Page 9

FIVE

ALEJANDRA

I stand at the kitchen counter, my fingers idly tracing the rim of my coffee cup.

My eyes shift back to Gage, his broad frame moving with purpose as he packs the last of his gear.

The hum of the kitchen light fills the space, but the tension drowns everything else out.

Watching him prepare to leave, knowing he’s taking his first real step away from Zoe, it feels.

.. different and strange. It feels heavier than any other deployment I’ve dealt with.

His boots thud softly against the hardwood floor as he paces back and forth, grabbing his jacket, adjusting his boots, and checking the zip of his ruck. He doesn’t need to check it again—he’s done this a hundred times, if not more—but I don’t think he’s doing it for the bag.

I want to reassure him it’s okay. That it’ll be fine. That Zoe will be fine. But the words don’t come easily. How do you reassure someone when they’re worried about something you can’t promise won’t happen?

I would never let anything happen to her.

I watch as Gage re-packs his bag, his movements efficient and practiced. He’s leaving for a short field exercise, something to help his team work better together, and I’ll be here with Zoe. I feel a mix of emotions: excitement to be taking on more responsibility but also a hint of nervousness.

What if something goes wrong? Not that I’m unsure of myself as her caregiver. I know I’m more than capable.

But what if something happens to him?

Would someone let me know?

Gage gives me a brief rundown of what he knows of the schedule and emergency contacts.

He gives me a number for Rebecca Morales, telling me she’s the wife of a friend and a unit member and will help if I need it.

I listen intently to everything he tells me.

On instinct, I rub my palms up and down my thighs, my nerves betraying me.

He seems to sense my unease and offers a reassuring smile.

“You’ll be fine, Alejandra,” he says. “You’re fantastic with her. Just remember to keep the doors locked and the phone nearby. Have you given more thought to keeping your gun on you, or at least accessible while you’re downstairs?”

“I have. I just think with some more practice, it would be good for me to keep it down here.”

“When I get back, if I have some extra time, I’ll bring you to the range on base so you can practice.

” Gage gives me a rare smile, one that’s going to stay ingrained in my brain the whole time he’s gone.

Living with this man has my poor vibrator getting a workout.

I’m just hoping he can’t hear me using it at night or when I’m in the shower.

Unlike the day I caught him after PT. I knew exactly what he was doing and the noises that came out of that man led me straight into his room.

To change the subject, I bring up Zoe. “Do you think you’ll have internet access wherever you’re going? It would be nice if you could video call her so that she can still see you.”

“It really depends on what they have planned for this field op. Sometimes we do and sometimes we’re radio silent.”

Zoe needs to keep that connection with her dad. It’s bad enough that he’s on active duty and can get called away at a moment’s notice. I won’t push this with him though, because ultimately it isn’t within his control.

I take a deep breath, folding my arms across my chest. “Is it really that bad out there? The training, I mean.”

He stops and looks up, his hand frozen in mid-motion, a look of something close to guilt flashing in his eyes before he masks it with a forced calm.

“It’s just a training exercise. But it’s going to be intense.

” His jaw tightens, and I know he’s trying to push back the anxiety that’s brewing under his surface.

It’s not just about the training. He’s worried about leaving Zoe.

“I’ll be fine, Gage,” I say, my voice a little firmer than I intend. “She’ll be fine too.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but I catch the brief glance he throws my way.

It’s quick, but there’s a hesitancy in it, as if he’s not entirely sure.

I can’t blame him for that. I’m new to them.

Two weeks as Zoe’s nanny, and I know Gage doesn’t fully trust me yet.

Not in the way he trusts the people who’ve been in his life longer, not in the way he probably trusts the men on his team. I get it. Trust takes time.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice lower, more vulnerable than I’ve heard it. He doesn’t look at me as he continues to adjust things in his bag.

“I’m sure,” I say, even though the reassurance doesn’t feel as convincing as I want it to. I move toward him, standing by the door where he’s grabbing his blouse. I’m not sure what I’m trying to do here—comfort him or comfort myself.

