Page 12 of Montana Justice

Lachlan

I’d worn a path in the hardwood floors between the kitchen and living room by the time Dr. Rankine’s examination of Piper had stretched past the thirty-minute mark. Each creak of the floorboards upstairs made me pause, listening for voices, for some indication of what was happening.

Caleb slept peacefully in his carrier on the coffee table, completely oblivious to my anxiety.

Piper had brought him out here after Dr. Rankine had examined him.

He looked so small, so vulnerable, and the protective instinct that had slammed into me yesterday hit fresh.

This was my son. Mine . And if something was seriously wrong with Piper—if she was sicker than I’d realized—what would happen to him?

The thought made my chest tight. I’d been a father for less than twenty-four hours, and I was already terrified of screwing it up.

Footsteps on the stairs made me freeze mid-pace. Dr. Rankine appeared in the doorway, an old-fashioned medical bag in hand and her expression carefully neutral in that way doctors perfected when they had difficult news to deliver.

“Is Piper okay?” The words came out rougher than I’d intended.

“She’ll be out in a few minutes. She gave me permission to discuss details with you.” Faith settled into the chair across from where Caleb was sleeping and smiled at him. “The good news is that there’s nothing seriously wrong medically.”

Thank God. Relief flooded through me, but something in her tone kept me on edge. “But?”

“She’s exhausted. Severely so. And she’s dealing with what I’d call classic new-mother syndrome—overwhelming stress, anxiety about caring for the baby, self-doubt about whether she’s doing everything right.

” Faith’s gaze shifted to Caleb, her expression softening briefly before returning to business.

“She was particularly concerned about her milk production.”

Something in my chest eased at that. The fact that Piper was worried about feeding Caleb properly told me her priorities were in the right place, at least when it came to our son.

“Is it a problem?”

“It’s not ideal, obviously, but it’s not a problem. And, like I assured her, it’s not very uncommon when a mother is under extreme stress or not getting proper nutrition.”

“Is that why she collapsed yesterday?”

“Partially. Her body’s been running on empty for longer than is sustainable. When you add the stress of caring for an infant, and…” Faith paused, studying my face. “Lachlan, I need to ask—what do you know about Piper’s recent history? Where she’s been, what her living situation has been?”

Ice settled in my stomach. “Not much. She showed up yesterday out of nowhere. Why?”

Faith was quiet for a long moment, clearly choosing her words carefully. “I found evidence of old injuries. Healed fractures, scar tissue consistent with repeated trauma. Some of it looks to be several years old.”

I remembered those bruises on Piper’s ribs a year ago that she’d claimed were from falling down stairs. And the way she’d flinched when I’d touched her back at the tavern, how she’d moved like someone accustomed to pain. My teeth clenched.

“How old are we talking?”

“Hard to say exactly without X-rays, but I’d estimate the pattern goes back years.

Multiple incidents. Some had to have been from when she was a child or teen.

” Faith’s voice was gentle but firm. “The good news is that I didn’t find any recent injuries or fresh bruises.

Whatever situation she was in before, she’s been out of it for at least a couple months. ”

So, right around the time Caleb would have been born. Had becoming a mother finally given her the strength to leave whatever hell she’d been living in?

I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Did you ask her about it?”

“I tried. She deflected, said she was clumsy, had some bad falls over the years.” Faith’s expression told me exactly what she thought of that explanation—the same thing I’d thought of it.

“Lachlan, I’ve seen enough domestic violence cases to recognize the signs.

Whatever she’s been through, it was significant and prolonged. ”

I clenched my hands into fists at my sides. I had no doubt the abuse had been happening when she’d lived in Garnet Bend when she was younger. And, like so many who suffered from abuse as a child, it looked like Piper had fallen into familiar patterns as an adult.

“How can I help her with her current health?” That was what I needed to focus on now.

“Rest. Proper nutrition. And stress reduction, though I realize that’s easier said than done.

” Faith pulled a small prescription pad from her bag and scribbled something quickly.

“I’m prescribing a vitamin supplement with extra iron.

She’s borderline anemic, which explains some of the fatigue and dizziness. ”

I took the prescription, my mind churning through implications. “What else?”

“Time. And patience. Trauma like this doesn’t heal overnight, and new mothers often feel like they’re failing, even under the best circumstances.

” Faith closed her medical bag with a decisive snap.

“She’s going to need support, but she’s also going to need space to feel safe.

Don’t push for information she’s not ready to give. ”

The warning was clear enough. Whatever secrets Piper was carrying, forcing them out of her wasn’t going to help anyone.

“I need to ask—what’s your relationship to Piper? Are you family? A friend? Is this professional interest or personal? I’m trying to understand the support system she has in place.”

There was no point in dancing around it. “Caleb is my son.”

Faith’s eyebrows rose slightly. “I see. And how long have you known about Caleb?”

“Since yesterday.”

“That’s…quite an adjustment for everyone involved. Congratulations?”

I looked over at Caleb. “Yes, definitely congratulations are in order. Surprised, yes. But not unhappy.”

