Chapter 3
J ustin’s ears rang, and he was to the point where the screaming had blended into a drone.
Isaiah cried and cried. Justin had done the bicycling the legs business that he’d read about when he was still coherent enough to make out words and what they meant.
Baby massage had been next. Whatever he did, he’d better not stick a fucking bottle in the kid’s mouth. That made him scream harder.
This was the third night since his parents had gone back to Arizona. He hadn’t registered more than four total hours of sleep, and if he got a two-hour stretch at one time, it was a damn miracle.
That sleep-when-your-baby-sleeps business was bullshit. Whoever concocted that advice hadn’t been a single parent with dishes to wash, laundry, checkups, and a functioning ranch.
Ranchers didn’t get maternity leave.
Thank God his sister had moved back to town. Sure, he was happy that Brigit had married his best friend, was blissfully in love, and was happier than he’d ever seen her. But he was selfishly glad that she’d taken over the majority of the sheep-ranching duties until he could come up for air.
When that would be, he had no clue.
Isaiah bunched in his arms and released a wallop of a wail.
His tongue was flat, and his little throat had to be raw.
The parenting magazines stacked on the end table by the rocking chair said crying didn’t hurt babies.
Justin had no idea how that could be true.
It was hurting him, and he wasn’t even the one throwing a fit.
He got up, patting Isaiah’s diapered bottom, cradling the boy in the crook of his arm, and wandered around the main floor of his house.
The whole idea that the nursery could be upstairs went down the shitter the second night Isaiah was home—after the fifth trip up and down the stairs.
Why hadn’t he cried this much in the nursery?
Priya said colic. He hadn’t read up on that yet. He’d seen it mentioned in that strike-fear-in-the-heart-of-new-parents kind of way. But what was it?
And where was Priya?
He did the walk-bounce to the door that was now automatic when he held his son and peered outside.
She pulled in and he blew out a gusty breath.
She was the calm in the summer hailstorm of his life, but tonight he hadn’t trusted calling anyone else.
He wanted her opinion. She wasn’t a mom herself, but she was a doctor.
A doctor whose straight advice and firm instructions he’d used as a lifeline to get him through the idea that he was going to be a dad.
She parked across from his front door, not doing the usual loop around to face out that everyone else did in high school. She hadn’t been out here since, and even then, Maisy had preferred to stay away if his parents were home. Mom and Dad had preferred it that way, too.
He flipped the porch light on. Priya shut her door and glanced over. The lift of her brows was clear in the glow of his yard light. Yeah, Isaiah’s screaming was that loud.
“Hi,” he said as he held the door open for her. For the first time since his parents had boarded the flight to Phoenix, he felt like he might survive this infant phase.
She smiled, inspecting him closer than Isaiah.
He must look a mess. Gone were the suits of his corporate days, and even the neatly trimmed hair he’d kept up since moving home wasn’t happening anymore.
He had a good week of beard growth, shaggy hair that was probably sticking out to the four winds, and plaid pajama pants with a fresh-ish blue T-shirt.
A burp rag dotted with green turtles hung over his right shoulder.
He’d learned the hard way to always have one ready.
While Priya always looked good, tonight she was an angel in front of him. Her sleek hair was piled over one shoulder. The long sweater she wore did nothing to hide her ample curves, and if it had, those forest-green leggings would have spilled the secret that she had an incredible body anyway.
“How are you doing, Justin?” He couldn’t tell if she’d spoken up or if reading lips was a new talent he’d developed.
She didn’t wait for an answer. After she stepped out of boots fancier than this farm had ever seen, she gently pried Isaiah from his grip.
“Let me peek at him, and if everything’s okay, I’ll take over and you can get some rest.”
He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of sleeping through this noise.
His logical brain, the deeply buried portion that used to close multimillion-dollar deals, said he had to try.
But the parental instinct was strong. He was too attuned to his son.
How could he drift off when there was nowhere in the house where he could hide from the crying?
Seeing his son in Priya’s capable hands eased a part of him that was coiled so tight.
His mom was good with the baby, but she wasn’t a doctor.
Priya had said several times that she wasn’t a family doctor or pediatrician, but he didn’t care.
