“And my sisters rocked their babies in this chair too.”
Elijah was carved next, with a birth date much more recent. According to this, he was a teenager. Then there was Isaac, Katherine, and Margaret.
The breath left my lungs. For a moment I was speechless. When I could finally breathe again, I said, “And you brought this for me?”
“Yes. Only if you want it.” He rubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand up. “I wanted Vincent to have a little part of my parents. Since he won’t get to meet them.”
My heart ached. My parents, both very much alive and healthy, had already proved that they had little interest in my baby. But this loving, sweet gesture damn near cracked my heart in half.
“Do you want to rock him first?” I asked gently.
His face softened and his eyes went misty. Nodding, he eased into the chair. As I moved closer, he looked up at me with a lookof pure gratitude. I handed him Vincent, who was swaddled and happily sucking on his binkie.
Jasper settled in quickly and began to rock him, closing his teary eyes and murmuring to our child.
“And Nana Louise was an artist,” he said. “She could paint and draw and sculpt. She struggled during the long Vermont winters, so your grandpa built a small barn just for her. She would go in there and make art and play music and dance. She would have loved you so much.”
I turned away. Watching him rock our child, his large frame making Vincent look even smaller, and hearing the heartbreak in his voice was too much.
Too beautiful and too overwhelming.
For several minutes, I silently poked around the room, taking in the details while distracting myself from my emotions.
Eventually Jasper laid Vincent in his crib and stepped toward the door.
Just as he reached for the knob, I quietly cleared my throat. This situation required delicacy and strategy, neither of which my mind was capable of in this moment. But I had to get this off my chest.
“I don’t want to keep him from you,” I whispered. “You’re his father and you have every right to be here.”
“And I will be,” he said, his green eyes flashing with determination.
I took a deep breath and steeled my nerves. “I need a coparent,” I said matter-of-factly. It was necessary if I wanted to muscle all my complicated feelings into something workable. “Not a man who wants to play house when it’s convenient. I can’t create a life for my child while waiting to see if you show up.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth, but I forced them out anyway.
His eyes flickered again, this time with hurt, disappointment, and maybe a little shame. But then he nodded. Slow and silent. He didn’t argue. He didn’t fight.
“Okay,” he said, his tone resigned. “Then I’ll get out of your hair. And I’ll check with Ruby. Find out when I’m needed next.” He licked his lips and searched my face like he wanted to say more, like maybe he wanted to prove me wrong. Instead, he let the silence stretch out for an uncomfortable few seconds. Then he turned and walked out of the room.
Immediately, I wanted to call him back, to undo what I’d just done, to take back the words. But the fear of finding myself one day needing a man I couldn’t rely on kept me frozen in place. We had plenty of time to work out what our lives would look like as coparents, but for this moment, I needed to protect myself and Vincent.
It was better this way.
Even if I felt as though I’d slammed the door on something I wasn’t ready to lose.
Chapter 6
Jasper
It felt like I’d just left this place, and here I was, ready for another shift. For a small town, Maplewood was not sleepy. Calls came in all day and night, every day of the week. Most were minor, but they were frequent enough to keep us on the move. The firehouse was a handsome stone building next to City Hall on the town green. It was old, loud, and questionably maintained, but we made do.
I rubbed my eyes. I’d gotten up extra early to drive into town today to pick up coffee and a treat for Evie.
She had not looked particularly happy to see me when she’d opened the door, but between the cold brew and the croissant, she softened. Even let me hold Vincent for a few minutes while she took a shower. It wasn’t much, but it was progress.
As I stepped inside, I was greeted by the distinct and familiar smell of a fire station. Rubber and disinfectant, with a hint of exhaust. Since most of our time was spent cleaning, organizing, and maintaining our gear, the smell of the cleaner had seeped into the walls.
It was comforting and a bit nauseating all at once.
I plastered on a big smile, masking the stress weighing me down. My nervous system still hadn’t recovered from the eventsof the past few days. My entire world had changed, my life upended.
