Page 38 of Shootout Daddies
Hunter watches, arms folded. “How do you know how to do that?”
“I helped with Brooke’s twins,” I say.
“Still. You’re good at this.”
I shrug. “Babies like rhythm. They like voices they know.”
They exchange a look. I pretend not to see it.
Chloe finally falls asleep. I lay her down and collapse onto the couch.
Rhett leans over the backrest. “You’re a magician.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re staying, right?” Hunter asks.
“Just one night,” I tell them. “Just to help you adjust.”
I check the time on my phone. It’s only four in the morning. She has been sniffling and crying for the last hour.
At least I finally managed to get her to quiet down.
Chloe lets out a small sigh, and I shift her upright against my chest, gently patting her back. Her onesie smells like Dreft and the last bottle I fed her, her tiny body radiating that warm, sleepy heat babies seem to give off like sunlight.
I adjust the blanket over her legs and keep patting, the way I’ve done for hours now. It took most of the night to get her to sleep.
A quiet burp rises from her lips, and I smile, rubbing small circles along her spine.
The penthouse is quiet in the way that only 4 a.m. allows. The city is dim beyond the windows. The dishwasher hums in the kitchen. Storm is curled on the rug, ears twitching in his sleep.
Every light is off except the small lamp I left glowing beside the couch.
I think I might finally get to lay her down.
Then I hear soft footsteps behind me.
“Hey,” Hunter says, voice raspy with sleep or lack of it.
I glance over my shoulder. He’s in sweatpants and a tee that clings a little too well to his chest, hair pushed back like he gave up trying to tame it. He scratches at the edge of his jaw and drops onto the armchair across from me.
“You okay?” I whisper.
He nods, eyes on Chloe. “Yeah. Just… couldn’t sleep.”
“She finally passed out,” I murmur, repositioning her slightly before laying her in the bouncer on the couch. She stirs for a second, then settles again, thumb drifting toward her mouth.
Hunter’s eyes stay on her. “How the hell did we get here?”
I lift my brows. “You tell me.”
“We really don’t know.” He exhales. “That girl said she had an IUD. We trusted that. We never thought… fuck! This is so messed up.”
I glance at him.
He lifts a hand, already reading my look. “We got tested before anything ever happened with you. Full panel. Clean.”
“I appreciate the reassurance,” I say softly, pulling my knees up onto the couch. “Still doesn’t explain a baby showing up at your door.”
