Chapter Two
Zora
The walls are too thin.
I noticed it the first night I moved in.
I’ve been here for almost two months. The week after Janice left him, Amelia gave me until the end of the month, and I found this place in four days because it was the only listing that didn't ask for a co-signer.
My boss let me bring Levi to work. The landlord here didn't ask what I was to him, and I didn't volunteer it.
That's the whole story of how we got here—nobody asked, so I never had to answer.
It won't hold. I know it won't hold. But it's held for two months.
But today, it feels worse. Louder. Like every sound next door is happening right inside my head. And right now, that sound is people arguing. Sharp voices, raised tones, loud enough to make me flinch.
Levi shifts in my arms.
I freeze instantly, holding my breath like that might somehow keep him asleep. “No…no, baby, stay asleep,” I whisper softly, gently rocking him as I sit on the edge of my bed, my entire body tense.
He’s been sick for two days. Fever. Crying.
Barely sleeping. I know what I’m supposed to do.
I’m supposed to take him in. And I’ve run that conversation a hundred times in my head—the desk, the clipboard, the woman asking me for his insurance and his birth certificate and my relationship to him, and me standing there with a letter from a woman nobody can find.
So I don’t take him in. I sit up with him instead, and I check his breathing every twenty minutes like that’s the same thing.
It isn't. I know it isn't. But the nurse at the daycare center looked him over and assured me he would be fine.
I haven’t slept either, and the only reason he’s down right now is that he finally exhausted himself.
And now this.
A woman’s voice cuts through the wall, loud and angry. “You don’t get to just disappear, Jax!”
Jax.
So that’s his name. My jaw tightens slightly. I shift Levi carefully, pressing him closer to my chest as I glare at the wall like that’s going to do anything. I already know it’s him. My neighbor. The one I ran into the other day. The one I haven’t stopped thinking about.
I exhale sharply at that thought and shake my head. “Not important,” I mutter under my breath.
It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Except…it kind of does. Because I saw her. The woman. Tall. Beautiful. Perfect hair, perfect clothes, like she stepped off the pages of some fashion magazine. She walked into his apartment like she belonged there, and for some reason, I didn’t like that.
She walked in like doors are just things that open.
I’ve never once in my life walked into a room like that.
I learned to read a room from the hallway—whether the TV was on, whether there were shoes by the door that weren’t hers, whether tonight was a night I ate something or a night I didn’t.
You don’t come out of that and then stroll through somebody’s door like you own it.
I didn’t like her. Didn’t like the idea of him with her. Which is ridiculous. I don’t know him. And he definitely doesn’t know me.
Levi lets out a soft whimper, and I immediately shift my focus back to him. “Hey, it’s okay,” I whisper, brushing my fingers gently over his cheek. “Ignore them, okay? They’re just…loud.”
Another loud shout echoes through the wall. Levi jerks. My heart drops. “No, no, no,” I mutter urgently, rocking him faster now. “Please don’t wake up, baby, please…”
It works. Next door, the argument continues like nothing’s happened. As if they don’t care who they’re disturbing, and something inside me snaps. I quickly place him in the bassinet, needing to do something about the noise.
My exhaustion crashes into me all at once, heavy and overwhelming. And before I can talk myself out of it, I’m moving toward the door.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to him, even though he doesn’t understand me. “We’re fixing this.”
I open the door and step into the hallway, where the noise is instantly clearer. I walk straight to the apartment next door, my heart pounding harder with every step.
I don’t do this. I don’t knock on people’s doors. I don’t ask for things. But today? I don’t have a choice. I lift my hand, ready to knock, when the door swings open.
I almost stumble back, my hand still half-raised, as the woman storms out. Her heels click sharply against the floor, her face tight with anger and something else—frustration, maybe even desperation.
Up close, she’s even more put together than I remember. Flawless in a way that makes me instantly aware of my oversized shirt and messy hair. She doesn’t even look at me. Just brushes past like I’m not there.
“Unbelievable,” she mutters under her breath as she heads for the stairs.
And then he’s there. Jax. Blue jeans and black T-shirt, blond hair shoved back by nothing but his own hand, and it doesn’t matter—he still looks like the photograph and not the person.
He stands in the doorway, shoulders tense, mouth set in a hard line.
His blue eyes are dark, like whatever just happened isn’t finished in his head yet.
