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Part of her had a better understanding of why her parents chose to stay together and that scared her even more.
Having an intelligent conversation with a baby about the latest big book or movie wasn’t exactly possible. Since her friends were out or asleep when the baby went down for the night, she’d buried herself in being Mason’s mom.
“Confession?” she asked.
He nodded, smiled at the reference to the game they used to play when they were about to reveal something they didn’t want to or wanted to correct a lie.
“I work at a bar at night so I can spend the days with Mason. I don’t feel like I’ve really slept in—well, if you count the pregnancy—almost two and a half years.”
The look of shock on his face had her thinking sharing was a bad idea.
“I know I’m not using my degree,” she said quickly, “but I will. As soon as Mason’s old enough to go to school, I plan to get an office job. And then we’ll have more of a normal life. I didn’t want to miss it—miss this stage. I wanted to be there to see him take his first steps, hear him say his first words.”
And, yes, to watch over him and make sure he wasn’t showing any signs of the disease Bethany had died from. She’d never say that part out loud, but it was just as true.
“Of course, I’m also afraid that I’m doing everything wrong. Maybe I should get a normal job now with regular hours. I worry about being tired all the time. How can I possibly be a great mother on the days I can barely keep my eyes open?”
Dawson’s silence was just about the worst thing right now as they got inside the car and then pulled out of the parking lot without him responding.
His mother’s words echoed in Melanie’s head over and over again until her brain hurt. Leave my son alone. Let him have a life. Don’t trap him with a child that would only make him live every day in fear.
Well, guess what? The secret was out in the open. The ball was in Dawson’s court. He knew he had a son. And now he was as trapped as her parents had been.
“You’re a good mother,” Dawson said, and the note of reverence in his voice took her back.
“How do you know?”
“The way you look at him. The way you want to protect him. Back on the porch you were ready to shoot me. Me.”
“In my defense, I didn’t know who you were at the time,” she said.
“Exactly my point. You didn’t so much as flinch. You’d do whatever it took to keep him safe. You couldn’t possibly be a bad mother. But we’re not even close to done talking.”
She held up a hand as she suppressed a yawn. Yeah, it was a stall tactic. What could she say to him?
Melanie remembered every moment of his sorrow after losing his sister.
Once the baby was born, her emotions had been on a perpetual roller coaster. Should she tell him? Did he have a right to know? Would it break him if the worst case came true? She’d been too exhausted and too emotional to make a rational decision, even though she told herself a thousand times she’d figure out a way to reach out to Dawson. Every time she seriously considered it, an image of him after he lost his sister, the overwhelming sadness had her reconsidering.
Coming back to Mason Ridge had been a colossal mistake. What if Dawson got it in his head that he needed to “do the right thing” and propose? She’d have to refuse. Visions of shared custody and an empty holiday table every other Christmas flooded her and tears instantly welled in her eyes. She was being silly, selfish. She knew that.
A few spilled over, but she’d be damned if she let Dawson see her cry. How many times had she heard her own mother crying herself to sleep at night?
Melanie had no plans to go there. Ever.
* * *
“WHERE ARE YOU taking us?” Melanie asked Dawson, his brain still trying to process everything that had just happened.
“Somewhere safe.” A place where they could take care of the baby and talk. Dawson was owed answers. He would ask more questions, but he honestly didn’t know where to start. Finding out he had a kid was more than a shock and he was trying to wrap his mind around how he felt about the news. Most men had nine months to gear up for parenthood. He’d had the bomb dropped in his lap about an hour ago. Not to mention the fact that he’d missed the first entire year and a half of his son’s life.
Anger. Now, there was an emotion. Dawson was all too familiar with that reaction to the world. He’d be all over it now if he thought raging would do any good. It wouldn’t. One thing Dawson had learned from youth was that no good had ever come out of losing his temper. He had more experience to back that statement than he wanted to admit.
Fear was another emotion ripping through him. What if his son had the same genetic trait Bethany had? What if Mason developed Alexander disease? A ripple of anger burned through Dawson.
Distrust topped his list, as well. People lied all the time. Dawson was ridiculous enough to believe that he and Melanie had a special relationship. If it had been, she wouldn’t have been able to harbor a secret of that magnitude.
The pair had been inseparable as kids. She’d been the only one he could trust when his five-year-old sister had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. His parents had mentally checked out afterward. Not Melanie. She’d been there for him every step of the way.
Sadness and rage had filled the ten-year-old Dawson. He’d been angry at the world for taking away his baby, and she’d been called his baby from the day she was born for how protective of her he’d been.
There’d been endless doctor visits and the agony of watching his baby wither away until she’d closed her eyes for the last time.
Dawson had withdrawn from his friends that year and retreated inside himself into a dark place. Then, out of nowhere, Melanie had shown up. She’d just sat on his stairs every day after school until her parents called her in for supper, never once knocking. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Curiosity eventually got the best of Dawson and he opened the door and asked her what she wanted.
