Broad Shoulders (The Perfect Man #3)

4. Alana

4

ALANA

E ver since I became a mom, I live for the moment my shift ends at the bar. I love my job, but nothing compares to walking into Kai’s nursery, leaning over his crib, and watching his little chest rise and fall in peaceful slumber. That quiet moment reminds me that despite never planning this life, I was meant to be his mother.

Tonight, I wipe down the bar with more urgency than usual, glancing at the clock every few minutes. I tell myself this is normal anxiety, the standard worry when leaving your baby with someone new. But there’s nothing standard about leaving your two-month-old with the father he just met.

“Everything okay?” Pualani asks, stacking clean glasses behind the bar.

“Fine.” I force my attention back to a waiting customer. “Just the usual mom stuff.”

What I don’t say is how unsettling it felt to watch Jackson hold our son this afternoon—his large hands so gentle, his expression a mixture of awe and determination. How the sight of them together created a complicated ache in my chest.

The last hour of my shift drags by in slow motion. When closing time finally arrives, I call a hasty goodbye to Pualani and push through the door into the warm night air.

The walk home usually helps me decompress, transitioning from bartender back to mom. Tonight, my pace is quicker, my mind racing ahead to what I might find. Did Kai wake up crying? Did Jackson figure out how to soothe him? What if Kai refused the bottle?

I gave Jackson detailed instructions before I left, showing him where everything was, walking him through Kai’s bedtime routine. He listened intently, his eyes serious as he took mental notes. But instructions can only prepare you so much when you’ve never taken care of a baby before.

The lights are on in my little beach house when I arrive. I fumble with my keys, barely able to get the door unlocked fast enough.

Inside, the living room looks like a baby supply store exploded. Blankets, toys, and burp cloths are scattered across every surface. An empty bottle sits on the coffee table next to a half-eaten sandwich. The diaper bag has been completely unpacked, its contents spread out.

And there, in the center of it all, is Jackson himself. He’s sitting upright on my couch, head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. Fast asleep.

I can’t help but smile at the sight. Jackson King, former baseball superstar, defeated by one tiny baby.

I step around the mess and move silently into Kai’s nursery. The soft nightlight casts a gentle glow as I approach the crib. Kai lies on his back, arms flung outward like he’s a starfish, his chest rising and falling with each breath. I lean over and gently kiss his forehead, inhaling his sweet baby scent.

“You wore Daddy out, didn’t you?” I whisper.

The word Daddy feels strange on my tongue, a reality I’m still adjusting to. I’d fully accepted that I’d be raising Kai alone. Now Jackson is here, wanting to be involved, and everything is upside down.

I return to the living room, my eyes drawn back to Jackson. His tall, muscular body looks almost comical on my modest couch, his broad shoulders gigantic against the cushions. His face looks younger in sleep, the worry lines around his eyes smoothed out. I remember how he looked at me yesterday at the bar—hope and longing so clear in his expression before I dropped my bombshell.

I came to see you. His words echo in my head. After a year of convincing myself our four nights together were meaningless, it’s hard to process that they clearly meant something more to him.

The truth I’ve been avoiding slips through my defenses: they meant something to me, too. Something I buried beneath the overwhelming reality of unexpected motherhood.

“Jackson,” I say softly, hoping to wake him without startling him.

He doesn’t stir.

“Jackson,” I repeat, a little louder.

Still nothing. This man sleeps like the dead.

I bite my lip, then reach out and touch his shoulder. The instant my fingers make contact with the solid muscle there, a jolt of awareness runs through me. My body remembers him—his touch, his warmth. The way he filled me over and over again.

“Jackson,” I say again, my voice unsteady.

He stirs, turning his face toward my hand. In his half-asleep state, he nuzzles his cheek against my arm, the stubble on his jaw creating a delicious friction against my skin.

I inhale sharply and pull my hand away. The contact breaks whatever dream held him, and his eyes flutter open.

“Alana?” He blinks, disoriented. Then clarity rushes back. “Is Kai okay?”

That immediate concern for our son sends an unexpected wave of warmth through me.

“He’s fine,” I say with a smile. “Sleeping peacefully.”

Jackson rubs a hand over his face and sits up straighter. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was just going to rest my eyes for a minute.”

“It’s okay. Taking care of a baby is exhausting.”

He looks around, seeming to notice the disaster zone for the first time. “Wow. I should clean this up.”

He rises to his full height, and I’m reminded again of just how big he is. Well over six feet of solid muscle, he makes my small living room feel even smaller. He starts gathering up blankets and toys, his movements still a little clumsy with sleep.

I join him, picking up the scattered contents of the diaper bag. “So how did it go?”

“Good. I think.” He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “He cried for a bit after you left, but I figured out he just wanted to be held and walked around. Then he took the bottle no problem.”

