6. Blake
Chapter 6
Blake
C offee.
Sugar. Carbs. Why did the morning exist?
Ugh, that moment of dragging myself out of bed was the worst kind of hell.
Especially since I'd moved to Willowbrook and apparently started hanging out with morning people .
Alarm clocks were the devil, and hearing them going off through the thin walls in this house was almost as bad as when Trace and Delaney were doing the dirty.
I really needed to move into my own place. Or at least a bedroom on the other side of the house. Sharing a wall with those two was not something I'd wish on my worst enemy.
As I stumbled down the stairs, the scent of fresh coffee and bacon reached me, and I remembered why I hadn't been able to bring myself to leave this place even though I'd told them I was.
Well, that and my distinct lack of funds.
Trace was the god of the breakfast table, and it was the only redeeming feature of the pre-noon world.
"Morning, Blake!" Delaney sang out from where she was packing a lunch for Cade at the kitchen counter.
"Umphhh." It was all I could manage before coffee hit my system.
Delaney passed me the largest mug in the house, which was already filled to the brim.
I'd claimed it as my own the very first morning I'd been here, and I definitely wouldn't have survived this long without it. I swear my eyes crossed as I looked at it and then inhaled the steam like an addict about to get their first fix.
My eyes snapped open as that thought registered with my brain, and I shook my head as I refused to acknowledge I had a problem.
"I'm never leaving you," I whispered at the coffee and took that first blissful sip. "Precious, precious baby." I practically floated to a seat at the kitchen table as I cradled the beautiful mug of liquid life.
"She's doing it again," Cade sang as he came and sat next to me. "Mom said coffee stunts your growth."
"I didn't know you'd already started drinking it," I snarked, sticking my tongue out at him.
He laughed and poked me in the ribs as I hunched protectively around my mug.
Cade was ten years old and next to Delaney, my absolute best friend in the world. No, that wasn't inappropriate.
The kid was more interesting than most of the adults I'd ever met, and I'd honestly prefer hanging out with him than most people.
"And breakfast is served," Trace declared, laying a large platter in the middle of the table.
My mouth watered at the options on display.
Dang, even the bowl of fruit salad looked appetizing, and that was saying something.
Cade and I piled our plates high, and I was just shoving a piece of bacon into my mouth when a squall pierced through the air.
I looked up in surprise, blinking.
I could have sworn I just heard.
.. shaking my head in denial, I put the bacon in my mouth and started chewing.
Trace and Delaney looked at each other and then at me.
I could see the confusion on their faces, so I turned to Cade only to find him happily eating away.
Maybe it was just me, and I'd finally inhaled too many paint fumes. Not that I'd been anywhere near any paint fumes recently.
Oh great, now I was going to start out the day all depressed and stuff.
There had to be a solution to this stupid art block I was going through.
Lord, I was getting sick of this internal monologue.
Maybe that was the trick, I could annoy myself into action.
Oh woe is me, art is so hard…
nope nothing.
I looked around the table at the people I was sitting with.
I loved it here. Willowbrook was such an unexpected surprise to me.
As soon as I'd driven into town on that first morning, I felt like I was at home. I’d felt a spark to create, but even as I walked around this cute little town, cradling my sketchbook to my chest, it still hadn’t come.
At first I’d thought settling into new surroundings would do the trick. I had friends here. Like actual adult friends. And I was determined to get into the most exclusive club in town—Wednesday Lunch Club. Those ladies weren't only a riot, they knew everything about everyone and everything.
All of the best gossip around was to be found at that table, and who wouldn't want to be part of that! I probably wasn’t obsessing about this just because they'd told me I couldn't. No wasn't really a word I liked to hear, and if anything, it just made me dig my heels in further.
The loud cry pierced the air again as I leaned back in my chair, my fingers tapping against my chin.
"Lanes, the baby's crying," I muttered.
If I could figure out the problem, I could definitely get enough momentum to pull together at least ten pieces for the show. It was less than I would have liked but...
"What the hell?" Trace suddenly shouted, leaping out of his seat so it clattered behind him and made me jump in my chair.
"Gah! What are you shouting about?"
Delaney and Trace were both dashing out of the kitchen and heading for the front door. I looked at Cade in confusion, and he frowned at me and shrugged, turning in his seat to watch his parents. Then he turned back to me.
"We don't have a baby yet," he pointed out.
My brain finally caught up with what was happening, and I quickly rushed after my friends.
