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Dawson checked through the peephole and saw two men dressed in maintenance jumpsuits standing on the other side. No doubt the crib had arrived.
He opened the door slightly and put his finger to his lips.
One of the men, the one nearest the door, nodded his understanding and then turned to his buddy and repeated the gesture.
Dawson allowed them access.
“Where would you like this set up?” the lead man whispered.
Dawson deferred to Melanie. An act he was sure to repeat more than he cared to in the coming days, weeks, months.
And yet she looked just as sweet and pitiful as Mason with the boy snuggled against her chest. Dawson didn’t want to notice either of those things any more than he wanted to feel sorry for her. He did.
* * *
HAVING DAWSON AROUND fried Melanie’s nerves. Thank the stars he’d gone out for milk and baby food after he washed up and rinsed blood from his shirt. At least now she could breathe normally again—something that was impossible to do when he was in the room.
The maintenance workers had put together the crib. Thankfully, Dawson had stuck around until they’d left, and he was all she could think about since he walked out the door.
She’d given Mason a second dose of medicine according to the directions on the package.
He’d made a good point earlier, though. Why was Sprigs still obsessed with her? There had to be some underlying reason. If she could figure it out maybe she could make it stop. She understood why their other friends had been targeted. They’d been sitting on secrets that, pieced together, could’ve gotten Beckett Alcorn and Sprigs arrested a lot sooner and broken up the child abduction scheme.
But what had Melanie done?
Nothing.
She’d been careful not to encourage Sprigs. Then again, it wasn’t as if she’d remember something that had happened fifteen years ago. Good God, she could barely remember events from last week. Lack of sleep didn’t do good things to the memory. Or the brain. Or the body, she mused, looking down at her little pooch. Her stomach muscles hadn’t quite bounced back since she had the baby, and most of the time she didn’t care. It wasn’t as if she was trying to date.
Being in the room with Dawson had made her think about just how much she’d let herself go. Her hair was in a perpetual ponytail and she lived in yoga pants. She had to get dressed up for work, but that didn’t count. Forget makeup unless it was time to clock in.
Then she’d force herself into a pair of jeans, put on an actual bra and rotate her three good shirts. Money had been tight and all of hers had gone to taking care of Mason. Another thing she didn’t regret.
But speaking of clothes, she’d left her parents’ house in such a rush she hadn’t had a chance to grab any. Which was fine for now. At least she’d thrown on yoga pants when she heard the noise outside. Other than that, she had on a sleeping T-shirt and no bra.
And thinking about that was just a way of distracting herself from the very real possibility that Dawson would take her son away.
A part of her knew that he could never be that cruel, but if the shoe were on the other foot, what would she think about him?
She pushed the thought aside because she’d been trying to protect him.
Plus, there was no time to worry about that while she was hiding out from a crazy person—a man who stole kids.
A shudder ran through her bone-tired body. She’d been focused on the possibility of Dawson filing for sole custody, but there was another very real threat out there to her son. The Mason Ridge Abductor was more than one person, and the second half of that team seemed intent on harming her.
The door opened, causing her to jump.
“It’s me,” Dawson said, arms full of bags. “I got whole milk. That’s what he drinks, right?”
“Yeah, sorry, I should’ve been specific.”
“It’s fine. I looked it up on my cell. Apparently, you can learn just about everything on the internet.”
She couldn’t help herself so she laughed at his attempt at humor. She shouldn’t like the way it made him smile. At this point, she had no idea what his plans were and she had to protect her son at all costs. The thought of not being with him would end her—Mason was the only thing she’d thought about for two and a half years.
“I’ll help you put away the groceries,” she offered.
“Sit down. I got this.” He waved her off.
She bit back a yawn. When was the last time she’d really slept? Certainly not at her parents’ place. The idea had been good. Come back to Mason Ridge to help her friend while Abby took care of Mason in Houston. It was the first time she’d been away from him and she’d totally underestimated how much her heart would ache without him there.
A couple nights of sleep would help her be a better mother, she’d reasoned. Had any of that worked out the way she’d planned?
Only if tipping off his father to his existence was part of the plan.
Being away from her baby had only caused her to worry more about Mason, miss him and try to ignore the fact that his father, the man she’d never stopped loving, was sleeping right across the street. She’d known he was visiting because of his black SUV and a part of her had wished he’d been there because of his feelings for her even though she’d feared running into him, afraid of his questions. If he’d seen her face-to-face, would he realize something was different about her? Would he figure it out? Would he care?
