Sable Peak (The Edens)

“Anne?” I called into her house from the front door.

“Come on in!”

I toed off my shoes and padded down the hallway, finding her in the kitchen.

Nothing was on the stove or in the oven. She had her hands braced on the island as the sound of a wailing baby girl echoed from the living room.

“Um, everything okay?”

“It’s been a day.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, then forced a smile. “How are you?”

“Good.” That tiny scream got louder. It was so startling and heartbreaking, I forgot for a moment why I was here. “I brought you those strawberries.”

“Thanks. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all.”

Lyla had ordered an extra flat from her distributor so that Anne could make strawberry jam.

“Where do you want me to put them?”RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

“I’ll get them.” She rounded the island and pulled me into a quick hug. “You’ve been working since four. I’ll take care of the strawberries. And I need just a minute out of the house.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely.” She steered me toward a stool at the island. “Sit.”

“All right. The flat is in my backseat. Doors are unlocked.”

She patted my shoulder, then disappeared outside.

Alaina’s cries seemed to get louder every second.

What was happening? I pressed a hand to my heart and slipped out of the kitchen, toward two male voices attempting to battle a baby’s scream.

Mateo was lapping the living room with his red-faced daughter in the crook of his arm. With every step, he bounced and swayed, trying to get her to settle down.

Harrison sat on a leather couch, his elbows on his knees as he gave his son a sad smile. “Want me to take her?”

“No, I’ve got her.” Mateo blew out a long, exasperated breath, then squished her bottom. “Her diaper is dry. I tried to feed her but she’s not hungry. I’m walking her around, which is the only way to get her to sleep, but she’s not sleeping. I just … I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

“There’s nothing wrong with her,” Harrison said. “Babies cry.”

“It’s constant, Dad. Day and night.” Mateo’s voice cracked. With it, so did my heart. “I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind.”

“Talia said there was nothing to worry about. Colic is normal. Griffin had it something fierce when he was that age.”

Mateo made another three laps. “Or maybe it’s me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe what she really needs is a mother.”

“Oh, son. You’re doing fine. It’ll get easier.”

There was nothing but exhaustion, desperation, on Mateo’s face. He looked like a man who had a newborn baby, and who’d been caring for that baby on his own since the day he’d brought her home from Alaska.

I’d only heard bits and pieces of the story. Anne or Harrison would tell me if I asked. So would Lyla or Vance. But for some reason, it felt like a betrayal. It was Mateo’s story to tell and it was something I wanted to hear directly from him.

But I hadn’t asked.

All I knew was that Alaina’s mother had died in childbirth. A friend had called Mateo the night of that dinner in March when he’d announced he had a daughter.

So he’d flown to Alaska. And he’d brought Allie home two weeks later.

“This is so messed up, Dad.” Mateo swallowed hard. “What am I doing?”

Harrison stood and walked to his side, putting a hand on Mateo’s shoulder. “Being a father.”

Mateo nodded and blew out a long breath. “I’m just tired.”

“Why don’t you plan to stay here tonight? Your mom and I will take a midnight shift so you can get some rest.”

Relief flooded Mateo’s features. “You don’t mind?”

“Not a bit.”

Was that the first time he’d let them help? No wonder he was exhausted. He’d been trying to do it all himself.

Harrison clapped him on the shoulder, then walked out of the living room, finding me waiting. He came right into my space and hauled me in for a hug, whispering, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He let me go and walked down the hall, probably to search for Anne and tell her that they’d just volunteered to babysit.

I stepped into the living room. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His eyes met mine and the sorrow in them seemed endless.

Was that sorrow for Allie’s mother? Had he loved her? What was her name? Did he say it often? Or did he keep that name locked inside because it was too hard to speak aloud?

“Are you doing okay?” I asked.

He lifted a shoulder and stopped walking.

The minute his feet halted, so did Alaina’s crying.

The silence was deafening. I held my breath, not wanting to startle her again. But her eyelids fluttered, her lips pursed, and then she fell asleep. As quickly as I could snap my fingers, she was out.

Mateo’s eyes widened, but otherwise, he didn’t so much as breathe. He stood statue still for a full minute before finally risking a step. He shuffled to the couch, slowly and deliberately bending until he was seated. Then his gaze roved over his daughter’s face, tracing over the little eyelashes that formed crescents against her smooth cheeks.

He gave it a few more moments, making sure she wasn’t going to wake, then sagged into the cushions. “Can I do this?”

That question seemed more like one he was asking himself, but I answered it anyway. “You can do this.”

As our eyes locked, he gave me a sad smile. Then he let his head rest against the back of the couch. Just like his daughter, one moment he was awake. The next, he was out. Snap.

But his hold on that baby never faltered, even as he slept.