“You got him to sleep in the crib?”

“Eventually. I read him a bunch of books first.” Jackson smiles sheepishly. “I know babies can’t understand stories yet, but he seemed to like the sound of my voice.”

The image of Jackson reading to our son makes my heart do a dangerous flip.

“How was your shift?” he asks, folding a baby blanket with surprising care.

“Same as always. Nothing exciting.” I don’t tell him how distracted I was all night, how I checked my phone constantly, how every minute felt like an hour. “Thank you for watching Kai. It was nice to give my mom the night off.”

“I’m sure she deserves a break,” Jackson replies before yawning widely. “Sorry.”

I laugh softly. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m okay.” He stifles another yawn. “I’d love to watch him again tomorrow night, if that works for you.”

“Only if you get some sleep between now and then,” I tease gently. “Babies can smell weakness.”

He chuckles. “I will. Promise.” He glances at his watch. “I should go.”

As he moves toward the door, he turns back. “I’m looking at a few rentals tomorrow afternoon. There’s a place on Makai Road and another on Pu’uwai Lane. Any thoughts?”

The realization hits me anew. He’s really staying. He came back for me, found out about Kai, and he’s still not leaving.

“Makai Road is nice,” I say. “Close to the beach. Pu’uwai Lane gets pretty touristy during peak season.”

Jackson nods, taking in the information. “Maybe you could come with me and give me your opinion? I could use your guidance.”

I should say no. I should maintain the distance I established yesterday. But the hopeful look in his eyes makes my resolve waver.

“What time?” I ask.

We look at three properties in quick succession, taking my car since it’s equipped with Kai’s car seat. The first property is perfectly located near a secluded beach, but black mold creeps up the exterior walls. The second property has beautiful mountain views and modern appliances, but the water pressure is so weak that the shower barely trickles. The third house seems promising until we walk in and the smell of cigarette smoke hits us.

“Paint won’t get rid of that,” I murmur to Jackson as Kai starts to fuss, probably from the smell. “It’s in the carpet, the curtains, everything.”

After checking out one more bungalow, Jackson suggests calling it a day. He looks discouraged, his shoulders a little slumped as we walk back to my car.

“Don’t worry,” I find myself saying. “You’ll find a place. The rental market moves quickly here. New places come up all the time.”

I’m surprised by my own encouragement. I’m still not sure how I feel about Jackson making long-term plans to stay on the island. It’s wonderful watching him with Kai. But having Jackson around permanently feels complicated in ways I haven’t fully processed.

“Want to grab coffee or something before heading back?” he asks as I buckle Kai into his car seat.

I hesitate, my instinct to maintain distance warring with my desire to give Kai more time with his father.

“Sure,” I hear myself say. “I know a good place not far from here.”

I drive us to one of my favorite local spots—an outdoor café nestled among flowering trees just off the main road. We have to park a little distance away, but the walk is pleasant.

The café is busy with its usual mix of locals and in-the-know tourists. We find a table under a giant plumeria tree, its sweet fragrance filling the air. I order a fresh fruit smoothie and Jackson gets an iced coffee with coconut milk.

Kai sits somewhat precariously on Jackson’s lap. I watch as Jackson tries to find a comfortable way to hold him, his large hands still awkward but determined as he supports Kai’s wobbly head and back. He’s trying so hard, and there’s something endearing about his careful concentration.

“Kai’s so lucky,” Jackson says, looking out at the lush landscape surrounding us. “Growing up in a place like this. Must be paradise for a kid.”

I smile, following his gaze. “It is. When I was growing up, I practically lived outside—swimming, hiking, building forts in the jungle behind my house.”

“You were a little wild child, huh?”

“Definitely. My friends and I used to sneak out at night and go cliff jumping at this spot only locals knew about. Drove my mom crazy.”

Jackson grins. “I can just picture you, a fearless island girl leaping into the ocean.”

I laugh. “You say that like you never did anything like that as a kid.”

He takes a sip of his iced coffee. “I was a different kind of trouble. We moved around a lot, which meant I was always the new kid. I got into fights, skipped school. Baseball straightened me out, though. It’s harder to rebel when you’re practicing for hours a day.”

“Is that how you got so good at it? All that practice?”

“Partly. I was also terrified of disappointing my coach. First adult who really believed in me.”

Kai drops his pacifier, and we both reach for it at the same time. Our fingers brush, and I pull back quickly, startled by how much that fleeting touch affects me. Jackson picks up the pacifier and sets it aside on a napkin.

“So what else did little Alana get up to on this island?” he asks, adjusting Kai, who’s starting to squirm.

I tell him about the time my friends and I “borrowed” a hotel’s paddleboard and accidentally drifted too far out, how a kindly fisherman had to bring us back to shore. I share memories of island festivals, secret beaches, and the ancient sacred sites my grandfather used to take me to.

