Page 40 of Second Shot

Maybe this won’t be the worst decision I’ve evermade.

Or maybe I’m walking into a trap where I’ll be lucky to get out with a shred of my heartleft.

Either way, I know my decision was made way before I even walked in thedoor.

Chapter 11

Kane

I’ve always beenan early riser. You get used to waking up before the rest of the world when you play competitivehockey.

But today, it isn’t the rush of the game that wakesme.

It’s my son’s babbling from the room down thehall.

Myson.

The sky is still dark as I roll out of bed, then make my way towards his newroom.

I heard Brynne up most of the night, pacing the halls, the creak of the bed as she tossed and turned. I’d laid there, listening to her sounds, her frustrated breaths and sighs, wanting nothing more than to go into her room, pick her up, and carry her back to mybed.

“Hey, buddy,” I say, glancing down at Noah, who smiles when he looks up at me, arms waving frantically, making more gurgling sounds. “How about we let your mamasleep?”

I pick him up and carry him over to the change table, wincing when I look at the stack of diapers and wipes. I’ve never changed a diaper in my life. But how hard can itbe?

Ten minutes and four failed attempts later, I realize that the bastard who created the damn things must have been a sadist, because every time I pick Noah up, the damn thing fallsoff.

Noah giggles, pulling his tiny foot to his mouth and gnawing on histoes.

“You think this isfunny?”

He laughs again, and Igrunt.

“This will have to do.” I pray that I’ve got the damn thing on right. But getting his pajamas back on proves even more difficult. Mostly because I’m afraid of bending his little limbs in the wrong direction, and secondly because every time I try to stick his foot in one leg of the outfit, he kicks his other footout.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’tyou?”

He kicks his legs again, eyes wide and excited like it’s all a game tohim.

I chuckle. “Okay, nopajamas.”

Brynne will probably give me an earful when she wakes up, but the apartment is warm, and there’s no chance of him catching achill.

“So, what next?” I pick him up. His head rested in the crook of my arm, I cradle him like a football against my chest, my heart swelling when the kid looks up at me with those big blue eyes. “I’m thinking you’re probablyhungry.”

There are bottles in the fridge. I heat one up, while still holding Noah. I watched Brynne do it last night. She made it seem easy. Holding the kid in one arm, while doing everything else with theother.

But when I spill the first bottle as I try to test the temperature on my wrist, I start to wonder if she doesn’t have superhumanabilities.

Noah whimpers, getting restless in myarms.

“Hold on, buddy. It’scoming.”

I have better luck with the secondbottle.

By the time I sit down on the couch to feed him, the soft glow of the sun is stretching across thecity.

I place my feet up on the coffee table as Noah sucks back the bottle, his gaze locked on mine like he’s studyingme.

---