Page 11 of Fighting His Fate
“I told you, I can’t take them. Like you said, I’m not father material.”
It was what she’d been pushing for, but now the alternative weighed heavily on her mind, the institutionalized existence that awaited the boys an even less attractive option than being in Champion’s care. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
He stopped and turned to face her. “Never apologize for calling a spade a spade.” He shrugged. “Besides, the boys have a step-grandmother out there somewhere. She’s the next of kin, not me. Social services will find her and that will be that.”
“But there are no temporary foster homes available. Is this woman local?”
“Beats me.” He turned and walked away.
One of the babies cried from inside the lounge, and she longed to go to him and scoop him up like so much candy. The moment was slipping through her fingers, her chance to intercede on the boys’ behalf nearly out of reach entirely. “You could take them on temporarily,” she called, surprising herself.
What was she doing? Champion was not a fit guardian, but the alternative was even worse. If she hadn’t pointed out his deficiencies, he’d be packing those boys into his truck right now. And wouldn’t that be better than this?
He opened his mouth and she held up her hand. “Hear me out. Just watch them until they find the grandmother.”
“That could take forever.”
She shrugged. “Then find her yourself.”
“No.”
Frustration, fatigue, and anxiety formed a heady mix. She was powerless to hold her tongue. “You selfish, arrogant fool.”
His eyes narrowed. “What did you call me?”
“You heard me. Heaven forbid these boys might cramp your lifestyle for a few days, make it so you actually had to do some little piece of good in the world for a change, worry about someone other than yourself.”
He advanced quickly, pointing his finger at her chest. “Listen, Nurse Ratchet, I know damn well I don’t have what those kids need, which is why I’m trying to bow out gracefully. But you keep chucking insults at me like I’ve done something to piss you off, which frankly is starting to make me angry.”
She held her ground. “They need you.”
He growled, one hand on either side of his head. “You are infuriating! Five minutes ago, you wanted nothing more than for me to walk out that door. Now I’m doing it and you’re begging me to take them? I’m not prepared to take care of two babies. I don’t know the first thing about children.”
“You feed them when they’re hungry, you change them when they’re wet. What you don’t do is take a big step back when you are needed. You don’t run away from the helpless and the weak because they might cramp your style.”
“I don’t know how to take care of babies. I don’t have any children, I don’t want any children, and I’m not taking those boys home with me.”
Grace closed the distance between her and Brett, poking him in the chest as she spoke. “Those children need you. I, of all people, realize that’s like the punch line to a terrible joke, but nonetheless that’s where we are. You can’t just walk away from that.”
“Watch me.”
He turned to leave and she shoved his back, pulse racing. “Don’t you give a shit about anyone but yourself?”
“Where do you get off acting like you know me? We share a wall. That’s it. And no matter how many times my headboard bounced against it, you don’t know jack shit about me, lady.”
“You’re right. Up until just now, I didn’t know you at all. But if you leave those children here for the state to take care of, then everything I just said about you is true.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “So what, I just take two babies home, not knowing how to take care of them? Do you really think that’s a good idea? I don’t know how to hold them, I don’t know what they eat. But here you are, Florence freaking Nightingale, ready to hand off two tiny human beings to the one guy in the room who says he can’t handle it.”
“Then I’ll help you.”
She held her breath, the words rushing past her lips like fire through a hot, dry field. She had plans tonight, she reminded herself—possibly the biggest plans of her whole life—and none ofthisfigured intothatplan at all.
But this was her Achilles’ heel, the one spot where she was most vulnerable. Children. Loss. Safety. Surely John would understand. “I’ll help you,” she repeated, not giving herself a chance to talk herself out of it. “But please, don’t leave them behind like they don’t even matter.”
“How are you going to help me? Are you going to wake up with them whenever they wake up and feed them whenever they need to be fed and change the diapers when they’re dirty? Because if you don’t, then you are asking more than I can give.”
“I live right next door. I don’t need to move in with you, for God’s sake, just to help you take care of two children.”