She had medical training and liked babies enough to help them enter the world.
She was cooing as she checked him over. “You’re just all a fuss, aren’t you? Giving Daddy a hard time.”
Isaiah had shushed at the new voice, but his volume was now ratcheting up again. Justin drifted closer, needing Priya’s comfort more than Isaiah.
“Is he okay?”
“Healthy as a…” Her lips curved. “Ram.”
A grudging smile tugged at his lips. He was a sheep rancher. That was what he’d always liked about her. She paid attention. She knew about his life and seemed to genuinely care about it. A breath of fresh air after the last couple of women in his life.
His ex, the one who had made him bitter enough to call Maisy a year ago, wasn’t mentally unstable like Maisy.
She was calculating. A damn Jedi master at manipulation.
Maisy’s actions had seemed comical after the way Gabrielle had screwed him over.
But he had to give Gabrielle one thing: she never would’ve used a baby as a power play.
In contrast, after one broken condom, Maisy had proved that she suffered from some undiagnosed mental disorder.
Now both women seemed like figments from another life. Both were lost to him in different ways. He had his son, who deserved all of his attention and best efforts. That, he was sure of. Just like he was 100 percent certain that he was done with women and the games they played.
Justin looked like hell and it wasn’t fair how handsome he still was.
Priya swaddled Isaiah, doing her best to secure him as snugly as possible.
She’d reviewed all the education she’d had on colic and tried to recall every mom who lamented about the hard days and longer nights of raising a baby with it.
She liked to think that one of the signs she was maturing as a doctor was that she listened and learned from those stories as much as from her teachers.
She was focused on women’s health and not infant health, but Isaiah seemed healthy.
It was time to deal with the dad. The dad with the sinful stubble that looked better than when he was clean-shaven.
Since she’d moved home, he always seemed to have a few days of growth darkening his face and deepening the blue of his eyes.
The contrast with his dirty-blond hair was intriguing and something she thought about way too much.
His loose pants hung low on his hips and his lean muscles were too apparent through the thin material of his shirt.
She’d be tempted to drool if the dark circles under his eyes and the hang of his shoulders didn’t snap her back to reality.
A reality in which he was not just her best friend’s ex, but the ex of a friend who had recently died—under her care.
Tonight was about Justin, not her unresolved feelings for him. “Go lay down,” she said in her best authoritative tone, the one she used in the surgery suite. “I’ve got him.”
His look was a strange mix of hopeful, relieved, and terrified. “I don’t think I can.”
He’d better. Isaiah’s screaming wasn’t going anywhere and if the baby had colic, then this was Justin’s life until it passed.
“Doctor’s orders.” She waved him off.
The corner of his mouth hitched up, and he shuffled to a short hallway that must house the door to his bedroom.
He stopped and glanced over his shoulder.
“Formula and bottles are by the sink. We have rural water, but it tastes weird without being filtered. There’s a water jug next to the can of formula. ”
She nodded, uncertainty trickling in. How would she know if Isaiah was hungry? Her training came back to her. Rooting. Right. But in the throws of colic, he probably wasn’t going to eat anything.
“Where’s the nursery?” she asked before he disappeared completely.
“Upstairs.”
Perfect. The distance would muffle the cries. If she were more comfortable driving through the county in the dark, she’d load Isaiah’s car seat and go for a long drive. Maybe next time.
She paused and looked up the stairs. Who said there’d be a next time?
But come on. The guy was alone with a baby with colic.
Last year, she’d had a mom break down with sobs that shook her body.
She’d cried so hard, Priya had worried she’d upset her C-section healing even after six weeks.
The poor thing had been facing the end of her maternity leave and her baby had been like Isaiah since week three.
Okay, so there’d be a next time. And she’d bring earplugs. The nursery was quiet and—
Wow. Not the nursery she’d expected, but then Justin hadn’t planned on being allowed much access to his own kid.
The decor was done in earth tones, complete with framed artwork of various countryside views. The carpet was whitish, but she didn’t dare flip on the light to check. The less she stimulated Isaiah the better.
A crib was on one side of the room. The wall above it was bare. She smiled. The fear of a heavy picture dropping into the crib must’ve chased the decoration away.
Smart move.
