Page 23 of Montana Justice

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“Here. Both of you. I want you to stay here.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know yet. We’ll figure out the details as we go. But right now, you and Caleb need a safe place to be, and I need…” I looked down at the baby in my arms. “I need to wrap my head around the fact that I’m a father.”

Relief flooded her face so completely that I thought she might start crying again. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We’re going to have to figure out a lot of things. Legal stuff, practical stuff…” I trailed off as Caleb began to fuss more insistently. “Is he hungry?”

She nodded, color rising in her cheeks. “He eats every few hours. I can try to nurse him, but I haven’t been producing enough milk lately. That’s why I needed the formula.”

There was something in her voice, some hint of shame or embarrassment that made me think there was more to the story. But Caleb was getting more agitated, his soft fussing escalating toward actual crying.

“Will he need a bottle after you nurse him?”

“Probably.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “There’s a bottle in the diaper bag, and instructions are on the formula can.”

“Okay.” I handed Caleb back to her, trying not to notice how perfectly he fit in her arms. “You feed him as much as you can, and I’ll get the bottle ready.”

She nodded and headed toward the guest room with Caleb, leaving me standing in my living room trying to process everything that had just happened.

I had a son. An almost five-month-old son named Caleb who had my eyes and my…everything, probably. The resemblance was unmistakable once you knew to look for it.

In the kitchen, I found the formula can and read the instructions twice to make sure I got the measurements right. The diaper bag yielded a bottle that had seen better days but looked clean enough. I followed the directions carefully—boil water, let it cool, measure the powder, mix gently.

My first bottle for my son. Not exactly how I’d pictured this moment going, back when I’d imagined having kids someday. I’d always figured there’d be more preparation involved. Nursery furniture and baby books and months of anticipation.

The bottle was ready by the time I heard footsteps in the hallway. I looked up to see Piper approaching with Caleb still fussing in her arms.

“Any luck?”

She shook her head, that same embarrassed flush coloring her cheeks. “Not much. He’s still hungry.”

I held out the bottle, and she took it gratefully. The moment the silicone nipple touched Caleb’s lips, he latched on and began drinking eagerly, his little hands curling into fists against the bottle.

“There we go,” I murmured, watching him eat. “Better?”

Piper’s eyes filled with tears again as she watched our son. “Thank you. For everything. I know you didn’t sign up for any of this.”

Neither had she, I realized. Whatever had brought her back to Garnet Bend, whatever had driven her to steal formula and collapse in parking lots, she was just trying to take care of our child the best way she knew how.

I still had a thousand questions. Still didn’t trust her completely. Still wasn’t sure what the hell we were going to do about any of this.

But for right now, watching Piper feed our son in my kitchen while the last light of day faded outside the windows, it was enough.

Chapter 8

Lachlan

The coffeein my mug had gone cold hours ago, but I kept taking absent sips anyway, my mind churning through everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

I had a son. The thought hit me fresh every time, like a punch to the gut that somehow felt good and terrifying at the same time.Caleb. Those dark eyes that were so familiar, the way he’d settled against my chest like he belonged there.

But also, what the hell did I know about being a father?

This was not the way I’d planned it. Having a child hadn’t even been on my bingo card for anywhere in the near future, much less fuckingyesterday.

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