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“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered, pulling back just enough to look up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “You must think I’m losing my mind.”

I reached up to brush the tears from her cheeks, noting how she leaned into the touch despite herself. “I think you’re exhausted and overwhelmed and dealing with more than anyone should have to handle alone.”

Before I could say more, Caleb started fussing from the couch, and her attention instantly shifted.

“I need to get him.” She moved past me quickly, her focus entirely on our son.

She lifted Caleb from his carrier with practiced ease. The transformation was immediate—so much of her tension melted away as soon as she had him in her arms.

“Hey, baby boy,” she murmured, swaying slightly to soothe him. “Mommy’s here.”

I stood there watching them, trying to piece together what I was seeing. The old injuries Faith had found. Piper’s obvious exhaustion and malnourishment. The way she’d stolen formula rather than ask for help. Her terror at the thought of leaving Caleb with anyone.

It painted a picture of someone who’d been hurt, badly and repeatedly. Someone who’d learned not to trust, not to depend on others. But beyond that, I was just guessing.

“We’re not going to worry about jobs right now,” I said finally. “Your only responsibility is to take care of yourself and Caleb.”

She looked up at me, still cradling our son against her chest. “And you’re okay with that? With us just…staying here?”

“I’m okay with it.” What I wasn’t okay with was not knowing what had happened to her, what she was afraid of, why she looked at me sometimes like she expected me to hurt her. But pushing for answers wasn’t going to help either of us.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I know this isn’t what you expected.”

“No,” I agreed. “It’s not. But that doesn’t mean it’s bad. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

It was the only choice we had.

Chapter 10

Lachlan

The familiar warmthof Draper’s Tavern wrapped around me as I pushed through the heavy wooden door. Pool balls cracked against each other from the back corner, and someone’s laugh—too loud, probably three beers in—cut through the general din of conversation. The wooden floor stuck slightly under my boots where someone had spilled something sweet.

I had a son.

The thought slammed into me again, making my chest tight. My hands actually trembled as I shoved them deep into my pockets. Three days. Three days of staring at Caleb’s face and seeing my own eyes looking back. Three days of watching Piper move through my house like a ghost, clutching our child like someone might snatch him away.

Ourchild. Jesus.

Behind the bar, Marcus caught my eye and raised an eyebrow in question. I nodded, and he started pulling a pint without aword. The glass was cold against my palm when he slid it across, condensation already beading on the surface.

“Lach! There you are!”

Beckett’s voice carried across the tavern. I turned to see him at a corner table with Lucas and Hunter. My shoulders tensed. Part of me wanted to take my beer and disappear, find some dark corner to sort through the mess in my head. The anger that kept bubbling up at odd moments—while brushing my teeth, making coffee, watching Piper feed Caleb. Fury at her for running, for stealing, for keeping my son from me.

But these men were brothers in every way that mattered. I forced my feet to move.

“Look who finally emerges from hibernation.” Hunter’s sharp gaze tracked over me, cataloging everything. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks. Really needed to hear that.” I dropped into the empty chair hard enough to make it creak.

“Seriously, though, where’ve you been?” Beckett leaned back, studying me. “Jenny said you took personal time a couple days ago. Thought she was going to fall over from shock.”

“Something came up.”

Lucas set down his paperwork. “The kind of something that has you white-knuckling that glass?”

I looked down. My knuckles were indeed white around the pint glass. I forced my grip to loosen, took a long pull of beer that tasted like sawdust in my mouth.