by Kaylee Ryan
“Hey, my knight in shining armor,” Dawn pipes up.
This causes Ridge and Reagan to stop in their tracks. I whip my head around to my co-worker and best friend. Has she lost her damn mind?
She points at herself. “The flat-tire girl. You stopped to help me last week.” She grins. “Thank you again.”
Ridge visibly stiffens for a second; if my eyes weren’t glued to him, I would’ve missed it. I watch as he quickly paints on a grin. “Anytime. Glad I could help.” He doesn’t stick around for idle chit-chat; he turns and makes his way down the hall, disappearing behind the waiting room door. Reagan drops the clipboard off at the reception desk with the promise that they’ll call to schedule the next appointment.
“What the hell was that?” I hiss at Dawn. I’m mindful of the level of my voice, little ears being everywhere.
“What? He’s the guy I was telling you about. The night I had a flat tire on my way home from work, he stopped in the pouring rain to help me. You know him?”
“Yes. I graduated with his sister. He was two years ahead of me in school.”
“Damn, they didn’t have guys who looked like that at my high school. Please tell me he was a pimply-faced geek back then.”
I think back to Ridge and his band of buddies. None of them would even come close to pimply-faced or geeky then—or now, I’m sure. “Sorry, no can do.”
“You have all the luck,” she whines.
“Listen, he’s going through a lot. Their whole family is, so he doesn’t need you hitting on him right now. Besides, that’s unprofessional,” I scold her.
“I wasn’t flirting. I was simply showing my appreciation for him stopping to help me.”
“Uh-huh.” I laugh then mock-glare at her. “Get back to work.”
She mumbles something under her breath about being friends with the boss, and I just smile wider.
Dawn and I met in nursing school, and after graduation we got an apartment together in Mason, a few towns over.
That’s where I met Cal. He was a third-year resident at the hospital Dawn and I worked at. He was charming, educated, and good-looking. On the outside, we had a ton of things in common. On paper, we were the perfect match. On the inside . . . not so much. I fell fast and hard, thought we were in love, until it was obvious that we weren’t. It took me a year to see it, to admit to the signs. By then, it was too late. He was spiraling out of control. He lived across the hall, so no matter how many times I tried to break things off with him, he was always there, lurking in the background. When my mom called and said Dr. Harris was looking for a new nursing coordinator, I jumped at the chance to interview. I missed living so close to my parents.’
Dawn began looking too, and I happened to mention that in my interview. To my surprise, Dr. Harris needed a floor nurse as well. The practice has been here since I was a little girl, but the original staff was retiring, including the physicians. It couldn’t have happened at a better time. I needed to get away from Cal, and Dawn was more than willing to tag along for the adventure.
After we were both offered positions, we packed slowly, making weekend trips to my parents’ to move our things. We both had to give two weeks’ notice, and I didn’t want to have to deal with the drama that Cal was sure to cause by us moving. Lucky for us, he went away for the weekend with friends and we were gone by the time he came home. No forwarding address. He knows I’m from Jackson, but we’re not alone here. Dawn and I have my parents’ and grandparents, and that alone helps me sleep at night.
I shake away the memories and try to focus on the task at hand. We’ve got a full day of patients who need my full attention.
Chapter 11
He’s growing, gaining weight like he should be, and all looks good according to Dr. Harris. He’s only been home a few days, but it’s a relief to know I’m doing something right. I’m totally flying by the seat of my pants with this one. I don’t know what I would’ve done without Mom and Reagan. One, if not both of them, has been with me since the moment I brought him home. I appreciate them so much, but at the same time I feel like they’re hovering. I have to learn to do this on my own, as a single father. That’s not a title I ever imagined being associated with, but life is often unexpected.
“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Reagan asks.
I don’t take my eyes off the road—precious cargo and all that. “Sorry, a lot on my mind,” I confess.
“What’s up?”
I laugh. “Everything.”
“Ridge,” she says softly.
“I’m good, really. Just thinking about how much you and Mom have helped me with little man.” I glance at her in the rearview mirror. “I think I need to try it on my own, you know?”
She’s quiet for several minutes. I don’t look at her, afraid of what I’ll see. Maybe she thinks I’m not capable.
“You’re good with him,” she finally says. “We just want you to know that you’re not alone. We’re with you every step of the way.”
I take a minute to let her words sink in. “I know, and I love you both for it, but I have to do this. I have to learn to take care of him. You and Mom can’t be there every day for the rest of his life. I have to learn to be both Mom and Dad to him.”
Silence greets me. I glance in the mirror and see she’s wiping a tear from her eyes. What the fuck? Tears? I hate tears.
“Reagan?”
“I’m so damn proud of you, big brother. Knox is a lucky little boy to have you for a father. I don’t know many men who would be thrown into your position unexpectedly and handle it like you have. Like you are.”
I nod, choked up a little at her praise. We drive the rest of the way to my place in silence. It’s not until I pull into the drive that I break it.
“I need to run to the store and stop by the office. Do you mind watching him?” I turn to face her. “I’m going back full time on Monday. I just need to stock up on a few things for next week.”
“Snuggle time with my adorable nephew? You got it, brother.”
“Thanks, sister.”
She grins. When we were little, I insisted on calling her ‘sister’ instead of Reagan. When she was old enough to talk, she called me ‘brother.’ Over the years, it’s just kind of stuck. It’s our thing, I guess.
I carry my little man into the house and unstrap him from his seat. Holding him close, I breathe in his baby scent. In just a few short days, I’ve become addicted to it. Addicted to my son.
I have a son.
That knowledge still rocks me to the core. Melissa and her surprise is not something I would have expected. Losing her after her waking up? Well, my world was rocked once again in just a few short days. I’m pissed. How can someone who had their life’s dream in their grasp, someone who lived through so many hardships and obstacles, be taken from this world just when she’s getting what she’s always dreamed of?
