching down beside her friend as she reached for her hand. "This isn't as simple as just finding a baby and deciding to keep it. If that's what you're thinking you want to happen."

Blake looked up at her, her face was completely blank of expression and I started to question my presence in this situation. I'd done my part. I'd checked over the kid and she was fine. But as my heart screamed that I wanted to help her, that I wanted to take that frightened look out of her eyes, my head was telling me to run as fast as I could.

I came with so much baggage. So many problems. And Blake was currently facing a life changing event.

I took a step back, easing myself out of the situation unfolding in front of me. This was for the best. I was saving her really.

"Maybe we give her the day?" Trace suggested, stepping forward to fill the gap I'd left. "She might change her mind and come back for Amelia."

The little lady in question gurgled and I smiled at the sound before I could even stop myself. I also might have forgotten that I was still holding a towel against my chest where I was covered in spit up. The wet fabric clung to my skin uncomfortably, and a sour smell floated up to my nostrils.

But I didn’t get very far in my escape as my back collided with Booker. His hand came down on my shoulder and it felt far too much like he was trying to hold me in place, than any kind of supporting touch.

"Maybe we should call the police anyway," Booker said. "You can't just go around abandoning babies, we need to think about the kid and what's best for her."

I needed to get out of here.

"Well." I cleared my throat and stepped to the side, trying to avoid Booker and Reece who had apparently decided to block my way to the exit. "If that's all you need me for I should probably be going. You've got a lot to think about and we should get out of your way."

Reece looked at me strangely but then an expression of surprise crossed her face as she quickly glanced at Blake and then grinned at me.

"Xander's right," she said, still smiling. "We should get out of your hair so you can talk this through. If there's anything you need. Any supplies you need us to run out and get, don't hesitate to call."

Reece grabbed a confused looking Booker by the hand and tugged on it as she turned and started to walk toward the door before anyone could respond.

I should have followed. It was what I'd wanted after all. But now that the way was clear, I was frozen in the spot I was standing, an uncertainty washing over me. Leaving suddenly felt wrong.

"Thank you," Blake whispered before she looked up and locked eyes with me. "Thank you for coming when I needed you."

Something passed between us in that moment. It hit me so hard that I couldn't believe she didn't feel it too.

Because I would always come if she called.

And that realization was more than I could deal with.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Seeing her wasn't supposed to feel like coming home. I came to Willowbrook to start again, but to start againalone.

Why did she have to be here and make everything so much more complicated?

And why did it feel so wrong to walk away?

I had one foot out the door when Trace's voice stopped me.

"Xander, wait. You can't leave like that. Your shirt's covered in baby puke."

I glanced down at the wet stain spreading across my chest, the sour smell already starting to get to me. "It'll be fine. I'll just change when I get home."

"Home is twenty minutes away," Trace said, shaking his head. "I've got plenty of shirts. Come on. You can't ride in Booker's truck smelling like that."

Booker, who was already halfway down the porch steps, turned back with a grimace. "He's right. You're not stinking up my truck with eau de baby spit."

"Fine," I conceded, more because I didn't have the energy to argue than anything else.

I followed Trace up the stairs, and more importantly, away from the living room where Blake remained with the baby. A part of me was relieved for the excuse to stay a little longer, though I'd never admit it out loud. Trace led me to the master bedroom and disappeared into a walk-in closet.

"Here," he said, tossing me a plain gray t-shirt. "Nothing fancy, but it's clean."

"Thanks," I said, setting it on the bed. I turned away from him and pulled my soiled shirt over my head, balling it up in my hands.

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