“Nothing,” she’d said.
He’d closed the door and gone back into his room, stewing over why anyone would sit there every day on his property if she didn’t have a good reason.
The next day they had the same conversation. After a week, he told her to leave.
She’d looked at him with the same eyes she had now, shivering, and gave him a flat “No.”
When he asked why she wouldn’t leave, she’d replied, “Free country.”
That day, he’d sat down next to her. “You sure are stubborn.”
“I know,” was all she’d said. Then she’d pulled out a stack of basketball trading cards from her coat pocket— collecting had been his passion—and asked him what he’d give for a Topps Kareem Abdul-Jabbar 1976/1977 edition.
Dawson, who hadn’t looked at his cards in almost a year, started negotiating for the forty dollar prize. As he did, the heavy burden he’d been carrying since losing his baby lost some of its grip. That had also been the first night he didn’t cry himself to sleep.
It had taken a little time after that, but he’d eventually regained his bearings. He’d rejoined his friends, the rest of the world, and had shared everything with Melanie since then. He and Melanie had been inseparable until hormones and the demands of his high school girlfriend had split them apart.
Of all the people in the world, Dawson had believed that no matter how much time and space came between them, Melanie would always have his back.
Until now. Until this. Until her betrayal.
Never in his wildest thoughts would he have guessed she would do this to him—denying him his child burned him like a stray bolt of lightning, fast and deep. Hiding his son from him was the worst betrayal. She’d broken every thread of trust that had existed between them in a way that couldn’t be repaired.
Dawson forced his thoughts back to the present as he exited the highway. He’d pulled a few evasive maneuvers to ensure that no one had followed them. There was a hotel on the outskirts of town, heading toward Dallas, that would work. They should be safe there for a little while at least.
Law enforcement knew about Sprigs and Alcorn, but Dawson couldn’t rule out the possibility that there’d be others involved. Those two might sit at the top of the crime ring, but they had to have a fairly sophisticated network to pull off human trafficking. Any of their lackeys could be after Melanie.
Dawson had a thought. Maybe the guy back at the house was supposed to kidnap Melanie and bring her to Sprigs. With everyone on the lookout for him, he’d have to be crafty. He could’ve planned to snatch Melanie and then disappear out of the country.
The thought sat hot in Dawson’s stomach. Being on the Most Wanted list made all those individuals even more dangerous. And that meant his son was in serious danger, too.
“Who knows about Mason?” he asked.
“My family.”
“That’s all?” he pressed. He’d picked up on something in her voice when she answered.
“Yes.”
With a sick baby, Dawson’s first priority would be to get adequate housing and food. What did a baby eat? Did his son even eat real food? Dawson had no idea. Resentment for losing the past year and a half of his child’s life bubbled to the surface along with a very real fear. Thinking about his little sister, her illness, had him wondering again if his son would inherit the disease.
He glanced at the rearview.
Melanie had closed her eyes in the backseat while holding Mason’s hand, and a piece of Dawson’s heart stirred.
Once again, he was floored at the thought he had a child.
It was a lot to digest, but nothing would stop him from getting there and accepting it. An image of him and Mason playing ball popped up in Dawson’s head. Pride filled his chest, accompanied by a feeling he couldn’t put his finger on. He recalled feeling something like this for his baby sister when she’d been alive, but the feeling had been tucked away so deep he almost forgot it had existed.
He hadn’t allowed himself to think about her in years. He guessed he’d stashed away everything that had caused him pain.
His relationship with his parents had never been the same after her death. Their mourning was so powerful, so strong that they had nothing left to give Dawson or each other.
His mother took it the hardest, staying in bed until Dawson returned from school most days for a year. Grief-stricken, she left her medical practice for almost two years before finally trying to move forward. His father put on a brave mask and went to work. He’d bring food home, keeping the house going, but he never really smiled or laughed after that.
A few years later one of Dawson’s friends and her little brother, Rebecca and Shane, had been abducted. Dawson’s parents had joined in the search. It was the first thing they’d done together since losing Bethany. With time, they became closer and more involved in Dawson’s life again.
But in those dark years when the air had been sucked out of the house, Melanie had brought the light.
If someone had told him that Melanie would betray their history, their friendship, with one act, he wouldn’t have believed it possible. She could’ve gotten away with almost anything and he’d have found a way to forgive her. But this?
Never.
Chapter Four (#ulink_0d4f3150-9cef-5648-b03d-c0742290f1d3)
By the time Dawson pulled into the hotel parking lot, Melanie was asleep in the backseat. He hated to wake her, so he just stared at her for a minute. All those old feelings—good feelings, like nights spent outdoors looking up at the sky and warmth—crashed with the new reality, the one where she’d betrayed him in the worst way.
She wasn’t the same person and neither was he. Her skin glowed and he figured something about motherhood had changed her. So much about her was different, especially in the way she carried herself. Her features had softened even more unless her son was threatened and then her protectiveness was written all over her stern gaze and determined stance.