It said a lot about the current state of my mental health that I needed a ten-year-old to remind me of that.
I caught up with them just as Delaney was pulling the front door open, and then we all froze, staring down at the parcel I definitely hadn't ordered.
"Erm, that's... unusual," I said, staring into the two blue eyes that watched me from the car seat in front of the door.
Those eyes—a startling shade that reminded me of the cornflowers that grew wild along the fence line at the edge of Delaney's property. Alert and somehow...knowing. They locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"Oh my God," Delaney rushed out, dropping to her knees and checking on the now quiet baby that watched us all intently. "How long have they been out here? Did someone really just leave a baby on our doorstep?"
Delaney scooped up the poor child out of the car seat, holding it carefully as Trace moved past her to the front porch. "Whoever it was, they're long gone now," he said, shaking his head. "Take it inside, and I'll give Xander a call to come and check on them. I guess we call the police too?"
Delaney moved past me, cradling the baby to her chest as she whispered softly to it. A chubby hand reached out and grabbed her long hair, tiny fingers with impossibly perfect miniature nails opening and closing rhythmically around the strands. The baby tugged, a wet giggle bubbling up from those rosebud lips as saliva glistened on her chin.
"I can't believe someone would do this," I said, checking through the car seat.
There was nothing in there except a blanket, a pacifier, and a small soft toy—a rabbit, I realized as I lifted it. One of its button eyes was missing, and the once-plush fur was worn in patches, suggesting it had been loved before being tucked in with this tiny human. Despite its shabby condition, the fabric felt expensive beneath my fingertips. I ran my thumb over the worn places, wondering about the hands that had created those smooth patches.
"There's a diaper bag here too," Trace said, going to the small table on the porch where Delaney liked to have her morning coffee sometimes. "And there's a letter," he added slowly as he turned around.
His wide eyes should have been enough to clue me in on what was about to happen. Honestly, the first place my brain went was that Trace's ex-wife had come back to leave him a parting gift even though I knew that was absolutely impossible given how old the baby had to be.
"It's addressed to you," Trace said, holding out the envelope to me.
I looked over my shoulder, assuming I'd find Delaney standing there with the baby. Except she'd gone inside, and there was only me and Trace out on the porch now.
"Addressed to who?" I asked as I turned back to look at him.
"You," he said quietly, turning the envelope around to show me.
And damn it all to hell if it wasn't my own name scrawled on the front of that envelope.
In suspiciously familiar handwriting.
"This isn't..." I reached out to take the envelope and stared at it in shock.
She wouldn't. Surely, she wasn't capable of doing this.
I felt Trace's hands come to my shoulders as he turned me around and walked me back into the kitchen. All I could do was stare at the envelope, a heavy feeling of dread building in my stomach.
"I don't understand," I muttered as I sat back down in the seat I'd been in only minutes before and yet felt an entire lifetime ago.
Delaney appeared in front. She had that drawn, concerned expression on her face that I usually hated. This time it absolutely terrified me though. Because it meant this was real, this was actually happening.
I looked up in panic when I realized she wasn't holding the baby, only to find Trace carefully cradling it with Cade at his side. The baby's cheek was pressed against Trace's chest, her tiny body rising and falling with each breath. Her eyes were half-closed now, long lashes fluttering against plump cheeks as she curled one fist against her mouth.
Both of them watched me carefully, and yet neither said a word.
"Do you want me to read it?" Delaney asked as I turned back to her.
My immediate thought was no. I didn't want her to see that my sister was capable of doing such a terrible thing. But it wasn't like I wouldn't tell her anyway. Not to mention the fact that we all lived under the same roof. She was going to figure out that this kid was being dumped on us sooner rather than later; it was pretty obvious from the fact that it had just been left outside.
"Anything could have happened," I whispered, suddenly horrified at the thought of that tiny bundle alone in the morning chill.
"Don't think like that," Delaney said softly, reaching up and taking my free hand as she gently rubbed it. "They're fine. They're safe with us now. I don't think they were out there for long."
They. We didn't even know if the baby was a boy or a girl.
I pushed the letter into Delaney's hand. "I can't."
I was still shaking my head as she stood and opened the envelope before sitting in the seat next to me and pulling out the paper.
The first thing Delaney did was flip it over to read the name at the end.
"It's Madison, isn't it?"
Delaney nodded sadly. "Do you want me to read it aloud?"