He looks at me, his gaze steady but conflicted. “I don’t know if I can leave her. Not yet. Not with—” He pauses, staring at the floor for a moment, then meets my eyes again. “Not with you and her just getting to know each other.”

I swallow hard. I know this. I do. But hearing him voice it like that makes the knot in my stomach tighten.

He’s right to be cautious. There’s a reason he doesn’t trust me fully, and I can’t pretend to be offended by it.

The fact is, his world is dangerous. It’s unpredictable.

He’s always on edge, always ready for whatever is coming next.

And he’s handing his newborn daughter off to me.

I’m not her mother.

Not his wife or girlfriend.

Just someone he pays to care for her.

I reach for his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. I squeeze it, and my voice softens. “Gage... I’m not going to let anything happen to her. I promise.”

He stares at me for a long beat, his expression unreadable. His eyes flicker with hesitation, then soften as if he’s making a decision that’s not entirely his to make.

“You’re good with her. Better than I expected,” he says, his tone quiet but sincere.

“Thank you,” I murmur. “Look, I know you're hesitant. She is your daughter, Gage, and she just came into your life. You have every right to be worried.”

He exhales sharply, his breath catching for just a moment. “I don’t even trust myself with her sometimes.”

I tilt my head, trying to read him. “You love her,” I say softly. “You just want to make sure she’s safe. I’ve been around a lot of families and I can say with confidence that you are doing amazing.”

He nods, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, like a half-smile that doesn’t quite make it. “Yeah. It’s... harder than I thought it’d be. Leaving her.”

Gage looks down at his boots again, running a hand over his face like he’s trying to wipe away whatever thoughts are haunting him.

I can see the internal battle playing out in his mind.

But there’s nothing I can do to ease that—nothing but be here and stay steady for both of them.

I’ve worked with babies before and with older kids.

I’ve raised my younger siblings. But this is different.

This is Gage’s daughter. There’s so much more at stake here than just getting through the day without an accident.

His trust. His family. His peace of mind.

I walk to the window and peer outside at the sky, tinged with early morning light.

The neighborhood looks peaceful—too peaceful for all the weight that’s on us.

I’m not sure what’s waiting for me in the next few days.

I don’t know how to navigate this tightrope of responsibility without tripping up.

But I can’t let him see that. I can’t let him see that I’m freaking out inside.

That even if I’ve cared for children before, this feels like a whole new world.

Because this little girl means so much more to me than any other child I’ve helped care for.

When I turn back to him, Gage’s still standing there, his bag slung over one shoulder. He looks like he’s ready to leave, but I know he’s stuck. His eyes flicker to the clock on the wall, to the door, then back to me.

He already kissed her goodbye before coming downstairs this morning and I can tell he wants to go back upstairs to her nursery.

“I’ll check in whenever I can,” he says, but it’s not enough. His voice betrays the uncertainty still gnawing at him. I know he’s saying the words to reassure himself more than anything.

I walk toward him, stop just a few inches away, and put a hand on his arm. “I know you’re worried. But I’m good at this. I know what to do.”

He looks down at me, his lips tight, then nods slowly, like he’s convincing himself more than me. “I’ll be back soon. I’ll make sure to?—”

“I’ll take care of Zoe,” I cut him off gently. “Go. You’ll be back before you know it.”

I force a smile, but it feels too thin, too fragile, to be the reassurance he needs. His gaze drops to my lips, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s about to kiss me, but instead, he just exhales, letting the air leave his lungs in a slow, controlled release.

“I don’t know how I’m going to keep doing this,” he mutters, his voice rough.

“I know,” I reply softly. “But you will.”

He hesitates for a second longer, his hand still hovering over the door. Then, with a final, heavy sigh, he pulls it open. The air outside is cooler than I expected, with the promise of rain hanging in the morning sky. Gage looks back over his shoulder once more before stepping through the door.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he says, but I can hear the doubt lingering in his voice.

“We’ll be here.”

And with that, he’s gone. I stand there, watching the door close behind him, feeling the weight of his absence settle on my shoulders like a heavy coat I didn’t ask for.

