Chapter 3
THREE
Morgan
I sat with my back against the door, blocking it because no one had given me a key, trying to ignore the fact that someone called Lucas was curled up on a chair in the far corner of the room.
He hadn’t been unkind, just sat quietly, reading a book under a soft light.
He’d tried to talk to me, but I didn’t have anything to say.
He’d said I could sleep, but I wanted to be next to Gabbi, so I pulled the covers off the bed to create a nest that covered me, then curled around where Lucas had taken a drawer from the unit, lining it with blankets.
Like a blanket fort.
With the most precious thing in the world inside for me to protect.
Marcus had brought another bottle earlier, showing me how to test the warmth, before giving Gabbi a quick check, then me, and disappearing again. I hesitated, second-guessing the angle, the way her head rested in my arm.
“Like this?” I’d asked, and he’d nodded and smiled at me, and I felt capable for a few moments, and when she latched, relief hit so hard it had almost knocked the breath out of me.
The bottle had slipped a little, milk dribbling down her chin.
“Sh—sorry,” I muttered, wiping it too fast, afraid I was doing everything wrong.
She fussed, and I froze, not sure what I’d done this time, but Marcus had reassured me it was all good, and she latched back on.
Marcus had apologized for Lucas sitting with me, but explained it gently, saying that it was protocol for a team member to accompany anyone new to the place.
I could see the lie in his expression because I’m sure it had more to do with the dramatic way I’d arrived—with a baby, on Christmas Day.
The whole dead-ex story probably didn’t help.
The cops could show up any second, and my hypervigilance ran at full tilt. It was the only way I could make sure no one walked in while Gabbi slept. Every time someone’s voice echoed down the hall, my heart jumped.
Someone—I don’t know who—left a plate of food near me. I picked at it, too wired to eat much, but I did drink the water.
I knew enough to stay alive.
The lights were dim, and the only sounds were Gabbi’s breathing and Lucas turning pages.
My eyes burned from exhaustion, but I kept them open.
I didn’t trust myself to close them yet.
Not here. Not when everyone was probably still deciding what kind of man I was.
Tears stung my eyes, the kind that burned and shamed me for showing weakness, but I couldn’t stop them.
I leaned closer, whispering to Gabbi as she shifted in her makeshift bed.
“What am I going to do, little one?” My voice cracked. “How’s this supposed to work?”
I wiped a hand over my face and exhaled, the weight of everything pressing down on me. I had to find a way. For her. I glanced over at Lucas, but he gave no indication he’d heard me, although he must have.
What will happen now that Annie is gone?
“What are we gonna do without your momma?” I whispered.
The words tore something loose inside me, and before I knew it, I was sobbing and I pressed my sleeve to my mouth, trying to quiet the sound, counting breaths until I could breathe again.
My shoulders shook, breath hitching as I fought to stay silent.
I didn’t want anyone to hear, didn’t want Lucas to see me like this.
But the grief wouldn’t stop, spilling out of me in ragged, muffled cries while Gabbi slept peacefully, warm and tucked in her blanket cocoon.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Lucas. He handed me tissues, offered me a smile, then moved back to the far corner.
I wanted to say something.
I need to explain myself.
I should beg them not to call the cops. If Annie’s family found out their daughter had a child, would I lose Gabbi?
Was the right thing to do to give her up to a family with the resources to care for her?
What could I give her? I had an honorable discharge, out now after too many tours that left more scars than medals, and I’d planned to use the GI Bill, go back to school, maybe fix engines or study something that could build a future. But I had a daughter now.
My world might have nothing to offer her—no savings, no home, no peace—but she was everything to me. I’d find a way to give her something better, even if it killed me.
Gabbi snuffled and shifted, and I immediately lifted her from the drawer, burying my tears in her neck and holding her close.
She was beautiful—perfect. A tiny rosebud mouth, pale blue eyes blinking open with sleepy confusion, and a yawn that made her whole face scrunch up before she relaxed again.
