Page 28 of Montana Justice

“She said I was just tired. That this sort of thing happened to new moms. Plus, postpartum depression and stuff….” She trailed off, wrapping her arms around herself in a gesture that was becoming familiar.

“Hey, what matters right now is that you and Caleb are both okay.” I moved closer, slowing when she tensed slightly as the distance between us shrank. “The important thing is that you’re both healthy.”

“Yeah.” She stared down at the ground.

“Piper.” I waited until she looked at me. “You and Caleb can stay here as long as you need. I meant what I said yesterday.”

“How can you trust me after last time?”

The short answer was,I didn’t. But that didn’t need to be said out loud. “You made a mistake. But I know you were in some sort of bad situation. Plus, things have changed now. I’m not going to kick you and my child out in the cold over $300 and a coat.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“So you’ll stay? No running off again?”

“Yes, we’ll stay. I need help.” She stared at the floor as the words came out.

Maybe I was a fool, maybe she was playing me once more, but the need to comfort her was almost overwhelming. “We all need help sometimes. I’m glad you came back here.”

She looked up. “Yeah. Because of…Caleb.”

“Hell yeah, I’m thankful to know my son. But you’re his mother, so you’re important too. To him. To me.”

I definitely wasn’t going to admit how much I’d thought about that night with her over the past year. Yeah, I’d been pissed, and even hurt, but that hadn’t mattered one fucking bit to my subconscious when it had woken me up in the middle of the night, hard as stone, thinking about Piper and how her body had felt.

My dick evidently didn’t care if she was trustworthy or not.

Subject change time. “I’m sure we could help you find a job in town. Something flexible that works for your situation.”

The change in her was instantaneous and terrifying. All the color drained from her face, and she took a step backward like I’d struck her. “A job?” Her voice cracked on the words.

“Nothing immediate. Just eventually, when you’re ready?—”

“No.” The word came out sharp, panicked. “I can’t leave Caleb with someone else. I can’t. I want to have him with me. I need to?—”

I held up my hands, confused by the intensity of her reaction. “Hey, it’s okay. I just meant?—”

“You don’t understand.” She cut me off, her breathing shallow and rapid. “I can’t leave him. Not even for a few hours. Something could happen, someone could?—”

“Hey.” I moved toward her slowly, noting how she tracked my every movement like she was ready to flee. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about work.”

“I just can’t.” Tears were starting to gather in her eyes now. “He’s so little, and I don’t know anyone here, and what if something happened while I was gone?”

The explanation sounded reasonable enough—new-mother anxiety was a real thing. But something about the depth of her panic felt like more than normal worry.

“Piper, breathe.” I kept my voice calm, nonthreatening. “Nobody’s going to make you leave Caleb before you’re ready.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, that defensive gesture that was becoming familiar. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being ridiculous. It’s just…”

“It’s not ridiculous. He’s your baby. Of course you don’t want to leave him. You’re a good mom. You would never leave him.”

Instead of calming her down, the words seemed to break something open inside her. Her face crumpled, and she burst into tears—not the quiet tears from before, but gut-wrenching sobs that shook her whole body.

I couldn’t stop myself. I pulled her into my arms, and she didn’t resist this time, collapsing against my chest like she’d been holding herself together through sheer force of will.

“Hey. It’s okay.” I held her as she cried, one hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. Whatever this was—postpartum depression, exhaustion, trauma from whatever she’d been through—she needed to let it out.

She fisted her hands in my shirt as she sobbed against my chest, and I could feel how thin she’d gotten, how fragile she felt in my arms. How long had she been carrying all this alone?

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