Chapter 3
Knox
I was all screwed up on Wednesday.
I hadn’t slept for shit last night after my spontaneous “big reveal.” I’d thought once I spilled the beans, my stress might ease some. At least I wouldn’t be keeping a secret from people I had become friends with.
The scene had been less than reassuring though, and I’d been fixated on it for hours on end. Had there been a better way to tell them? Should I have told Simon first, in private, then fessed up to my half-siblings separately?
I’d decided I’d done what I had to do, when I had to do it, for the sake of my conscience and my mental health, but in the end, that hadn’t calmed my mind at all.
When I’d come to Dragonfly Lake for a two-week stay back in June, my goal had been to meet the Henrys and explain our connection.
I’d never thought it would be easy. In fact, multiple times, I’d argued with myself that I should let it go.
Forget about meeting my family. Forget about trying to connect with my only living relatives.
Turned out I hadn’t been able to. Once I’d been aware of their existence, I was compelled to meet them. The world could seem like a lonely place when you didn’t have any family to speak of.
So I’d come here for that short vacation, run into my half-brothers at Henry’s as I’d hoped, fallen in love with the town and the lake, and decided to make this my home.
Now, months later, I’d just relocated from Texas and bought and moved into a lakefront property—for better or worse.
After my restless night, I’d attempted to work on the chapter I owed Ava for our work in progress, but between being sleep-deprived and preoccupied with real life, I hadn’t made much headway.
Then Simon had called.
He’d apologized for how he’d handled last night—apologized, for God’s sake—and invited me to dinner at his and Faye’s home in Nashville next week. I’d snapped up that invitation immediately, and we had a date for a week from Sunday.
Hearing from my father, being reassured that he hadn’t done a one eighty and decided I could fuck right off, had settled me down some. I’d finally gotten some words down on the story, but I’d lost track of time in the process.
Now I was late for my two-o’clock plotting meeting with Ava.
I was uneasy about meeting at Henry’s because chances were decent I’d run into Seth or Cash, but I refused to hide. And maybe one or both had calmed down overnight, Seth from his suspicions and Cash from his anger.
I rushed out to my car, deciding to drive even though my house was only a block and a half away. Then I’d be less late.
My garage was full of moving boxes, so my SUV was parked in the driveway.
I clicked the fob to unlock it, started to get in, then realized I’d forgotten my writing bag with my notebooks and laptop.
Swearing to myself, I left the driver’s door open and jogged back inside to get it.
I grabbed the bag, then noticed my computer was still plugged in and sitting, open but asleep, on the kitchen island where I’d been reading over my work.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, shaking my head and wondering if Ava and I would get anywhere with my head so far up my ass I could see my throat. I might be better off staying home and taking a nap. Too bad I’d never been a napper.
I unplugged the cord, then took the time to wind it neatly and stuffed it and the laptop in my bag. With a glance at the clock on the stove, I noted I was now fifteen minutes late. I pulled out my phone and clicked on Ava’s name to text her.
On my way. Sorry I’m late.
Without waiting for a response, I stuffed my phone in my pocket, picked up my bag, hurried to the door, and went outside.
A car took off from in front of my house as I exited.
I only half noticed it and only noticed it that much because it was a no-parking zone, so there weren’t normally cars parked along Lake Road.
As I walked to my gaping driver’s-side door, I wondered if Cash, who was the executive chef at Henry’s, was working today—
I stopped short because there was something sitting on the driver’s seat. Something of considerable size wedged in between the steering wheel and the seat back.
I frowned and went closer, wondering who the fuck was messing with me when I was running so late.
Glancing around, I did a quick search for someone watching me, taking video of me, paying any bit of attention to me, but fall had shown up in a chilly, unpleasant bluster overnight, and there wasn’t a soul in sight.
With a couple more steps, it hit me that that was a car seat thing for a kid—maybe? It was bulky and had an awning facing me and a handle—
Then I saw two tiny feet in baggy socks with rabbits on them, jutting out from beneath a blanket, and the breath came gasping out of me as my heart thundered.
Those feet looked real.
I peeked over the awning to see more, and…those feet were attached to…
Fuck me running, there was a baby in there.
I dared to crane my head over the edge of the seat to confirm that it was a living, breathing tiny human, holding out hope I’d discover a plastic doll head with realistic legs and body.
It was real as real could be. She, judging by the pink blanket wrapped over everything except the feet. The baby appeared to be sleeping peacefully.
I took a step back, feeling the exact opposite of peaceful.
There was a baby in a car seat in my car.