My chest ached just looking at her. She wasn’t crying yet, but it had been…
I glanced at a clock… three hours? four?
since her last feed. And by the odor permeating the air, she needed changing.
I looked up at Lucas. “I need to change her and get her another bottle. Or something. She’s five months, at least I think so. Does she need other food? Mashed-up baby stuff?”
Lucas leaned forward, pocketing his book. “I don’t know. Let’s go find Marcus.”
I followed him into the hallway, carefully shifting Gabbi in my arms. The corridor was silent, lit faintly by overhead lights that buzzed.
My boots squeaked against the linoleum, too loud in the quiet.
Lucas walked ahead, his steps steady, shoulders relaxed in a way that made me jealous.
I stayed close, noting door we passed, half expecting one to open and for cops to spill out, arresting me and taking Gabbi.
Every instinct urged me to keep moving, stay alert, and at the end of the hall, we found Marcus hunched over a clipboard outside the exam room.
He glanced up as we approached, taking in me, the baby, and Lucas’s watchful presence.
His expression gentled, though his eyes remained sharp—assessing.
“Hey,” he said quietly, nodding toward Gabbi. “Is she doing okay?”
“She’s fine,” I managed, though my voice came out rough. “Needs changing. Maybe a bottle. I’m not sure what she’s supposed to be eating at five months.”
Marcus gave a small smile. “We’ve got supplies. Formula, diapers, the works. Let’s take care of her first, yeah?” He stepped aside, motioning for me to follow him into the doctor’s office. Lucas didn’t follow us inside; the door shut behind me, leaving Gabbi, the doctor, and me.
I placed Gabbi on the table, fumbling to change her into the clean diaper Marcus handed me, using so many wipes I could have built a mountain out of the dirty ones.
When she kicked her legs and gurgled, staring up at me, something in my chest broke again.
She deserved so much more than this—more than me trying to figure it out as I went.
But right now, she just had me. And that had to be enough.
Marcus watched me work in silence for a moment, then leaned back on the counter, arms folded. “You’re doing okay,” he said. Not quite reassurance, more an observation.
“I’m not,” I muttered, fastening the diaper and second-guessing myself over how tight or loose it was.
“You’re doing fine,” he said. “Look, I know you’ve had a hell of a day, and I’m not here to make it harder, but I need to ask a few things, just so we can help.”
My pulse jumped. “About her mom?”
“About everything,” Marcus said gently. “Where you came from, where you’re headed. Anyone we need to contact. We’re not the cops, Morgan, but we can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on.”
“Corporal, uhm… infantry… out now, just… I came home and my ex… hell, she wasn’t even really my ex…” I hesitated, adjusting the blanket around Gabbi. “There’s no one else in Gabbi’s life now. Just me.”
Marcus’s brow furrowed. “You said you found Gabbi’s mom dead? Can you tell me what happened?”
I shook my head, jaw tight. I could still see it—the apartment cold and silent, the TV’s flickering light throwing shadows across Annie’s still face.
The air reeked of stale smoke and a metallic scent.
Gabbi’s cries cut through the quiet, tiny fists waving, desperate and alone.
I remember standing there, frozen for what felt like hours before I finally moved.
My stomach had turned; my knees were weak, and my palms were slick with cold sweat.
I didn’t have to touch Annie to know—she was already gone.
“Her mom told me she’d gotten clean,” I said, voice rough. “Told me I had a daughter.”
“So, your partner was—”
“Not my partner. One night. A friend…” Everything tumbled out, and I inhaled sharply. “I took Gabbi and left.”
Marcus studied me for a long moment. “All right. Then we’ll start there.” He scribbled something on his clipboard and looked up again. “We’ve got a few open rooms. Stay, get some rest, and we’ll sort the rest tomorrow.”
The support hit harder than I expected. I nodded, and whispered, “Thank you.”
Marcus’s voice softened even more. “I’m sorry about Gabbi’s mom,” he said quietly.
I swallowed hard, staring down at Gabbi’s tiny fingers curling around mine. “Yeah,” I said. The word came out small, broken, and my throat hurt.
