I satwith my back against the door, blocking it because no one had given me a key, trying to ignore the fact that someone called Lucas was curled up on a chair in the far corner of the room. He hadn’t been unkind, just sat quietly, reading a book under a soft light. He’d tried to talk to me, but I didn’t have anything to say. He’d said I could sleep, but I wanted to be next to Gabbi, so I pulled the covers off the bed to create a nest that covered me, then curled around where Lucas had taken a drawer from the unit, lining it with blankets.
Like a blanket fort.
With the most precious thing in the world inside for me to protect.
Marcus had brought another bottle earlier, showing me how to test the warmth, before giving Gabbi a quick check, then me, and disappearing again. I hesitated, second-guessing the angle, the way her head rested in my arm.
“Like this?” I’d asked, and he’d nodded and smiled at me, and I felt capable for a few moments, and when she latched, relief hit so hard it had almost knocked the breath out of me.
The bottle had slipped a little, milk dribbling down her chin.
“Sh—sorry,” I muttered, wiping it too fast, afraid I was doing everything wrong.
She fussed, and I froze, not sure what I’d done this time, but Marcus had reassured me it was all good, and she latched back on.
Marcus had apologized for Lucas sitting with me, but explained it gently, saying that it was protocol for a team member to accompany anyone new to the place. I could see the lie in his expression because I’m sure it had more to do with the dramatic way I’d arrived—with a baby, on Christmas Day. The whole dead-ex story probably didn’t help.
The cops could show up any second, and my hypervigilance ran at full tilt. It was the only way I could make sure no one walked in while Gabbi slept. Every time someone’s voice echoed down the hall, my heart jumped.
Someone—I don’t know who—left a plate of food near me. I picked at it, too wired to eat much, but I did drink the water.
I knew enough to stay alive.
The lights were dim, and the only sounds were Gabbi’s breathing and Lucas turning pages. My eyes burned from exhaustion, but I kept them open. I didn’t trust myself to close them yet. Not here. Not when everyone was probably still deciding what kind of man I was. Tears stung my eyes, the kind that burned and shamed me for showing weakness, but I couldn’t stop them. I leaned closer, whispering to Gabbi as she shifted in her makeshift bed.
“What am I going to do, little one?” My voice cracked. “How’s this supposed to work?”
I wiped a hand over my face and exhaled, the weight of everything pressing down on me. I had to find a way. For her. I glanced over at Lucas, but he gave no indication he’d heard me, although he must have.
What will happen now that Annie is gone?
“What are we gonna do without your momma?” I whispered. The words tore something loose inside me, and before I knew it, I was sobbing and I pressed my sleeve to my mouth, trying to quiet the sound, counting breaths until I could breathe again. My shoulders shook, breath hitching as I fought to stay silent. I didn’t want anyone to hear, didn’t want Lucas to see me like this. But the grief wouldn’t stop, spilling out of me in ragged, muffled cries while Gabbi slept peacefully, warm and tucked in her blanket cocoon. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Lucas. He handed me tissues, offered me a smile, then moved back to the far corner.
I wanted to say something.
I need to explain myself.
I shouldbegthem not to call the cops. If Annie’s family found out their daughter had a child, would I lose Gabbi? Was the right thing to do to give her up to a family with the resources to care for her? What couldIgive her? I had an honorable discharge, out now after too many tours that left more scars than medals, and I’d planned to use the GI Bill, go back to school, maybe fix engines or study something that could build a future. But I had a daughter now.
My world might have nothing to offer her—no savings, no home, no peace—but she was everything to me. I’d find a way to give her something better, even if it killed me.
Gabbi snuffled and shifted, and I immediately lifted her from the drawer, burying my tears in her neck and holding her close. She was beautiful—perfect. A tiny rosebud mouth, pale blue eyes blinking open with sleepy confusion, and a yawn that made her whole face scrunch up before she relaxed again. My chest ached just looking at her. She wasn’t crying yet, but it had been… I glanced at a clock… three hours? four? since her last feed. And by the odor permeating the air, she needed changing.
I looked up at Lucas. “I need to change her and get her another bottle. Or something. She’s five months, at least I think so. Does she need other food? Mashed-up baby stuff?”
Lucas leaned forward, pocketing his book. “I don’t know. Let’s go find Marcus.”
I followed him into the hallway, carefully shifting Gabbi in my arms. The corridor was silent, lit faintly by overhead lights that buzzed. My boots squeaked against the linoleum, too loud in the quiet. Lucas walked ahead, his steps steady, shoulders relaxed in a way that made me jealous. I stayed close, noting door we passed, half expecting one to open and for cops to spill out, arresting me and taking Gabbi. Every instinct urged me to keep moving, stay alert, and at the end of the hall, we found Marcus hunched over a clipboard outside the exam room. He glanced up as we approached, taking in me, the baby, and Lucas’s watchful presence. His expression gentled, though his eyes remained sharp—assessing.
“Hey,” he said quietly, nodding toward Gabbi. “Is she doing okay?”
“She’s fine,” I managed, though my voice came out rough. “Needs changing. Maybe a bottle. I’m not sure what she’s supposed to be eating at five months.”
Marcus gave a small smile. “We’ve got supplies. Formula, diapers, the works. Let’s take care of her first, yeah?” He stepped aside, motioning for me to follow him into the doctor’s office. Lucas didn’t follow us inside; the door shut behind me, leaving Gabbi, the doctor, and me.
I placed Gabbi on the table, fumbling to change her into the clean diaper Marcus handed me, using so many wipes I could have built a mountain out of the dirty ones. When she kicked her legs and gurgled, staring up at me, something in my chest broke again. She deserved so much more than this—more thanme trying to figure it out as I went. But right now, she just had me. And that had to be enough.
Marcus watched me work in silence for a moment, then leaned back on the counter, arms folded. “You’re doing okay,” he said. Not quite reassurance, more an observation.
