Page 142 of False Start

If this was, say… a week-long job, I was in some serious trouble. Plus, I was not going to wait a week to see that baby.

I finished out my shift, ready to go home, but my phone rang instead, and thank fuck this time I knew the number.

Jackson.

“They’re ready.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’ve even got them all packaged up for you in their own box and ready to go.”

A half hour later, he handed me a bag with a custom-built pair of black skates just like Priest’s, with little red leather flames affixed to each side.

“If he doesn’t come back here and scoop you right up,” he said, holding my car door for me, “I’m going to go down to Boston and kick him in the balls for you.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” I said, kissing him on the cheek before firing up my car and heading out to the farm.

I parked next to Lilith’s SUV, grabbed the bag, and headed for the door, but hesitated when I got there. I’d always knocked when we used the bathroom during practice because this was another woman’s house and it felt disrespectful not to.

But I’d helped Lilith through childbirth here.

I’d done laundry.

I saved a quilt.

Read from a well-loved book in the easy chair by their grandfather’s lamp.

I’d started to let Cain go here even as I held on to him while we made love all night in his bed.

Fresh tears burned in the back of my eyes and I froze, unable to knock, unable to walk away, so damn heartbroken it choked me as I stood staring at the supply sled propped against the wall on the porch.

The door crept open and Lilith gave me a sad smile and opened her arms…where I fell apart again.

“Aww, honey, you haven’t heard from him?”

“No,” I mumbled against the burp rag over her shoulder. “Have you?”

“Just once,” she said quietly.

“Did he ask about me?” I said, pulling back and wiping my eyes.

She didn’t have to answer; the look on her face said it all with the way her mouth flattened, and the frustration flashed in brown eyes so very much like his. “No.”

“Okay.” There was that word he hated, but fuck him. If he wanted to take issue with it, he could just get his ass up here and do so.

Lilith tipped her head and smiled. “Do you want to hold a freshly bathed squishy bundle of baby?” She took a step back and held the door.

“Yeah, I think I do,” I said, stepping inside. “I even brought him something.”

She led me into the living room where a large man with short-cropped, military-issued sandy hair I could only assume was Jordan sat with a sleepy satisfied smile on his face while he held their son in his arms.

The bundle of baby had a scrunched-up face like he’d just caught a whiff of some geriatric-grade methane.

“Jordan, this is Maisy. Maisy, my husband Jordan.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” I murmured, handing the bag to Lilith as I snuck a closer glance at their sleeping bundle.

“I don’t even know his name. What are we calling this little cutie?”

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