Читать книгу Texan's Baby - Barb Han - Страница 10

Chapter Four

By the time Dawson pulled into the hotel parking lot, Melanie was asleep in the backseat. He hated to wake her, so he just stared at her for a minute. All those old feelings—good feelings, like nights spent outdoors looking up at the sky and warmth—crashed with the new reality, the one where she’d betrayed him in the worst way.

She wasn’t the same person and neither was he. Her skin glowed and he figured something about motherhood had changed her. So much about her was different, especially in the way she carried herself. Her features had softened even more unless her son was threatened and then her protectiveness was written all over her stern gaze and determined stance.

On closer look, he’d noticed the dark circles under her eyes. It seemed she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in months, and based on his limited experience with a baby, he could see how that might happen. Dawson didn’t think he’d ever sleep again for worrying over his son, especially while the little guy was sick. Plus, everything about Mason seemed tiny and fragile.

The kid had a good set of lungs on him.

And Melanie seemed to think Mason was huge now. Dawson could only imagine what those first few months must’ve been like while he was even smaller.

“Where are we?” Melanie woke as soon as Dawson cut off the engine.

“We’re in a Dallas suburb. Figured there’d be grocery stores nearby where we could pick up supplies for the baby.”

She shook her head and blinked her eyes. “Okay. Just give me a second.”

Dawson opened Mason’s door and waited for her to unbuckle him. Working the car seat was a lesson for another day. He’d need to figure it out soon if he was going to take his son anywhere on his own. The learning curve on caring for a baby would be steep. He’d seen first-hand with his friend Dylan.

Melanie made it all look easy as she clicked a button and gently removed the straps to free their son.

Dawson reminded himself he’d only had two hours of practice, whereas she’d had the past eighteen months to adjust.

“You’re tired. I’ll carry the baby,” Dawson said. No matter how bad things were between him and Melanie, Mason had nothing to do with it. Dawson had no plans to make his son feel uncomfortable when his parents were around each other so he’d have to work on keeping his emotions in check.

“No, thanks. I got him.” Melanie scooped their son out of his seat fluidly. She had that same look in her eye that she did on the porch, too.

For now, Dawson wouldn’t argue. But she’d learn to give him an inch. Mason belonged to both of them and Dawson had no plans to let his son down in the way his own parents had done him.

Grinding his back teeth, he shouldered the diaper bag.

After ten minutes at the front desk, Dawson had a hotel room key in hand and the promise that a crib was being delivered to the room. He knew enough to make sure there was a fridge and a microwave, opting for an all-suite hotel rather than one with traditional rooms. The inside entry would ensure that Melanie and Mason were safe while Dawson ran out for supplies.

Their suite was on the second floor, another safety precaution he’d insisted on.

“This should give us a place to rest and think so we can figure out our next move.” He opened the door, allowing her and the baby in first.

“It might be safer for me and Mason if we go back to our apartment tomorrow. Sprigs doesn’t know where I live.”

He didn’t want to scare her, but he couldn’t let her take unnecessary risks with his child, either. “You’re stuck with me until they catch him.”

All hope that his comment would ease her concerns flew out the window with her exacerbated look. If possible, her stress levels seemed to increase. Hell on a stick. He hadn’t meant for that to happen. She had bigger ghosts from her past to be afraid of than him.

Mason stirred, spit out his pacifier and started crying again.

The sound was pitiful and caused Dawson’s heart to sink to his toes. He’d do just about anything to make it go away. Watching his son upset with no means to soothe him had never made Dawson feel more helpless in his life, not since...well...dammit...he couldn’t go there again about his sister.

Melanie was gently bouncing Mason while she sang the song from the car to him.

The place had everything they needed, including a bedroom with a door that closed, sealing off the room. He figured Melanie would appreciate that feature as much as he did about now. Especially if they had to stay put for a few days.

“Is he hungry? Does he need milk or formula?” Dawson had scooped up the pacifier and set it on the counter.

“No, he shouldn’t be. Babies cry when they don’t feel good.” She kissed Mason’s forehead. “He’s just telling us that whatever he has isn’t fun.”

Dawson stripped off his shirt and paced. He oversaw the logistics department for a major online retailer. He could handle this. He thought about his friend Dylan. There was a man who was the second least likely natural father material in their group and look how well he’d done since his daughter, Maribel, had come to live with him. To say the guy had changed drastically was a lot like saying a cow had turned into a dog.

