“Yes, but not until the second one. I wallowed in self-pity for the first week and then got my head out of my ass and got the girl who’d wanted me all along.” He flexes his chest muscles. “She only went out with him because I’d hurt her feelings. As I said, men do stupid things, but so do women.”
A male voice comes over the radio. “This is Officer Thompson. We need an ambulance at the police station.”
The police station. Jake. And he needs an ambulance. My hand shakes as I slam the door closed and re-strap my seatbelt. Dale slings himself back into the driver’s seat and restarts the engine.
Dale maintains his composure as he pulls out of our parking space and flips on the lights. Please let everything be okay.
I swipe my hands on my pants as I survey the police parking lot for signs of distress. The only vehicle besides the parked police cruisers in the lot is Jake’s pickup and Ramirez’s vehicle.
“Take a deep breath,” Dale says calmly as he navigates out of our parking lot.
“I’m fine,” I snap with more force than intended. Shit. My knee pops up and down. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. If it were Tameka, I’d feel the same way.”
I don’t respond to his comment as he flips on the blinker and eases the ambulance into the station parking lot.
Jake opens the front door and waves. He looks the same–strong, muscular, and cleanly shaven, but his hair is sticking up in different directions as if he’s run his hands through it. The muscles in his jaw are tight, but there are no signs of physical distress.
Dale pulls to a stop, and I jump out. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” He shakes his head but appears rattled about something. Jake is never rattled. “No.” He opens the door wider. “Come inside.”
My legs feel like Jello as I follow him inside. I got out of the ambulance so fast that Dale is just now opening his door.
Three feet inside the police station is a box on the floor. A cardboard packing box with a newborn baby inside. A still, blood-coated baby wrapped in a soiled pink towel. I clutch my chest and shift my attention from the baby to Jake. “Is this yours?”
“Jesus, Em.” His stressed face transforms into anger as his hands curl into fists at his sides. “I told you I haven’t been with anyone, so unless the woman had a pregnancy that lasted over three years, there’s no way this is my child.”
“I’m sorry.” I straighten and step back. “It’s the first thing that popped into my head. I’ve clearly read too many romances with surprise babies dropped on the heroes’ front doorstep.”
“Well, what do we have here?” Dale strides through the door and steps between me and the box containing the baby.
“I thought I heard someone in the parking lot a few minutes ago. Before I could check, Mrs. Claypool called, andwhen I got off the phone, I’d forgot all about it.” He rotates his neck. “Then I thought I heard a kitten crying. With the shelter not opening until later today, I thought someone might’ve dropped off an abandoned kitten. Or one of the stray cats was looking for food.”
I’m fairly certain he doesn’t realize he’s babbling.
“But you found an abandoned baby instead.” Dale stares into the box.
“Yes.” Jake runs a hand through his hair as I squat down in front of the box.
“When I was working in Columbia there were two abandoned babies dropped off at the fire station.” The anger on Jake’s face is still evident, but now, it’s directed at whomever dropped off the baby instead of my stupid mouth. “But I wasn’t expecting to find a baby outside the door.”
As they continue discussing the time frame for when Jake heard the noise, his phone call with Mrs. Claypool, and the subsequent discovery of the abandoned baby. I wrinkle my nose and unwrap the first layer of the towel as the baby lets out a weak whimper.
The baby is unclothed except for the towel. As I peel the towel back, a piece of paper comes into view.
“There’s a note.” I retrieve the notebook paper and hand it to Jake without bothering to look at it. The baby is the most important thing at this point.
There’s a faint coating of blood crusted along its skin. The umbilical cord is hanging across the newborn’s stomach. I tilt my head and scan from head to toe. There’s some soilingunderneath the baby on the towel. A baby girl. Her arms and legs move as she cries. Her skin is reddish, indicating she’s under 24 hours old.
Who left her here? How could they have left her here? After quickly feeling her extremities, I pull her from the box as she continues to wail and hold her to my chest, not caring for a second that I’m getting dirty. Because comforting this baby is the only thing that matters.
My heart melts as I hold her to my chest and look into those enormous brown eyes. “Sweet baby, I’m so sorry.”
Jake reads the note out loud. “I can’t take care of this baby. Please give her to someone who can.”
My heart cracks in two at the words. How could someone abandon their baby? I know it happens, and it likely is the best thing that could’ve happened to the baby if the mother’s living situation is bad, but…
