“Do you want me to—?” he started.
I shook my head. “No. I got it.”
Jojo sidled up next, poking at the paperwork like it was an exotic animal. “He looks just like you,” he said, marveling, like this was the most magical thing he’d ever seen. “But also not. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” I said. I did. I knew exactly what he meant.
The silence lasted a long time, long enough for the baby to drift off, mouth slack and head heavy against my chest. The only thing keeping me upright was the feel of his weight, the warmth bleeding through both our shirts.
I read the letter again. This time, I let it punch all the way in. The handwriting—controlled, no flourishes, each letter the same careful height—told its own story: somebody desperate not to lose control. Somebody who’d run out of options.
I thought about all the things Liam could have written instead. All the ways he could have asked for help. But the truth was, I got it. You want to protect your kid, even if it means doing something that’ll break your own damn heart.
I traced the edge of the photo with my thumb, then tucked it back into the envelope with the birth certificate and the letter. Jojo watched, eyes wide, as I zipped the package into the inside pocket of my jacket.
“Are you okay?” Jasper asked, finally.
I wanted to say no. I wanted to say I was scared out of my mind, and maybe mad as hell, and definitely in no shape to be anyone’s father, not even for a minute. But I just looked down at Emilio, at the way his fingers flexed in sleep, and nodded.
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Nobody called me on it.
Rawley clapped me on the shoulder, not gentle. “You need backup, you let us know. We’ve dealt with worse.”
I snorted, but there was no venom in it. “Not sure this qualifies as ‘worse.’”
“Yeah, well. Jury’s out.”
Jojo hovered close, eyes trained on the baby. “Can I—?” he asked.
“Knock yourself out,” I said, and held Emilio out for him to see. Jojo didn’t take him, just put a finger in the kid’s tiny palm, watching as it curled reflexively around him.
“He’s really here,” Jojo whispered. “Like, for real.”
“Yeah,” I said again. “He’s for real.”
The baby started to fuss, just a little, a warning blip. Instinct had me bouncing him, side to side, a rhythm I didn’t know I remembered until it came out of my bones.
Jasper’s eyes flicked to mine, reading something I wasn’t ready to say out loud. “You want to call it a night?” he offered, like I could just go back to sleep and the world wouldn’t be completely different in the morning.
I shook my head. “I’m good.”
Nobody pushed. Rawley went to check the locks, Jojo started making tea, Jasper hovered close enough to catch the baby if I dropped him, but not so close I’d have to tell him to back off.
I wandered to the front window, Emilio pressed to my chest, and looked out over the porch where he’d been left. The world was still pitch black, the kind of dark that made everything feel possible and also impossible at the same time.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t have a plan. Not a real one. I was making it up as I went along, which was either the worst idea I’d ever had or the best.
Behind me, the house was alive with the soft noises of the people I’d somehow collected—my weird, hand-me-down family. I thought about Liam, wherever he was, and wondered if he’d ever see this place, if he’d ever want to.
I whispered into the baby’s ear, voice low enough that only he could hear it. “Hey, kid. Welcome home.”
He made a tiny, contented noise, and I held on tight.
The sun wouldn’t rise for hours, but I didn’t need it to. The world was already brighter than it had been in years.
Tomorrow would be soon enough.
