"But there's a lot more to parenting than a nicely decorated room. Kids need love and discipline and boundaries, and most of all they want someone to spend time with them."
I nod slowly, trying not to let her words overwhelm me. "That's fine. I can do all that."
"Because I'm wondering if you even know what boundaries are."
She looks at me pointedly, and I turn sheepish. "I'm sorry if I come on strong, Alana. In my line of work, I'm used to action and going after what you want."
She leans against the doorframe. "What will you do for work now?"
"I've got contacts on the outside. A buddy of mine is opening a veterans’ center. There might be work for me there."
She nods and makes some notes on her clipboard. "If this was a proper inspection, I'd need to see your bedroom."
"I thought you'd never ask."
She rolls her eyes, and I'm struck by how pretty she is.
I raise my hands. "I know you've told me you're not interested, even though I think that's a lie, but why? Really why?"
She pauses and turns to me. "I have a no dating policy. It's not you, Amos. It's dating in general. While I'm doing this job, I don't date."
"I don't understand. Why deny yourself?"
She takes a long breath as if deciding to tell me something or not.
"I'm not just a caseworker; I take in foster kids."
"Oh." She's a fucking saint as well as gorgeous. "If you're trying to put me off, it's not working, because I just fell for you a little bit more. A lot more, actually."
She smiles. "You're sweet, Amos. But I have to put the kids first. Always. And if that means not dating, then that's what I'll do. I can't have strange men hanging around the house, and I can't get into anything. There are too many kids that need me."
"I get it, but don't deny yourself your needs as well, Alana."
She shakes her head. "You'll understand when you have Sam. When you have a little person relying on you, when you're the only person in the world that they've got, it doesn't feel like a sacrifice."
She folds her arms over her clipboard and pushes open the door at the end of the hall. "This your room?"
I nod numbly, realizing again how ill-equipped I am for this gig. I know about sacrifice; I was ready to lay down my life for my country. But I also loved my job. I loved going on missions and the adrenaline burst of facing danger. But parenting seems like something else. It's not taking action; it's putting someone else first. It's a different type of sacrifice.
"This room seems a little cramped."
She eyes the large PC on the desk that I've pushed into the corner. With my comfy gaming chair, there's just enough room to squeeze between it and the bed.
"I'm not giving up my gaming PC." I fold my arms over my chest.
Gaming is my escape, and it got me through dark times in the military. I'm pretty sure I'll need to unwind once I become a pseudo-parent.
"You don't need to," she assures me. "You're going to need something to escape to."
I frown at her words. "You make it sound like a jail sentence. I've been in the military; I've been in some dangerous situations up against some of the most dangerous men in the world. Don't you think I can handle it?"
She gives me a pitying smile and pats my shoulder. "Amos, this is parenting. There's no mission in the world that can prepare you."
I swallow hard, pushing down the fear. I've faced enemies on every continent. Why the fuck am I freaking out about this?
"Don't worry. I've booked you for parenting classes starting tonight. You got the registration, right?"
"Yeah." I scratch my hand over my stubble. "It may be the most important training I've ever done."
