Page 137 of A Little Crush
Reading my expression, he smiles. “Don’t worry, Squeaks. I already know.”
“Know?”
Seriously, what is happening?
“Cornered Jax after the game earlier today.” Grinning, Uncle Macklin drops his voice low. “Told him to keep you in the dark as payback. But don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
Secret? How does he know about our secret? I thought we were hiding it well, or at least,relativelywell.
Weren’t we?
I want to ask what he’s talking about, but I can’t convince my tongue to work, let alone my vocal cords. Instead, I stand there in stunned silence.
He knows?
He knows.
Shit.
What does this mean? And is Jaxon okay with it? I mean, he seems okay with it, but making assumptions is the last thing I was raised to do. What if he’s not okay with it? I don’t know. I don’t know, but I’m really confused, and if Uncle Mack wanted to knock me off kilter and dish me up some solid payback for keeping him—and the rest of the family—in the dark, he’s nailing it.
The big butthead.
Giving Jax his attention, Macklin claps his meaty hands and reaches for Poppy. “How’s our Pops doin’?”
“She’s good,” Jaxon answers. “Just had a bottle. Should be ready for bed in a few minutes. And don’t mind Hades. He’ll hang outside her bedroom door as soon as you put Pops in her crib.”
“Wait, are you babysitting?” I ask.
“Figured you could use a night off,” Macklin explains.
A night off? Why would I—thenanny—need a night off? Oh, because our secret’s safe with him. Right. How could I forget?
Closing my gaping mouth, I ask, “What if she starts crying?”
“I know how to handle a baby,” he reminds me. “Raised a few of them and everything.”
“Well, yeah, but Poppy…” I cringe as Jaxon hands her off to Macklin and she starts fussing right away.
With a low laugh, Macklin starts shifting on his feet, swaying from side to side as he pats her back softly. He’s completely unbothered and in his element in a way only a good parent can be. “I’m aware Pops has her favorites. Don’t worry. She’ll calm down.”
And maybe she will, but the unproven assumption doesn’t ease my anxiety. Quite the opposite, in fact. Panic rises in my chest as her bottom lip wobbles. As her tiny face scrunches and her skin reddens with every squeal of anguish. I’ve never liked seeing a baby sad, but Poppy? This is torture. Digging my fingernails into my palms, I challenge, “And if she doesn’t calm down?”
Mack looks down at the bag hanging by his side that I hadn’t noticed before now. “Just invested in some noise-canceling headphones, and she’s set to go to sleep in a few minutes. I’ll be fine. And so will she,” he promises. “Besides, if she doesn’t calm down in fifteen, I have both your numbers, remember?”
He gives me a look that somehow rides the line between amusement, confidence, and a sprinkling of patience, though I don’t know if it’s because I’m fighting back on the proposition of a night off or if it’s because he’s channeling his inner monk in hopes of feeding the same energy to the baby in his arms.
Regardless, the man makes a good point. He does have our numbers, and it’s not like we’re going far. We could be back in ten minutes. Five, if we go somewhere close by. Even so, Macklin could have a thousand good points, and none of them would ease my growing anxiousness. I stare at Poppy on his hip. The way she leans away from him. The way she throws her head back. The way she flails her arms. It’s soul-crushing. Helpless, I tap my fingers against my outer thigh.
One, two, three.Pause.One, two, three.Pause.One, two, three.Pause.
Hades bumps his nose against the side of my knee, snapping me out of my spiral, or at least attempting to.
Turning to Jax, I beg, “Jax.”
“She’ll be okay.” His confidence surprises me, though it probably shouldn’t. He’s Poppy’s dad. He knows her better than anyone. And this isn’t his first rodeo, either. Not when it comes to knowing what’s best for Poppy and what she can and can’t handle.
“Go,” Uncle Mack urges.