Dawson mentally calculated the age difference between Maribel and Mason. She was three, so the two were about a year and a half apart. Thinking back, she’d come to live with her father when she was about six months older than Mason.

At least Dawson had a friend with experience at being thrown this curve ball. Dylan would be a great resource. Dawson needed to reach out to his friend when things settled down and he was able to spend time alone with his son. As protective as Melanie was, there was no risk she’d leave the two of them to their own resources before she had to.

As much as he didn’t like the idea of being forced to spend time with her after what she’d done, he wasn’t stupid. He would need her to help him get up to speed. Baby boys probably weren’t much different from girls, but Dawson was starting from ground zero with the whole parenting thing, and he needed all the help he could get.

A few minutes of rocking and singing later, and Mason had settled down enough to go back to sleep.

“What time is it?” Melanie asked, diverting her gaze from him as a soft knock came at the door.

If that noise woke the baby, the person on the other side of that hunk of wood had better run. A glance at Mason revealed that he still slept.

Dawson checked through the peephole and saw two men dressed in maintenance jumpsuits standing on the other side. No doubt the crib had arrived.

He opened the door slightly and put his finger to his lips.

One of the men, the one nearest the door, nodded his understanding and then turned to his buddy and repeated the gesture.

Dawson allowed them access.

“Where would you like this set up?” the lead man whispered.

Dawson deferred to Melanie. An act he was sure to repeat more than he cared to in the coming days, weeks, months.

And yet she looked just as sweet and pitiful as Mason with the boy snuggled against her chest. Dawson didn’t want to notice either of those things any more than he wanted to feel sorry for her. He did.

* * *

HAVING DAWSON AROUND fried Melanie’s nerves. Thank the stars he’d gone out for milk and baby food after he washed up and rinsed blood from his shirt. At least now she could breathe normally again—something that was impossible to do when he was in the room.

The maintenance workers had put together the crib. Thankfully, Dawson had stuck around until they’d left, and he was all she could think about since he walked out the door.

She’d given Mason a second dose of medicine according to the directions on the package.

He’d made a good point earlier, though. Why was Sprigs still obsessed with her? There had to be some underlying reason. If she could figure it out maybe she could make it stop. She understood why their other friends had been targeted. They’d been sitting on secrets that, pieced together, could’ve gotten Beckett Alcorn and Sprigs arrested a lot sooner and broken up the child abduction scheme.

But what had Melanie done?

Nothing.

She’d been careful not to encourage Sprigs. Then again, it wasn’t as if she’d remember something that had happened fifteen years ago. Good God, she could barely remember events from last week. Lack of sleep didn’t do good things to the memory. Or the brain. Or the body, she mused, looking down at her little pooch. Her stomach muscles hadn’t quite bounced back since she had the baby, and most of the time she didn’t care. It wasn’t as if she was trying to date.

Being in the room with Dawson had made her think about just how much she’d let herself go. Her hair was in a perpetual ponytail and she lived in yoga pants. She had to get dressed up for work, but that didn’t count. Forget makeup unless it was time to clock in.

Then she’d force herself into a pair of jeans, put on an actual bra and rotate her three good shirts. Money had been tight and all of hers had gone to taking care of Mason. Another thing she didn’t regret.

But speaking of clothes, she’d left her parents’ house in such a rush she hadn’t had a chance to grab any. Which was fine for now. At least she’d thrown on yoga pants when she heard the noise outside. Other than that, she had on a sleeping T-shirt and no bra.

And thinking about that was just a way of distracting herself from the very real possibility that Dawson would take her son away.

A part of her knew that he could never be that cruel, but if the shoe were on the other foot, what would she think about him?

She pushed the thought aside because she’d been trying to protect him.

Plus, there was no time to worry about that while she was hiding out from a crazy person—a man who stole kids.

A shudder ran through her bone-tired body. She’d been focused on the possibility of Dawson filing for sole custody, but there was another very real threat out there to her son. The Mason Ridge Abductor was more than one person, and the second half of that team seemed intent on harming her.

The door opened, causing her to jump.

“It’s me,” Dawson said, arms full of bags. “I got whole milk. That’s what he drinks, right?”