On closer look, he’d noticed the dark circles under her eyes. It seemed she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in months, and based on his limited experience with a baby, he could see how that might happen. Dawson didn’t think he’d ever sleep again for worrying over his son, especially while the little guy was sick. Plus, everything about Mason seemed tiny and fragile.
The kid had a good set of lungs on him.
And Melanie seemed to think Mason was huge now. Dawson could only imagine what those first few months must’ve been like while he was even smaller.
“Where are we?” Melanie woke as soon as Dawson cut off the engine.
“We’re in a Dallas suburb. Figured there’d be grocery stores nearby where we could pick up supplies for the baby.”
She shook her head and blinked her eyes. “Okay. Just give me a second.”
Dawson opened Mason’s door and waited for her to unbuckle him. Working the car seat was a lesson for another day. He’d need to figure it out soon if he was going to take his son anywhere on his own. The learning curve on caring for a baby would be steep. He’d seen first-hand with his friend Dylan.
Melanie made it all look easy as she clicked a button and gently removed the straps to free their son.
Dawson reminded himself he’d only had two hours of practice, whereas she’d had the past eighteen months to adjust.
“You’re tired. I’ll carry the baby,” Dawson said. No matter how bad things were between him and Melanie, Mason had nothing to do with it. Dawson had no plans to make his son feel uncomfortable when his parents were around each other so he’d have to work on keeping his emotions in check.
“No, thanks. I got him.” Melanie scooped their son out of his seat fluidly. She had that same look in her eye that she did on the porch, too.
For now, Dawson wouldn’t argue. But she’d learn to give him an inch. Mason belonged to both of them and Dawson had no plans to let his son down in the way his own parents had done him.
Grinding his back teeth, he shouldered the diaper bag.
After ten minutes at the front desk, Dawson had a hotel room key in hand and the promise that a crib was being delivered to the room. He knew enough to make sure there was a fridge and a microwave, opting for an all-suite hotel rather than one with traditional rooms. The inside entry would ensure that Melanie and Mason were safe while Dawson ran out for supplies.
Their suite was on the second floor, another safety precaution he’d insisted on.
“This should give us a place to rest and think so we can figure out our next move.” He opened the door, allowing her and the baby in first.
“It might be safer for me and Mason if we go back to our apartment tomorrow. Sprigs doesn’t know where I live.”
He didn’t want to scare her, but he couldn’t let her take unnecessary risks with his child, either. “You’re stuck with me until they catch him.”
All hope that his comment would ease her concerns flew out the window with her exacerbated look. If possible, her stress levels seemed to increase. Hell on a stick. He hadn’t meant for that to happen. She had bigger ghosts from her past to be afraid of than him.
Mason stirred, spit out his pacifier and started crying again.
The sound was pitiful and caused Dawson’s heart to sink to his toes. He’d do just about anything to make it go away. Watching his son upset with no means to soothe him had never made Dawson feel more helpless in his life, not since...well...dammit...he couldn’t go there again about his sister.
Melanie was gently bouncing Mason while she sang the song from the car to him.
The place had everything they needed, including a bedroom with a door that closed, sealing off the room. He figured Melanie would appreciate that feature as much as he did about now. Especially if they had to stay put for a few days.
“Is he hungry? Does he need milk or formula?” Dawson had scooped up the pacifier and set it on the counter.
“No, he shouldn’t be. Babies cry when they don’t feel good.” She kissed Mason’s forehead. “He’s just telling us that whatever he has isn’t fun.”
Dawson stripped off his shirt and paced. He oversaw the logistics department for a major online retailer. He could handle this. He thought about his friend Dylan. There was a man who was the second least likely natural father material in their group and look how well he’d done since his daughter, Maribel, had come to live with him. To say the guy had changed drastically was a lot like saying a cow had turned into a dog.
Dawson mentally calculated the age difference between Maribel and Mason. She was three, so the two were about a year and a half apart. Thinking back, she’d come to live with her father when she was about six months older than Mason.
At least Dawson had a friend with experience at being thrown this curve ball. Dylan would be a great resource. Dawson needed to reach out to his friend when things settled down and he was able to spend time alone with his son. As protective as Melanie was, there was no risk she’d leave the two of them to their own resources before she had to.
As much as he didn’t like the idea of being forced to spend time with her after what she’d done, he wasn’t stupid. He would need her to help him get up to speed. Baby boys probably weren’t much different from girls, but Dawson was starting from ground zero with the whole parenting thing, and he needed all the help he could get.
A few minutes of rocking and singing later, and Mason had settled down enough to go back to sleep.
“What time is it?” Melanie asked, diverting her gaze from him as a soft knock came at the door.
If that noise woke the baby, the person on the other side of that hunk of wood had better run. A glance at Mason revealed that he still slept.