Realizing I’ve been talking too much about myself, I steer the conversation back to him. “Tell me more about your time with the Stallions. What was one of your favorite moments?”

His face lights up as he describes the feeling of hitting a walk-off home run in the playoffs, the electricity of the crowd, the weightlessness rounding the bases. As he speaks, his love for the game radiates from him.

“Do you miss it?” I ask.

“Parts of it,” he says, his expression thoughtful. “The camaraderie, the competition. But not the constant travel or the pressure. It gets exhausting living out of suitcases, never having roots.”

As we talk, I find myself sharing stories I don’t often tell—about growing up surrounded by ocean and mountains, about my grandfather teaching me to swim. Jackson tells me about his rookie season, his first World Series, his parents.

Jackson shifts in his seat as he talks, the movement causing his arm muscles to flex beneath his t-shirt. Suddenly, I’m hit with a vivid memory from our time together a year ago—his powerful body moving over mine, his hands gripping my hips as he thrust inside me. I remember being pressed against the wet tile of his hotel shower, his chest hot against my back as he took me from behind. And the way he lifted me against the bathroom vanity, my legs wrapped around his waist as he drove into me again and again.

Heat floods my face and between my legs. I take a long sip of my smoothie, trying to cool down and regain my composure. The last thing I need right now is to be thinking about sex with Jackson while we’re sitting in a public café with our baby.

“You okay?” Jackson asks, noticing my sudden silence.

“Fine,” I say quickly. “Just remembered something I need to do later.”

Kai starts to fuss, saving me from further explanation. We finish our drinks, pack up our things, and head back toward the car. We’re about halfway there when the sky darkens dramatically.

“Is that…?” Jackson starts to ask.

Before he can finish, rain begins pouring down in sheets, a downpour appearing out of nowhere. We dash for cover under the broad leaves of the nearest tree, but we’re already soaked. Kai, startled by the sudden drenching, begins to cry.

“Poor little guy,” Jackson says, trying to shield him from the rain finding its way through the leaves.

I dig through the diaper bag for a dry blanket. “Here, we can wrap him in this.”

We huddle close together, both focused on soothing our dripping wet baby. Jackson gently wipes Kai’s face while I wrap the blanket snugly around him. Sandwiched between us, Kai looks up with wide, confused eyes, glancing from my face to Jackson’s and back again.

Then something magical happens. His crying stops abruptly, and his tiny face breaks into the biggest, gummiest smile I’ve ever seen him make—a full-face, eye-crinkling grin of pure delight.

Jackson and I both burst into laughter at the unexpected reaction.

“Look at that smile!” Jackson exclaims.

“I’ve never seen him smile like that before,” I say, my heart swelling.

Our eyes meet over Kai’s head, and something electric passes between us. Jackson’s gaze drops briefly to my lips, and my heart races. We’re standing so close I can see the water droplets clinging to his eyelashes, can feel the heat radiating from his body despite our wet clothes. I find myself leaning into him, drawn by a pull I can’t resist.

The moment pulses, brimming with possibility. I know I should back away, maintain the boundaries I’ve set. But, goddamn it, I want him to kiss me.

As suddenly as it started, the rain stops, leaving only the steady drip from the leaves above us. Like that, the spell breaks.

Jackson looks up at the sky cautiously. “Is that it? Or is there more coming?”

“Probably done for now,” I say, my pulse still racing. “These downpours usually pass quickly.”

“Whoa,” Jackson says, pointing toward the horizon. “Look at that.”

A massive rainbow arcs across the sky, its colors vibrant against the dark clouds retreating toward the mountains.

“That’s incredible,” he breathes, genuine awe in his voice.

I can’t help but laugh at his reaction. “Haven’t you ever seen a rainbow before?”

“Of course I have. But not like that. It’s huge. Is that normal here?”

“Pretty much. Hawaii does everything bigger when it comes to natural beauty.”

We step out from under the tree and begin walking toward the car again. I glance back over my shoulder at the rainbow.

Maybe Jackson is right after all. Because now that I’m really looking at it, it might just be the biggest rainbow I’ve ever laid eyes on.

When we pull into my driveway, I spot my mother’s red sedan parked beside Jackson’s rental car. My stomach tightens. Mom often drops by unannounced, but I have a feeling this visit is deliberate. I mentioned I was looking at rentals with Jackson today, and she’s been suspiciously quiet about his sudden reappearance.

“Looks like my mom is here.” I turn off the engine and glance at Jackson. “Do you want to come in and meet her?”

“Of course,” he says without hesitation. “I’d love to meet your mom.”

Inside, we find my mother rearranging my kitchen cabinets, a dish towel over her shoulder. She turns at the sound of the door, her eyes immediately finding Jackson, assessing him up and down.

