I look at Aurora. “Yeah. I can see that.”
“She’s awake now,” the nurse says, glancing at me. “Would you like to hold her?”
“I—uh—no.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. “I mean—I don’t know if I should.”
“That’s alright. I’ll show you how.” She leans into the crib and scoops Aurora up with practiced ease, cradling her against her chest like it’s second nature as she quickly unhooks a tiny monitor from her foot.
“No, I know how, I’ve got nephews and little sisters. I’ve birthed calves and goats and puppies.”Shut up, Kade.I sound like Georgia, rambling like a fool. “That’s not the problem, I just—”
The nurse ignores me and circles the crib, stopping at my side.
“Here we go, sweetheart,” she coos. “Let’s get you settled.” Then she turns and looks up at me. “You ready?”
“Not even a little.”
I wipe my hands again, eyes flicking to Aurora where they stay.
“I feel like I should bathe in hand sanitizer or something,” I mutter, swallowing hard. “I mean, I showered—I’m clean, I just—”
She chuckles and steps forward, placing the squirming baby into my arms. My hands instinctively adjust, supporting her head, her back.
“Just sway with her a bit,” the nurse says, backing toward the door. “Walking helps. Talk to her, even if it feels silly. Your voice will comfort her.”
Eyes locked on Aurora’s face, I nod. The door clicks shut behind the nurse, and then, it’s just us.
I pace slowly, bouncing her a little, careful not to scare or hurt her. I’m not exactly sure where her injuries are or if she’s sore, and I sure as hell don’t want to make her cry.
It’s been a long damn time since I’ve held a baby this small. Was in high school when Colby and Clem were born, and overseas when both my nephews arrived. I’m out of practice. It feels clumsy and awkward at first, but she settles into me like she belongs there. Her head tucks under my chin, and I exhale for the first time in what feels like hours.
Just say hi.
“Hey,” I whisper. “So uh… I’m Kade. You probably don’t care about that yet, but you’re gonna hear it a lot, so you might as well get used to it.”
Aurora blinks up at me, eyes wide, curious, and unbothered.
“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” I admit, voice hushed. “Shit—I mean, crap. Crap. Gotta start working on that. You’re a sponge, right? That’s what they say. Kids hear everything. My sister Gemma has these little ass—” I shake my head and groan. “Buttholes that repeat everything.”
I shift her in my arms, trying to get more comfortable.
“Anyway, I read some stuff online. About sippy cups and baby-proofing and formula. But I also read that babies your age eat like, little fruit puffs? Is that right? I don’t know. There was something about soft junk like mashed potatoes and stuff that’s chopped real small.”
My mind flies back to my shitty studio and the contents of my kitchen. Have absolutely none of those things.
“You’re probably too young for jerky and beer, huh?”
A little gurgle slips from her mouth, and I freeze.
Suddenly, she’s smiling, two little Tic Tacs halfway out of her gums on full display.
“You think I’m funny?” I whisper around a grin. “Shit, kid. You’re in for a real rude awakening. I’m blander than Mrs. Whittaker's sweet tea.”
I run a finger gently over the soft curve of her cheek. It’s warm, chubby, and so pink, it reminds me of the hollyhock fieldat home in July. She’s got a dimple starting to form when she smiles—just one. I shift her a bit and smooth down her dark curls. I’m surprised her hair is closer to my shade. Not Marlee’s.
That thought does something weird to my chest.
I circle the room again, pacing, bouncing, talking. Tell her all about the dog I found, and then show her the pictures Mom sent me a few days ago.
“She said the little bast—” Groaning, I shake my head. “I meancutelittle beast—wasn’t hers, but look at him all clean and curled up in her lap like he belongs there.”