Marcus gave a slow nod that conveyed more understanding than words could express. The silence between us felt heavy, but not awkward—just honest. Finally, he said, “You did what you had to do. You got your daughter out. That counts for something.”
I looked up, eyes burning again. “Does it?”
He met my gaze. “Yeah, Morgan. It does.” He hesitated before setting the clipboard aside. “We have someone here to talk to you,” he said.
My stomach dropped.
“Cops?” I asked. “She’s mine. I won’t let anyone take her. I didn’t do anything wrong!” Apart from not reporting a death. Was that a crime? I couldn’t think, and the pounding in my ears was suddenly so loud it drowned out everything else.
Marcus shook his head, the movement slow and deliberate. “No, not the police. A lawyer. Someone who can advise us on the next steps. Paperwork, guardianship—just to make sure you and Gabbi are protected.”
I exhaled slowly. “A lawyer,” I repeated, glancing down at Gabbi. My hands shook as I adjusted the blanket around her. “I don’t have the money to pay for that.” The walls suddenly felt closer, and the air was too thin. I couldn’t breathe.
“You don’t need to, it’s funded by Guardian Hall,” Marcus said.
But all I heard was another trap closing in. My heart pounded, my chest hurt. “I can’t take money,” I said, the words scraping out of me. “Maybe I should go.” Lawyers meant paperwork, and I’d lose Gabbi. They’d take her…
The urge to run, to get Gabbi out before someone changed their mind, flooded me so hard my vision blurred. I was scared, cornered, splintering apart, piece by piece. I scooped her up, heart hammering. Fear clawed up my throat until it tasted like metal. I needed air.
Panic blurred the edges of the room as I yanked open the door, clutching Gabbi.
Where the hell was I even going? The hallway stretched in front of me, too bright, too narrow.
I barreled into someone passing, their startled yelp breaking through the haze.
I shoved them away, knew they’d hit the far wall, but I couldn’t stop.
I ran. I reached the front door, twisted the handle, and yanked until my wrist ached. It wouldn’t move. Locked.
“Let me out!” I shouted, my voice breaking. My hand slipped on the handle, slick with sweat, and I wiped it on my jeans before grabbing it again. “Now!”
Gabbi started crying. Terrified wails echoed off the hallway walls, each one slicing through the air.
Too loud. Too fast. I couldn’t breathe. I slammed my back to the door and slid down against it, clutching Gabbi.
My breath came in gasps, every muscle shaking.
When I finally looked up, my gaze met the man I’d shoved into the wall.
He had dark blond hair, a stunned expression, and bright blue eyes locked on me.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you!” I blurted.
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice low and steady, as if he was trying to talk me down. “I’m not hurt.”
Then Marcus was there, one hand reaching out to touch my arm. “It’s okay, Morgan,” he repeated, his voice gentle but firm. “No one’s hurt, and no one’s going to take Gabbi. You’re safe here.”
I pressed my forehead to Gabbi’s, and her breath hit my skin in short, warm bursts, and I focused on that. In. Out. In. Out. Safe. The word barely made sense anymore.
I’d shoved someone, I’d tried to run, and I made Gabbi cry.
I’m fucking useless.
But I’m all she’s got.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I don’t know how many times I said it, but the man I’d shoved inched toward me and went to a crouch.
“Hey,” he said, and everything inside me went still. “Morgan, right? I’m Cole Braxton.”
I blinked at him. He wasn’t making any sense. I knew he was telling me his name, but my brain was offline.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, kissing Gabbi’s forehead as her cries faded into shaky little hiccups. She needed me to stay calm, to be something like steady. I wasn’t sure I could, but I tried anyway.
“And this is Gabbi?” Cole asked quietly. “You have a beautiful daughter, Morgan.” His voice was calm, no hint of judgment, just warmth reaching straight through the panic still rattling in my chest.
When I finally met his eyes, I expected anger. Instead, there was only compassion—clear and steady, bright blue and impossibly kind.
What was this place?
Why was everyone so damn kind and understanding?
And who was this man with the cautious smile?