“Yeah, sorry, I should’ve been specific.”

“It’s fine. I looked it up on my cell. Apparently, you can learn just about everything on the internet.”

She couldn’t help herself so she laughed at his attempt at humor. She shouldn’t like the way it made him smile. At this point, she had no idea what his plans were and she had to protect her son at all costs. The thought of not being with him would end her—Mason was the only thing she’d thought about for two and a half years.

“I’ll help you put away the groceries,” she offered.

“Sit down. I got this.” He waved her off.

She bit back a yawn. When was the last time she’d really slept? Certainly not at her parents’ place. The idea had been good. Come back to Mason Ridge to help her friend while Abby took care of Mason in Houston. It was the first time she’d been away from him and she’d totally underestimated how much her heart would ache without him there.

A couple nights of sleep would help her be a better mother, she’d reasoned. Had any of that worked out the way she’d planned?

Only if tipping off his father to his existence was part of the plan.

Being away from her baby had only caused her to worry more about Mason, miss him and try to ignore the fact that his father, the man she’d never stopped loving, was sleeping right across the street. She’d known he was visiting because of his black SUV and a part of her had wished he’d been there because of his feelings for her even though she’d feared running into him, afraid of his questions. If he’d seen her face-to-face, would he realize something was different about her? Would he figure it out? Would he care?

Okay, so that last part had been answered with a resounding yes. But it wasn’t an emotion reserved for her, it was for Mason. There’d never been a doubt in her mind that if Dawson had known about Mason he would want to do the right thing and be involved. Because he was truly a good guy, he would most likely even propose marriage. In her hormonal state, she might’ve agreed. And then what? If Mason did have the gene, God forbid, and ended up with the same fate as Bethany, Dawson would be stuck with Melanie forever. The only tie they’d had, Mason, would be gone. And their lives would be empty. At least her parents had had two daughters as glue for their relationship.

Considering the other side of the coin, say Mason escaped the worst-case scenario. This was the one she prayed for every night. If she and Dawson had married based on her pregnancy, would all the spark between them slowly die with the realization that the only reason they were together was Mason?

Most nights, Melanie sat up worrying, churning over her guilt. She stressed about Mason growing up never knowing his father, about Dawson’s reaction if he found out about his son, and about whether or not she was being unfair. And it had just felt like this huge no-win situation. Tell Dawson and commit him to a life of worry. Don’t tell him and cheat him out of his son.

How many nights had she lain awake staring at the ceiling? That hamster wheel of questions spinning through her mind? Wishing answers would magically appear?

Working nights mostly after he was asleep, she felt incredibly blessed to have been there for all his important firsts. There would be even more that she had to look forward to, like his first day of kindergarten, his first bike ride and the first book he could read on his own. Based on his taste so far it would be something by Dr. Seuss.

“That about does it,” Dawson said. She hadn’t noticed the little clanking noises had stopped that he’d made while putting away supplies.

Another yawn rolled up and out before she could suppress it. When was the last time she’d been this tired? Having her body beyond the brink of exhaustion was one thing. Her mind, overthinking her circumstance, had pushed this into a whole new stratosphere.

“Think you can get some sleep?” he asked.

“I doubt it.”

“I’ve never seen you look so tired.”

“Comes with the job,” she mused, thankful the mood had lightened at least for now. “Thanks for what you said earlier, by the way.”

His brow came up as he took a seat on the couch. “And that was?”

“For saying I was a good mother.”

“Whatever is going on between us, and believe me, we’re going to talk about this all very soon, doesn’t affect how I think of you as Mason’s mother.” He paused thoughtfully. “I meant every word of what I said. He couldn’t have done better.”

The deep rumble of his voice, the way it poured over her like Amaretto on vanilla ice cream, would cause her knees to buckle if she’d been standing. He’d always had that ability to make her legs turn into rubber.

“It means a lot to hear you say that, Dawson.”

“Come sit over here on the couch,” he said, motioning for her to take a seat next to him.

She did, feeling the heat swirl as their shoulders touched. He still had that effect on her and she should be concerned about that. As it was, she was just happy that she could feel that way for anyone. To say her love life had been a draught since getting pregnant was the understatement of the year.

Walking away from Dawson had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever done. Until sitting next to him on the couch right now.