Next to the crib was a changing table. Diapers spilled from a box next to the table, and across from those was a dresser. Tiny little clothes were probably folded inside.
She scanned the mess of diapers, the wipes package that was hanging open, the pile of unopened baby gifts nestled under the window.
The clothes may not be neatly folded inside.
Was Justin the type to be bothered by the clutter? She didn’t know.
She was the type to be bothered by the clutter. Arranging Isaiah in a cradle hold, she squatted and neatly piled the diapers. Then she closed the wipes. Her fingers itched to open the drawers, but now wasn’t the time.
A red light from the baby monitor shone next to the changing table.
She leaned down to murmur into it. “Get some rest, Justin.” Clicking the monitor off, she lowered herself into the plush rocking chair and kicked her feet up.
“All right, baby. Give your daddy a break.” She sighed and settled in the rocking chair with Isaiah still in the crook of her arm. If she cradled him against her chest, he tried to throw himself around. A strong kid already.
Isaiah.
In her office, Justin had commented that he and Maisy hadn’t settled on a name. Priya had known exactly what Maisy was going to name her son, but she’d also known that if she mentioned it, Maisy would find another doctor and cut Priya out of her life.
By then, Priya hadn’t considered herself close to Maisy anymore.
Like Justin, she’d just been in it for the baby.
Unlike Justin, she hadn’t been able to discuss many of her concerns with him.
Doctor-patient confidentiality. Maisy’s actions had been questionable even before pregnancy, but she hadn’t weathered the hormones well.
Isaiah Martin Walker.
Maisy’s parents probably hadn’t liked losing the last name.
Or maybe they hadn’t cared. She hadn’t braved a visit with them.
If she had a hard time not blaming herself, what did they think?
She was afraid to know. In school, they’d loved her and Maisy as friends.
It was like they’d hoped her deep sense of responsibility would rub off on Maisy.
Did they think she’d failed their daughter as an adult?
It wasn’t time for her pain. Justin was a stand-up guy and the father, and she couldn’t see them pointing the finger at him.
How much had they worried about Maisy’s mental health? Or had they thought that since Maisy was hanging with Priya again, she’d take care of it?
Her musings had a muting effect on the crying. She gazed down at her bundle. Isaiah’s wails were pretty steady. His little hands in fists, his mouth open. Cute guy. Loud.
There wasn’t much else to do but rock him. She dug her phone out of her pocket and looked at her emails, social medias sites, and ugh, the time. She had to work in the morning.
But tomorrow wasn’t a surgery day. She wasn’t on call. And she had extra scrubs in the office. Her coworkers might wonder at her wearing scrubs in the clinic, but she doubted anyone would question her.
Setting an alarm, she renewed her determination to stick it out for the long haul.
Why?
Why was she here, doing this for Justin?
They were friends, yes, but it wasn’t like they called each other when they were back in town. They didn’t email, send memes back and forth, or hang out. Justin wasn’t a social media guy. Maisy had been the glue that stuck them together.
How had she forgiven Maisy in the first place?
The girl had known Priya crushed so hard on Justin when they were in middle school.
Next thing Priya knew, Maisy was biting her lip and whispering, spilling details about making out with him in tenth grade after the last football game of the year.
Priya should’ve made her move by then, but she hadn’t been willing to sacrifice her GPA for a boy.
She blew out a puff of air and shifted Isaiah to her other arm. The real reason she’d never made a move? Justin had never looked at her any differently than any other girl in school. He was congenial and friendly with everyone. She wasn’t special.
And wasn’t that the rub.
The child of a busy doctor and nurse wanted to feel special for more than her academic skills. Surprise. Her sister had gotten all that attention.
The day when Maisy gushed about Justin’s skills with French kissing, Priya wrote him off. She deserved better. But she hadn’t gotten “better” when it came to relationships. Just more selfish men.
Didn’t mean she didn’t sneak a glimpse of Justin’s jean-clad ass when she could. Or notice how wide his shoulders were. And she knew that he was eight inches taller than her.
Glutton for punishment, party of one?
She let her eyes drift shut and rocked a still-crying Isaiah. Yeah. She noticed too much about the rancher, and this wasn’t the time.