Okay, so that last part had been answered with a resounding yes. But it wasn’t an emotion reserved for her, it was for Mason. There’d never been a doubt in her mind that if Dawson had known about Mason he would want to do the right thing and be involved. Because he was truly a good guy, he would most likely even propose marriage. In her hormonal state, she might’ve agreed. And then what? If Mason did have the gene, God forbid, and ended up with the same fate as Bethany, Dawson would be stuck with Melanie forever. The only tie they’d had, Mason, would be gone. And their lives would be empty. At least her parents had had two daughters as glue for their relationship.
Considering the other side of the coin, say Mason escaped the worst-case scenario. This was the one she prayed for every night. If she and Dawson had married based on her pregnancy, would all the spark between them slowly die with the realization that the only reason they were together was Mason?
Most nights, Melanie sat up worrying, churning over her guilt. She stressed about Mason growing up never knowing his father, about Dawson’s reaction if he found out about his son, and about whether or not she was being unfair. And it had just felt like this huge no-win situation. Tell Dawson and commit him to a life of worry. Don’t tell him and cheat him out of his son.
How many nights had she lain awake staring at the ceiling? That hamster wheel of questions spinning through her mind? Wishing answers would magically appear?
Working nights mostly after he was asleep, she felt incredibly blessed to have been there for all his important firsts. There would be even more that she had to look forward to, like his first day of kindergarten, his first bike ride and the first book he could read on his own. Based on his taste so far it would be something by Dr. Seuss.
“That about does it,” Dawson said. She hadn’t noticed the little clanking noises had stopped that he’d made while putting away supplies.
Another yawn rolled up and out before she could suppress it. When was the last time she’d been this tired? Having her body beyond the brink of exhaustion was one thing. Her mind, overthinking her circumstance, had pushed this into a whole new stratosphere.
“Think you can get some sleep?” he asked.
“I doubt it.”
“I’ve never seen you look so tired.”
“Comes with the job,” she mused, thankful the mood had lightened at least for now. “Thanks for what you said earlier, by the way.”
His brow came up as he took a seat on the couch. “And that was?”
“For saying I was a good mother.”
“Whatever is going on between us, and believe me, we’re going to talk about this all very soon, doesn’t affect how I think of you as Mason’s mother.” He paused thoughtfully. “I meant every word of what I said. He couldn’t have done better.”
The deep rumble of his voice, the way it poured over her like Amaretto on vanilla ice cream, would cause her knees to buckle if she’d been standing. He’d always had that ability to make her legs turn into rubber.
“It means a lot to hear you say that, Dawson.”
“Come sit over here on the couch,” he said, motioning for her to take a seat next to him.
She did, feeling the heat swirl as their shoulders touched. He still had that effect on her and she should be concerned about that. As it was, she was just happy that she could feel that way for anyone. To say her love life had been a draught since getting pregnant was the understatement of the year.
Walking away from Dawson had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever done. Until sitting next to him on the couch right now.
Chapter Five (#ulink_754fc15f-c81f-5336-8c48-b65ff6b745ae)
Dawson urged Melanie to put her head on his shoulder as he leaned deeper into the sofa, tabling his anger for now.
If they were going to coparent, they were going to have to learn to work together. None of that could happen in her current condition and his former state of mind. She was run-down, skittish and exhausted, and he couldn’t help feeling partly to blame. As it was, he’d been throwing a lot of subtle anger at her. Not that he wasn’t still mad.
Right now he acknowledged that it was more important to set his own frustration aside and do what was right for Mason. And that involved making sure his mother took better care of herself.
As soon as he figured out what to do about Sprigs so they could set this ordeal behind them, Dawson would take the necessary steps to ensure that Mason had everything he needed. First order of business would be figuring out an appropriate amount of child support. Melanie was stubborn. She’d argue about taking the money. He could see that it was important for her to feel as though she was taking care of her son.
Dawson could tighten his own belt enough to swing paying her bills.
A noise shot straight through him. He held steady, and that was a good thing, because that small, honking-like-a-duck sound came out of Melanie.
She was asleep on his shoulder and that shouldn’t give him satisfaction.
It did.