I’ll be here. Caring for Zoe.

Keeping it together for him.

For myself.

But even as I tell myself that, I can’t shake the nagging thought that this isn’t the last time we’ll have this issue with leaving. And next time, it might be harder to send him off.

I stand by the door for a moment after Gage leaves, feeling the quiet of the house settle around me like a blanket.

The kind of quiet that’s almost too much, too heavy, when you’re not used to it.

But then I hear the soft murmur of Zoe’s cooing from the baby monitor, and it pulls me back into reality.

I move quickly, heading up the stairs, slipping out of my shoes before heading into her nursery and into the warm space where Zoe lies in her crib. Her little legs kick at the air and her eyes meet mine, and I smile, even though there’s a faint ache in my chest from Gage’s departure.

“Hey, baby girl,” I murmur as I rest my hands on the crib railing. “We’ve got this, huh?”

Zoe babbles in response, her hands reaching for the mobile above, and I laugh softly, pushing my worries aside for the moment.

I pick up the rattle that lies next to her and shake it in front of her, watching as her tiny fingers grasp at it, so intent on the noise.

The rhythm of her movements is calming, a reminder that things don’t always need to be complicated.

Just keep her fed, changed, and happy. Easy, right?

The morning passes in a blur of bottle feeds, diaper changes, and me humming lullabies. Zoe naps in her crib, her tiny form curled into the softness of the blanket, and for the first time today, I allow myself to breathe a little easier. She’s safe. She’s fine. We’re fine.

But as I sip my coffee, the phone rings. I glance at the caller ID— Tia Elena . My stomach tightens as I answer. “ Hola, Tia .”

“Alejandra,” she says, her voice warm but carrying a weight I know all too well. “ ?Cómo es el nuevo trabajo? Esta vez es una recién nacida, ?no? ”

“ Sí, un recién nacido. Una nina , se llama Zoé . Va bien. ?Está todo bien por ahí? ” I already know where this is going, but I let her say it.

There’s a pause on the other end. Then, in perfect English, “I need to ask something of you, mija . We’re struggling here. Juanita and Pedro need school supplies, and the bills... they’re piling up.”

I feel my pulse quicken; the guilt is squeezing tight in my chest. “How much do you need?”

"Well, the rent is six thousand pesos and another six hundred for food and supplies. Can you send it soon?”

I swallow hard, my mind already racing through the numbers in my head.

So she probably needs closer to five hundred dollars to have a little extra.

The last time I sent money, it was tight for me.

The job here, the pay is good but I don’t want to send everything all at once.

I also don’t want to say no, but the strain is already there in the lines of my voice.

“I don’t know, Tia. I’m still getting settled here.

Mr. Donovan is on a short deployment, and I’m handling Zoe alone. ..”

“I understand, mija, ” she interrupts gently, but I hear the unspoken weight in her words. I’m counting on you.

“Está bien, tía, lo enviaré esta noche.” I can’t let them go without. What kind of sister would I be.

We talk for a few more minutes, and when I hang up, my mind is a whirlwind.

I pull my knees up to my chest, staring out the window as the late morning light filters through the blinds.

My younger siblings— mi hermanita and mi hermanito —are depending on me.

They don’t understand the responsibility of this choice I’ve made or the sacrifices I’m making to send money all while still trying to build a life here.

I remember why I took this job. It wasn’t just for me. It was for them. They don’t have the same opportunities I do, and every cent I send back is a lifeline. I want to be the best sister I can be. I have to be.

Zoe shifts in her crib, waking from her nap, and I stand up quickly, brushing away the anxiety bubbling in my stomach. I can’t let this affect her. Not now. Not when Gage is already gone, when she’s already too young to understand the gravity of what’s happening behind the scenes.

But I also can’t ignore my family. The struggle is real, and I have to figure out a way to carry it all.

I pick Zoe up, letting her rest against my shoulder as I walk into the kitchen. “We’ve got this,” I whisper, more to myself than her. “We’ll figure it out.”