“Then congratulations with no question mark.” Faith stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’m going to take off. She should be out in just a second.”

“Thank you, Faith. I owe you one.”

I didn’t know her very well. She’d moved to Garnet Bend just over a year ago, just before I became sheriff. Kept mostly to herself. And, if I wasn’t mistaken, had secrets of her own.

She smiled. “Being one of the first people able to congratulate you on being a father is thanks enough.”

We shook hands, and she turned toward the door.

“Oh, and one more thing. Piper asked me specifically about breastfeeding versus formula feeding. I assured her that while breastfeeding has benefits, formula is perfectly adequate nutrition for babies. A lot of mothers put unnecessary pressure on themselves about this, especially when they’re dealing with other stressors—Piper definitely is.

She was almost hysterical about it. I assured her that Caleb looks absolutely fine. ”

After Faith left, I stood in my living room staring at the prescription in my hand, trying to process everything I’d learned. Years of abuse. Old fractures and scar tissue. The kind of systematic violence that broke people down piece by piece.

No wonder Piper looked at me like she expected me to hit her when I’d confronted her about the stolen formula. No wonder she’d flinched away from my touch.

The soft sound of footsteps on the stairs made me look up. Piper appeared in the doorway, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and her face still pale. She’d changed into different clothes—jeans that hung loose on her frame and a sweater that looked like it had seen better days.

I held up the prescription, watching her face for any reaction. “Here’s the prescription for some vitamins with iron. We can get it filled here in town.”

“She said I was just tired. That this sort of thing happened to new moms. Plus, postpartum depression and stuff….” She trailed off, wrapping her arms around herself in a gesture that was becoming familiar.

“Hey, what matters right now is that you and Caleb are both okay.” I moved closer, slowing when she tensed slightly as the distance between us shrank. “The important thing is that you’re both healthy.”

“Yeah.” She stared down at the ground.

“Piper.” I waited until she looked at me. “You and Caleb can stay here as long as you need. I meant what I said yesterday.”

“How can you trust me after last time?”

The short answer was, I didn’t . But that didn’t need to be said out loud. “You made a mistake. But I know you were in some sort of bad situation. Plus, things have changed now. I’m not going to kick you and my child out in the cold over $300 and a coat.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“So you’ll stay? No running off again?”

“Yes, we’ll stay. I need help.” She stared at the floor as the words came out.

Maybe I was a fool, maybe she was playing me once more, but the need to comfort her was almost overwhelming. “We all need help sometimes. I’m glad you came back here.”

She looked up. “Yeah. Because of…Caleb.”

“Hell yeah, I’m thankful to know my son. But you’re his mother, so you’re important too. To him. To me.”

I definitely wasn’t going to admit how much I’d thought about that night with her over the past year.

Yeah, I’d been pissed, and even hurt, but that hadn’t mattered one fucking bit to my subconscious when it had woken me up in the middle of the night, hard as stone, thinking about Piper and how her body had felt.

My dick evidently didn’t care if she was trustworthy or not.

Subject change time. “I’m sure we could help you find a job in town. Something flexible that works for your situation.”

The change in her was instantaneous and terrifying. All the color drained from her face, and she took a step backward like I’d struck her. “A job?” Her voice cracked on the words.

“Nothing immediate. Just eventually, when you’re ready?—”

“No.” The word came out sharp, panicked. “I can’t leave Caleb with someone else. I can’t. I want to have him with me. I need to?—”

I held up my hands, confused by the intensity of her reaction. “Hey, it’s okay. I just meant?—”

“You don’t understand.” She cut me off, her breathing shallow and rapid. “I can’t leave him. Not even for a few hours. Something could happen, someone could?—”

“Hey.” I moved toward her slowly, noting how she tracked my every movement like she was ready to flee. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about work.”

“I just can’t.” Tears were starting to gather in her eyes now. “He’s so little, and I don’t know anyone here, and what if something happened while I was gone?”

The explanation sounded reasonable enough—new-mother anxiety was a real thing. But something about the depth of her panic felt like more than normal worry.

“Piper, breathe.” I kept my voice calm, nonthreatening. “Nobody’s going to make you leave Caleb before you’re ready.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, that defensive gesture that was becoming familiar. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being ridiculous. It’s just…”

“It’s not ridiculous. He’s your baby. Of course you don’t want to leave him. You’re a good mom. You would never leave him.”

Instead of calming her down, the words seemed to break something open inside her. Her face crumpled, and she burst into tears—not the quiet tears from before, but gut-wrenching sobs that shook her whole body.

I couldn’t stop myself. I pulled her into my arms, and she didn’t resist this time, collapsing against my chest like she’d been holding herself together through sheer force of will.

“Hey. It’s okay.” I held her as she cried, one hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. Whatever this was—postpartum depression, exhaustion, trauma from whatever she’d been through—she needed to let it out.

She fisted her hands in my shirt as she sobbed against my chest, and I could feel how thin she’d gotten, how fragile she felt in my arms. How long had she been carrying all this alone?

“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.