“Mom, this is Jackson,” I say, taking Kai from him. “Jackson, this is my mother, Nani.”

“It’s great to meet you, Nani,” Jackson says, extending his hand.

Mom shakes his hand briefly. “How was house hunting?” she asks, turning back to the cabinets. “Find anything suitable?”

Jackson shakes his head. “Not yet. The first place had serious mold issues, and the second?—”

“Mold is common here,” Mom interrupts, her back still turned. “It’s the humidity. All you need to do is clean it regularly.”

Jackson looks slightly taken aback by her defensiveness. “Sure, but this was black mold in the walls. Not something you want to expose a baby to.”

Mom turns around, her eyebrows raised. “You’re worried about exposing the baby to things?”

I wince at her tone. “Mom.”

She ignores my warning. “So, Jackson. You’re planning to stay on the island long-term?”

“That’s the plan,” he says calmly.

“And what do you plan on doing for work?”

I bounce Kai gently, hoping he doesn’t pick up on the tension filling the room. “Mom, Jackson just found out about Kai. He’s making adjustments.”

“Have you ever taken care of a baby before yesterday?” she asks, ignoring me.

“No,” he admits. “But I’m learning quickly.”

“Babies need stability. Consistency. They need parents they can count on, every day, not just when it’s convenient.”

I can see Jackson’s jaw tighten, but his voice remains even. “I agree completely. That’s why I’m here.”

“And how long will you stay when things get difficult? Parenting isn’t all smiles and sunshine.”

“Mom,” I interject forcefully. “That’s enough.”

“It’s fine,” Jackson says to me before addressing my mother. “I understand your concern. I know I’ve missed the first two months of Kai’s life, and I can’t get that time back. But I’m here now, and I plan to be here for all the rest of it—both the good parts and the hard parts.”

My mother crosses her arms. “And what about my daughter? What are your intentions toward Alana?”

The bluntness of the question makes me want to sink into the floor. “Mom! That’s not?—”

“I care about your daughter very much,” Jackson interrupts, his eyes flickering to me before returning to my mother. “Right now, I’m focused on being a good father to Kai.”

“I’ve heard that kind of talk before. From Alana’s father, in fact. He had big plans too, until things got complicated.”

The mention of my father—who left when I was four—hangs heavy in the air. Jackson's expression hardens, his jaw tightening as he finally reaches his breaking point with my mother's relentless questioning.

“I should go,” he says, his voice tight but controlled. “Thank you for coming with me today, Alana.”

“Jackson—” I start to say, but he shakes his head.

“It’s fine. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He looks at Kai in my arms, his expression softening. “Bye, buddy.”

When I turn back after watching him leave, my mother has a look of I told you so written across her face, as if Jackson's departure just proved her point.

“Was that really necessary?” I demand.

“What?” She reaches for Kai, who goes to her willingly. “I just asked a few questions.”

“You interrogated him. You brought up Dad.”

She bounces Kai on her hip while readjusting his onesie. “I’m looking out for you and this little man. Someone has to.”

“I can look out for myself. And Kai.”

“Oh, honey.” Her voice softens with condescension. “You’ve been so focused on managing everything since Kai was born. It’s understandable that you’d be swept up by Jackson’s sudden return.”

“I’m not ‘swept up’ by anything,” I argue. “He’s Kai’s father. He has a right to be in his life.”

“And he’s the same man who didn’t respond to any of your messages when you tried to tell him you were pregnant.”

I shake my head. “He never got those messages. The team never passed them on.”

“So he says.” She gives Kai a little bounce. “Men like that have a different life, Alana. The novelty of playing daddy will wear off.”

“You don’t know him.” My voice rises despite my effort to stay calm. “Jackson is a good person. You’d see that if you gave him half a chance.”

“I hope you’re right.” She sighs. “But I’ve seen this story before.”

Her certainty infuriates me. The worst part is that I’ve had the same fears lurking in the back of my mind. What if Jackson does leave eventually? But seeing him with Kai today, the way he interacted with our son—that kind of paternal love can’t possibly be temporary. Can it?

“You’re wrong about him,” I say firmly. “Jackson isn’t like Dad. He came back here for me before he even knew about Kai. And now that he knows, he’s staying.”

“For how long, Alana?”

“That’s not something you need to worry about.” I take Kai back from her, holding him close. “And I need you to respect my decisions. I want Kai to have his father in his life.”

Mom presses her lips together in a thin line. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” I say, wishing I felt as confident as I sound.

As I look down at my son, his eyes already drooping with sleepiness, I can’t help but picture Jackson’s face when he held him, full of fatherly pride. My mother is wrong about him. She has to be. Because the alternative—that Jackson could come back into our lives only to eventually leave again—is something I’m not prepared to face.

Not when I’m starting to realize just how much I want him to stay.