Barb Han - Texan's Baby

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. 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.