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.
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.