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“Oh God.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Piper stirred at the sound, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she looked confused, disoriented. Then she saw me holding the baby, and her face went white.

“This isn’t your cousin’s baby, is it?”

She stared at me for a long moment, and I watched the last of her defenses crumble. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she shook her head.

“No. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you outright. He’s yours. Caleb is yours. Ours.”

The confirmation hit me like a physical blow, even though I’d already known. Had felt it in my bones the moment I’d looked into those familiar eyes.

I had a son.

“But you said he was five months old.” My voice sounded strange to my own ears, like it was coming from very far away.

“I… They… He…was born early.” She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “Preemie. Nothing dangerous, just was a little before they…wanted him to come.”

Ice flooded my veins. “Is he okay now? Any complications? Problems?”

“He’s fine.” She sat up straighter, her voice gaining strength when it came to defending her child. Our child. “Small for his age, but healthy. The doctors said he’ll catch up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me right away?” The question came out harsher than I’d intended, but I couldn’t help it. “When you found out you were pregnant, why didn’t you?—”

“How?” Her voice cracked. “I’d stolen from you and run away while you were sleeping. What was I supposed to do, show up on your doorstep and say ‘Hey, sorry I robbed you. And guess what, we’re having a baby’?”

She had a point, but it didn’t make the hurt any less sharp. “You could have tried.”

“I thought about it.” She drew her knees up to her chest, making herself small. “Every day for months, I thought about it. But I didn’t have anything to offer you except more problems. I didn’t even have a place to live.”

The baby—Caleb—made a soft sound against my chest, and I looked down at him again. Those eyes, so familiar and yet so new.

My son. Jesus Christ, I was somebody’sfather.

“Where have you been living?” I asked.

She looked away. “Nowhere. Everywhere. I’ve been moving around a lot.”

“With a premature baby.”

She flinched. “I’ve been careful. I’ve taken good care of him.”

I could see that she had. Despite everything—despite being broke and homeless and obviously exhausted—Caleb looked healthy and well-cared-for. Clean clothes, properly fed, obviously loved. She’d been putting his needs above her own, which explained why she looked like she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in months.

“Piper.” I waited until she looked at me. “Where do you plan to go from here? Do you have a plan at all?”

Her face crumpled. “No. I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have any money, I don’t have a job, I don’t have…” She trailed off, wrapping her arms around herself. “I came back here because I was hoping maybe you’d help. Even though you hate me. I know I don’t deserve it after what I did, but I was hoping…”

“I don’t hate you.”

The words came out before I could think them through, but they were true. I was angry, yes. Hurt and confused and completely blindsided by everything that had happened in the past few hours. But I didn’t hate her.

I didn’t trust her either.

Caleb shifted in my arms, making soft baby sounds, and something primal and protective stirred in my chest. This was my son. My child. Whatever else was happening here, whatever lies or half-truths Piper might be telling, this baby was mine.

And I wasn’t going to let him be homeless and hungry because his mother had made some bad choices.

“I want you to stay,” I heard myself say.