Page 40 of Talk Wicked to Me

“You both must be exhausted.” He pressed his lips to Brennan’s forehead. “He’s not feverish. Does he have a rash anywhere?”

She shook her head, relieved he was there, even if it meant he’d think less of her as a mother. “I checked every time I changed him, and I didn’t see anything.”

“Good. And his circumcision and umbilical cord? Any redness or inflammation?”

“Not that I noticed. Oh God. What if I missed it, and he’s been in pain this whole time?”

“I’m sure you didn’t, but I’ll take a look. Come on. I want you to sit down. You’ve got to be worn out.” He slid his arm around her waist again, guiding her to the couch, unflappable, even with Brennan’s shaky cries. When she sat down, he crouched before her and took her hand, calmly reassuring her. “Don’t worry, Emerson. We’ll figure this out. He’s going to be fine.”

His confidence drew more tears, but she nodded.

He laid Brennan on the changing table, and for a brief second her little boy stopped crying, but he must have been catching his breath, because he started up again. “At least we know his lungs work well,” Baz said, using a baby wipe to clean his hands before undressing Brennan. “Let’s see what’s going on with you, Little B.” He carefully inspected his belly button and his circumcision and pressed gently around his stomach. “You didn’t miss a thing, Em. He looks good. When’s the last time he nursed?”

“Maybe half an hour ago, but not for long, and that worries me.” She wiped more tears.

“That’s normal. Your milk has probably come in. It’s richer than colostrum, so he may not nurse as long or as often.”

“I should know that. I do know that. I just forgot. Ugh. What else have I forgotten? My brain is mush.” Tears welled in her eyes again.

“You’re exhausted. Cut yourself some slack,” he said as he changed Brennan’s diaper and his outfit, unfazed by his cries.

“I can’t. What if I forget something important and he pays the price?”

“You’re a loving mother. I don’t think you’ll forget the things he needs, like feeding and changing, but you might forget to take care of yourself.” He picked up Brennan and rested him on his shoulder, rubbing his back. “Okay, buddy, you’re clean, dry, fed, and not sick. How about we give Mama a break?” He turned a serious gaze on her. “Are you staying hydrated?”

“I don’t…I—” Sobs stole her voice, and she shook her head, feeling stupid.

He sat beside her on the couch, pulling her against him. “It’s okay. That has nothing to do with his crying.”

“But I haven’t had anything to drink since breakfast, and the doctor told me to make sure I did. Maybe I’m not producing enough milk for him. I did this to him, didn’t I?”

“No. It’s only six thirty. That’s not enough time for you to get dehydrated enough to affect him, but it is enough to affect you, and your health is even more important than his because he relies on you. Dehydration can make you tired and dizzy.”

“Great. I made myself sick, and I suck at taking care of him.” She didn’t mean to raise her voice. More sobs broke free as she spoke. “I really thought I could be a great mother. But parents are supposed to be their children’s anchor in any storm, and I feel like a dinghy being tossed in the waves. Which makes sense, because what do I know about mothering? My mother died, and then I was stuck with Gwen’s mother. I’m grateful they took me in, but their housekeeper did more parenting than she ever did, which means I’m totally not qualified to care for my own baby.”

Baz held her tighter, and she buried her face in his chest.

“You are a great mother,” he said with unwavering confidence. “Every parent goes through this. Taking care of a baby is hard enough. Doing it alone is ten times harder. Leah and Chloe had tons of tear-filled days and nights. Tank and Maverick had their bad times, too. You met them. You know how tough they are. Tank called me one night at two in the morning because he and Leah were spent, and Leo was a crying mess. Tank had been up all night the night before because the club was handling a situation, and Leah hadn’t slept because Rosie, their youngest, had been sick. I went over to take care of Leo so they could sleep, and talk about a set of lungs. That boy could wake people three states away. I took him for a ride in my truck so he wouldn’t keep them up, and he finally fell asleep. I drove for hours so they could all get some shut-eye.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his warm lips surprising her, drawing her eyes to his. He wasn’t looking at her judgmentally or with pity. He looked at her like he truly understood, and that brought a modicum of relief.

“It’s not just you, darlin’. You’re a great mom. Brennan will be okay. Tell me what you need.”

Why did that make her cry harder? “I don’t know. Nothing. Everything. I miss my mom and dad, and I miss my dog, and I miss Gwen. But most of all, I don’t want to screw up my baby.”

“You never will,” he whispered, Brennan’s cries turning to a whimper. He held her for a long moment. “I have an idea that might help both of you, but first you need to hydrate. What do you like to drink?”

“What do I like? Sparkling apple-cranberry juice. But I ran out. Water’s fine.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He went to the kitchen, and she tried again to pull herself together. When he returned with a glass of water, he sat beside her as she drank it. “If you’re anything like me, a visual reminder might help you remember to do certain things. Try to have a glass of water with you when you nurse him. When he eats, you drink. Think you can do that?”

She nodded. “I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You’re a new mom. Your body’s been through a nine-month marathon, and you’re running on fumes.” Brennan was quiet, save for a whimper slipping out here and there. “Come on. Bring your drink with you.” He helped her up and took her hand, leading her into the bedroom. He took the glass and set it on the nightstand. “My old man always says a little extra love goes a long way. I want you to lie down with Brennan.”

“But you’re not supposed to sleep with a baby in the bed.”