* * *
MELANIE WOKE WITH a start and quickly scanned the room. Dawson was pacing in front of the window, holding Mason. The image of him shirtless, with their son against his chest, could melt a glacier in Antarctica. She wouldn’t be able to erase that picture for a long time, and maybe a little piece of her heart didn’t want to. “How is he?”
“His fever is down and he hasn’t coughed again.”
“That’s great news.” Maybe life could be like this? Dawson could pitch in to help share some of the load. His mother was wrong. He looked pretty happy holding his son. “I should change his diaper.”
“Changed it when he woke up. That wasn’t as easy as it looks. On the internet they use a baby doll to demonstrate. This little guy doesn’t hold still.” Dawson seemed pleased with himself.
Melanie had worked so hard at creating a life for herself and Mason without really including others. She’d moved to Houston to get away from Dawson, but that had also separated her from her family and any help they could give. Her sister was busy with college in Austin. Maybe it was time to let someone else in. “Did you get any sleep?”
“No.”
“I can take Mason for a while. Let you get some shut-eye.” She made a move to get up.
Dawson waved her off.
“Not necessary. I don’t need that much rest. Plus, I was doing some thinking. We should talk.” He paused—so not a good sign—and she prepared for the bombshell he was about to drop.
“Mind if I get a cup of coffee first?” she asked, needing to put off the conversation until she had enough caffeine inside her to handle what was sure to come next. A discussion about Dawson in their life, permanently.
“You don’t drink coffee,” he said.
“I need caffeine and I’d kill for a toothbrush right now.”
“You’ll find that and toothpaste in the bathroom. Pepsi’s in the fridge. I had the store manager cut up some limes and there’s ice in the bucket.” He motioned toward the counter. Sure enough, ice and a glass waited.
“Seriously?” Okay, now she knew she was dreaming.
A few minutes later, clean teeth sealed the deal. This felt too good to be real life.
“That’s still how you like it, right?” he asked as she walked into the room.
“Yeah. I just didn’t think—”
“What? I’d remember?”
“That you’d care.” She pulled out the baggy of wedge-sliced limes from the pint-size fridge.
“If you doubted my feelings before, then you don’t need to anymore. I’m ‘all in’ with everything connected to this little boy.” His tone was laced with just enough ice to send a chill rippling down her back. It wasn’t much, not enough for someone who didn’t know him to pick up on, but she knew.
He bounced the baby on his knee and Mason was too happy for her to ruin the moment by shooting a zinger back. Besides, she didn’t want to start a fight in front of him, and since she was about to have her favorite drink courtesy of Dawson, she decided to let his comments slide as she fixed her soda.
Ice in a glass, followed by Pepsi and then the lime and this was shaping up to be the best morning she’d had in a long while. She took a sip and could’ve sworn she heard angels sing. “I slept crazy-good on that couch last night.” She glanced at the clock. “Correction, this morning. Thanks for seeing to Mason.”
“He needed his breakfast and you have to take better care of yourself.”
So much for polite conversation.
Melanie decided nothing would ruin her first Pepsi. She walked over to the small table and chairs nestled in the corner rather than sit in the living area.
Not having to rush around to change Mason’s diaper and fix him something to eat left her feeling a little useless. This should be a glorious time. Had she forgotten how to have an easy morning? This wasn’t exactly a normal situation. She tried her best to ignore the big presence on the chair, but he seemed intent on sweating her out.
“Okay. Fine. What did you want to discuss?” she asked.
Dawson was on his feet. He made a beeline toward her, and her pulse beat faster with every step he came closer. She set her Pepsi down in time to receive Mason.
“Do you smell that?” he asked, turning his attention toward the appliances.
“No. What?” She sniffed near Mason’s diaper, grateful that wasn’t the kind of scent he was talking about.
“Did you leave anything on in the bathroom?”
“Like what? There’s only a hair dryer in there. I think you’d hear it.” She glanced around the room, and must’ve seen the smoke at the same time as he did.
Dawson raced toward the door to the hallway and placed his hand on it. “It’s hot. We’re not going out that way.”
“That’s not good.” Melanie tamped down the panic rising in her chest.
“No. It isn’t.”
“Why aren’t the smoke detectors going off?” She motioned toward the sprinkler on the ceiling.
“Good question. The control panel might’ve been disabled,” he said with a frustrated grunt.