"Cade, go and get ready for school," Trace said softly from the other side of the table. Cade immediately began to protest. "Just let us do this bit alone," he added.
Cade came over to me and wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me tightly. Tears rushed to my eyes as I held him back just as fiercely. There was nothing that I wouldn't do for this kid, and he wasn't even mine. I couldn't even fathom what my sister was thinking to do a thing like this.
As Cade left the kitchen, Delaney quietly asked, "You ready?"
"No, but read it anyway."
My hands clenched into fists as I pressed my knuckles down into my thighs, waiting to hear how my sister could justify doing this. As Delaney started to read, I gritted my teeth, already knowing the answer and hating them even more than I had before.
Blake, I'm sure you probably hate me right about now. I wouldn't blame you if you did. I hate myself if that makes you feel any better. This is your niece, Amelia. I know this looks bad. I don't even know if I can write this down, let alone say it aloud. But I can't do this, Blake. I can't be her mother. I thought I could. I thought I was strong enough, but I'm not. I made a mistake. Hell, I made hundreds of them. Paris is so much different to back home. I can finally be free here. It's a feeling that I've never had before, and once I started, I just couldn't stop. I don't know who her father is, and doing this alone is just too hard. I can't go back to Mom and Dad. Not like this. They'd throw me out the minute they realized what I'd done. They wouldn't accept you as an artist; I can only imagine what they'd say if they found out that I'd done this. You always were the better sister. You stood up to our parents even when they threatened to take everything away from you. I hated you a little bit for that back then. For leaving me just so you could go off and live some dream. I can see now how terrible that was. How selfish I was. You've made a beautiful life for yourself, Blake, and you can give Amelia everything I can't. By the time you find her, I'll be on the way to the airport. Please don't try to stop me. Please don't try to find me. It's better this way. You can give her a life filled with love that I never could. I hope that in time you can forgive me, and I hope that one day, if you decide to tell her the truth, that Amelia can forgive me too. But I wouldn't blame you if you never told her about me. Let her believe that she's your daughter. Don't let her know that she came from a terrible person like me. I'm sorry. Madison
As Delaney's voice faded, a soft sound drew my attention. Across the table, the baby—Amelia—had made a hiccupping noise. Her face scrunched up momentarily before relaxing, and I found myself moving toward her before I even realized I was standing.
"May I?" I asked Trace, my arms already extending.
He carefully transferred her to me, guiding my hands into the right position to support her head. The weight of her was surprising—so solid and real and yet so light. She smelled of something powdery and sweet, with a hint of something else underneath that was uniquely baby. Her warmth seeped through my thin t-shirt as I cradled her against my chest.
Amelia's eyes opened at the transfer, that cornflower blue fixing on me again. Her tiny rosebud mouth worked for a moment before settling into a little 'o' of concentration. One of her hands freed itself from the blanket she was wrapped in and reached up, fingers splayed, seeming to grab at the air between us. Without thinking, I offered her my finger, and she grasped it with surprising strength.
Something shifted inside me then—a tightening in my chest that wasn't entirely unpleasant. I'd never imagined myself as a mother. Had never felt that biological urge that Delaney sometimes talked about. But looking down at this tiny person, feeling the absolute trust in the way she held onto my finger, I understood something I hadn't before.
"Hi, Amelia," I whispered, my voice breaking slightly. "I'm your... I'm Blake."
I couldn't say aunt. That wasn't what Madison wanted. And looking at this innocent face, I wasn't sure what I wanted either. But I knew with absolute certainty that I wouldn't—couldn't—abandon her the way my sister had.
Amelia let out a tiny sigh, her breath warm against my wrist, and her eyes drifted closed again. Her fingers maintained their grip on mine even as her body relaxed into sleep.
“There’s some papers in this bag,” Trace said softly pulling out some manilla folders. His face turned grime as he looked at them. “Looks like a copy of her medical records, passport, birth certificate.”
He put them on the table in front of me and my eyes fixed on the birth certificate. “She’s only seven months old,” I whispered sadly. "What happens now?" I asked softly, looking back at the little girl in my arms and finding myself unable to take my eyes off her face.
"We’ll figure it out," Delaney said, coming to stand beside me. "Together."
I nodded, a strange calmness settling over me despite the panic still churning underneath. One step at a time. That was all I could manage right now. And the first step was making sure this little girl knew she was safe, even if her world had just been turned upside down.
Mine certainly had.