For a second, he doesn’t notice me, his focus still on the woman walking away, but then his gaze shifts and lands on me. And everything in his expression changes. Not completely. The tension is still there. But his gaze softens.
“Hey,” he says, voice lower now. “Sorry about that.”
Levi lets out a loud cry. Right on cue.
I grit my teeth, exhaustion hitting me all over again, sharp and overwhelming. “Yeah, well…he’s not a fan of whatever that was,” I snap, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
His brows lift slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. Good.
“Fair,” he replies after a second, glancing toward my door. “Did we wake him?”
“Yes,” I say immediately, my voice tight. “I just got him to sleep and…” I cut myself off, shaking my head as Levi lets out another loud cry. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” he says, stepping forward slightly, concern flickering across his face. “I didn’t realize—”
“Well, now you do,” I cut in, sharper than I mean to be, but I’m too tired to soften it. “So maybe keep it down next time.”
I don’t wait for a reaction. I open my door only to hear Levi cry again. Louder this time, and the momentary guilt I felt for snapping at my neighbor dwindles.
“Wait! I didn’t get your name,” Jax calls behind me.
“Zora,” I retort, then I enter my apartment and shut the door behind me.
I lean against the door for a second, wondering why I answered him. I don’t get to dwell on it for long. Levi’s cries fill the room, sharp and relentless, and I rush quickly to pick him up. I shift him against my shoulder, trying to soothe him, but it’s not working.
Not like before. My movements are slower now, my patience thinner, my head pounding from lack of sleep.
“I know, baby, I know,” I croon, pushing off the door and pacing again. “I’m trying, okay? I’m trying.”
But nothing works. Not the rocking. Not the soft shushing. Not the way I usually hold him. He just keeps crying, his tiny face scrunched, his body tense, and the sound cuts right through me.
“I don’t know what you want,” I whisper, my voice breaking slightly. “Tell me what you need.”
A knock sounds at the door. I freeze. For a second, irritation spikes. If that’s him complaining about the noise… The knock comes again. Softer this time.
“Zora?”
My head snaps up. He used my name. I hesitate, my grip tightening slightly around Levi as he cries against my shoulder.
For a second, I consider ignoring it. But then Levi cries louder.
And I’m so tired. So desperate for five minutes of quiet.
I exhale slowly and walk to the door, pulling it open just enough to see him.
“What?” I ask, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice.
He doesn’t react to my tone. If anything, his expression softens slightly, his eyes flicking to Levi, then back to me.
“I’m not here to complain,” he says quietly, lifting one hand like he’s trying not to spook me. “I just…I think I can help.”
I blink at him. “Help?”
“Yeah,” he nods, glancing at Levi again as another sharp cry cuts through the space between us. “I’ve got nieces and nephews. A lot of them. I’ve dealt with this before—colic, restless nights, all of it.”
I tighten my hold on Levi instinctively. “He’s not…”
“I know he’s not mine,” he cuts in gently, like he already understands what I’m about to say. “I’m not trying to overstep. I just feel bad we woke him, and you look like you haven’t slept in days.”
I stiffen slightly. “I’m fine.”
He raises a brow, clearly not buying it. “Sure.”
Levi cries again, louder, his tiny body tensing in my arms. And whatever argument I was about to make dies in my throat. I close my eyes for a second, exhaling slowly, then open them again.
“You really think you can get him to stop?” I ask, my voice quieter now.
“I can try.”
A pause stretches between us. I shouldn’t. I don’t know him.
Every rule I’ve made since the night my mother left him on a doorstep says no. You don’t let strangers near him. You don’t let anyone near him because everyone who’s ever gotten close to something I love has taken it or broken it or walked out holding it.
But he’s been crying for an hour. I have no one to call. There’s no version of tonight where I fix this by myself, and I’m too far past empty to pretend otherwise.
Help is help. Even from a stranger. Even from him.
“Fine,” I mutter, stepping back and opening the door wider. “If he screams louder, you’re leaving.”
A corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “Deal.”
He steps inside, his presence immediately filling the small space, but not in an overwhelming way.
Just…steady. Grounded. Like he belongs anywhere he stands.
I close the door behind him, suddenly aware of everything.
The clutter, the smallness of the room, the fact that I just did the one thing I swore I’d never do.