There was no one around to take care of or claim this baby. Another more careful look around the area confirmed that.
The car that had driven off…
Had someone intentionally stuffed this baby into my front seat and left?
I rubbed my hands up and down my face, wondering what the ever-loving fuck to do.
I didn’t know the first thing about babies. I’d never held one. Never gotten one out of a car seat. Wouldn’t know how to care for one if I did.
I had to do something. Call the cops? I didn’t even know what to tell them.
I stepped close again, working up my courage, as if there was a venomous snake in that bucket-like seat instead of a bundle of pink human.
My angle on the baby’s face was awkward, as she was facing the passenger door with her back to me, but I peered down at her.
Her tiny bottom lip quivered, and I stiffened.
Definitely a live baby.
In my car.
As I straightened and tried to back out of my hunched position over her, I knocked my head on the doorframe, held in a swear word, and simultaneously noticed a piece of paper tucked in at the baby’s side.
Swallowing, I grabbed the paper and carefully stepped back without hitting my head again. I straightened and unfolded it, my hands shaking.
Knox,
This is your daughter, Juniper Grace. I wanted to tell you in May when she was born, but you didn’t want to talk to me. I never signed up for this. I can’t do it anymore. Sorry.
Gina
I read it three times, then glanced around for someone laughing, ha ha, joke’s on me.
I was still alone on the quiet street. Excruciatingly alone with a…five-month-old baby, I guessed…
My daughter?
Running another calculation in my head, I figured a May baby would be conceived in August, maybe early September.
Gina and I broke up last October.
It was mathematically feasible, I guess, but…a baby?
I wasn’t a father. I couldn’t be.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I knew without looking it was Ava. Shit. Ava. She was still waiting, and there was a baby in my front seat, and what the hell was a person supposed to do with a spare baby?
I couldn’t think straight, but I knew I was in way over my head. I’d take her to Ava, and she’d help me figure out what to do.
I went back to the door and leaned in over the carrier—over the baby—and stopped short. A handle jutted up, so I grabbed it and carefully tugged the carrier out enough to flip it around so I could really see the infant.
She slept on, not noticing she’d been moved, having no idea that her life had just been gigantically altered when her mother had deserted her.
As I studied her fuzzy patch of light hair, chubby cheeks, and doll-like eyelashes, my chest contracted with sadness for this tiny girl. Sadness for her and a stirring of anger at Gina. What the hell was she thinking? She hadn’t signed up for this? Welcome to life, honey.
Anger wouldn’t solve my problem, wouldn’t solve this baby’s problems. I didn’t have the first clue what would, but standing here in my driveway wasn’t the answer.
Slamming down on my emotions, I went into practical mode.
Babies rode in the backseat. I knew that much.
I pulled the carrier out, opened the back door, and tried to figure out how to install it. I didn’t have a clue. I glanced to the east, toward Henry’s. If I took a few steps to the end of my driveway, I’d be able to see the sign. It was that close.
I set the carrier on the seat with the baby facing forward, so I could keep an eye on her in the mirror, and got in.
There was undoubtedly a way to belt her in, but I had no idea how.
I’d drive the block and a half slowly, carefully.
There was almost no traffic anyway on this gloomy Wednesday afternoon in the off-season.
I knew it wasn’t ideal, but I needed a class in car seat 101.
When I climbed into the driver’s seat, I checked the baby—Juniper—in the mirror and saw she was still sleeping, so peacefully, so naively.
My whole body felt shaky, nervous as fuck that something would happen between my house and Henry’s that would endanger the helpless baby.
With a breath that did nothing to settle me, I backed out and drove the block and a half to the parking lot, relieved to see it was only partly full, the lunch crowd mostly gone.
I pulled into a spot near the door, put the car in park, and exhaled. My gaze went to the mirror again in time to see the baby turn her head, her eyes still closed.
Okay. I’d gotten her here, and she appeared to still be okay.
What now?
I couldn’t walk into Henry’s with a baby. Word would be all over town before I could settle in at a table. There’d probably be speculation that I kidnapped her or stole her, because I was the least likely to actually have a baby.
Except you might have a baby.
Yeah, I couldn’t process that right now. Not even close.
I took my phone out and saw that Ava had indeed messaged me not to rush, that she had coffee and was fine, watching her fiancé run the kitchen.
With a quiet, semihysterical laugh to myself, I wished coffee would make me fine, but I wasn’t sure anything could, maybe not ever again.
My hands were shaking so badly I could barely type, but I finally got a text to her.
I’m in the parking lot. I need you to come out to my SUV, please.