I’m angry, and if I’m being honest, scared out of my fucking mind. Everything he needs falls on me. Those are big shoes to fill.
“All right, little man. I’m going to go run a few errands, but Aunt Reagan is going to keep you company. You’re in charge,” I tell him.
“Hey!” Reagan says. Her hands rest on her hips as she tries to glare at me, but I can see the amusement in her eyes. “Give me my nephew and be gone. We have cartoons to watch.”
I kiss my son on the forehead and hand him over to my sister, doing the same to her once he’s settled in her arms. “Thank you. I’ll hurry.”
“Don’t. I have nothing to do today. I go back to work on Monday.”
“Thank you, Reagan. For everything.”
She smiles and waves me off.
My first stop is the shop. Dad has been here every day keeping things going—this was his business, after all. I pull into a parking spot and look at the building in front of me.
Beckett Construction.
Last year, Dad decided it was time to retire. Mom has always been a stay-at-home mom, and business has been good ov
er the years. Dad worked his ass off to make it a success while investing in their future. Retiring early and being able to financially do the things they’ve always wanted to do is the American dream.
As I stare at the building, I wonder if my son will one day want to work for Beckett Construction. Will he want to continue the legacy my father built? I won’t be that dad who insists that he does. My parents’ let both Reagan and me make our own career choices, and I plan to do the same with my son.
My son.
It’s still so new, like I could wake from the dream at any time. Then I remember the heartache, the pain of losing Melissa, the pain that my son will never know his mother. A few quick pictures from my cell phone are all we’ll have, other than her last name as his first. It seemed fitting—and let’s be honest, Knox is a kickass name for my little man.
Climbing out of the truck, I head inside to find Dad sitting at my desk. His glasses are sitting on the edge of his nose while he reads something on the computer in front of him.
“What’s got you so enthralled?”
“Just looking over some invoices. Everything’s good to start the Robinson remodel on Monday.”
“Good to hear. Thank you, Dad.”
He waves his hand in the air. “You forget, I started this business,” he reminds me.
“No. I also didn’t forget that you retired to spend more time with Mom, yet here you are.”
“Son, filling in for a week or two is no hardship to your mother and me. You have our new grandson at home to take care of. Sure, this was all sprung on us, but if you were married and had been expecting, I would’ve done the same thing, so stop thanking me. Now, how’s my grandson? He had an appointment today, right?”
“He’s growing. Dr. Harris says all is well. He has to go back in a month.”
“Good to hear.”
“Yeah, it’s a relief.”
“You’re not alone in this, son. You need to lean on us.”
I love this man. “Thanks, Dad. I know that, I just feel like I need to start doing it on my own. I mean, Mom and Reagan have been there each night and I appreciate it, but I have to do this. You know what I mean?”
He nods. “I do. I respect the hell out of you for that, Ridge, and I’m damn proud to be your father. Just remember that you don’t have to do this on your own. I understand that you need time to settle in and get you and your boy into a routine. I get that. I also understand that it’s okay to ask for help. Hell, your mother and I relied on your grandparents, both of them, when you kids were little. Parents need to have a life too. You need to find the balance, and we’ll be here to help you do that.”
“I know. I just need it to be me and him for a while. It’s been a whirlwind and I just want some time with my son, to let it all sink in.”
“I’ll handle your mother, but Reagan is all yours.” He winks.
“She’s with him now. I mentioned this earlier, so I think she’ll understand.”
“Just remember, any time—day or night—we’ll be there.”
I nod, afraid to speak. Afraid the emotion of the moment will show in my voice. I’m not an overly emotional guy, but anyone who’s seen me this past week would never believe that statement.
“Now, the Robinson job.” Dad thankfully changes the subject. He notices, but doesn’t mention it.
I swallow hard. “Yeah, the remodel.”
“Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Robinson are leaving to go house-hunting in Florida in two weeks. Their plan is to sell the house here and buy a condo, so it’s less maintenance, and also buy a condo in Florida. I talked to Mr. Robinson this morning, and he assures me that his daughter and son-in-law will be here and can make any necessary decisions.”
“Good. Sounds like it’s all under control. Do you need anything from me? I’ll be back into the swing of things on Monday.”
“Nope. Got it covered, son. I’ll probably hang out next week and get you caught up on anything I might’ve forgotten. Your mother will be in Heaven spoiling that son of yours.” He grins.
He acts like Mom is the one who will be doing all the spoiling. I’ll let him pretend, but we both know the truth. Instead, I just smile back at him and nod in agreement.
After answering a few e-mails, I say good-bye to my dad and head to the store. Mom and Reagan have been cooking and bringing meals, but I still want to stock up on some easy foods. I also want to check out the baby section. My parents’ and friends, along with Reagan, picked out everything for Knox’s room, and I just want to shop for my son, for once. I have no clue what he needs or what I should even buy, but I just feel this need to get him something. I know clothes are always a good thing, but I don’t know what size.
Me: Hey, I’m at the store. What size clothes does he wear?
Pathetic, I know. I have to text my sister to find out what size clothes to buy my son. Newborn, I assume? I don’t want to be that dad; I want to know how to take care of my son on my own. I still have a hell of a lot to learn though.
Reagan: 0–3 months right now. They’re a little big, but he’s going to grow. Don’t get newborn.
Well, shit. Good thing I asked her.
Me: Thanks.
Slipping my phone into my pocket, I grab a cart and head toward the hygiene products. I grab body wash, deodorant, razors, shaving cream, and shampoo. From there, I head to the baby section. I can honestly say this is an all-time first for me. Pulling my phone back out of my pocket, I pull up my photo gallery, having snapped a picture of his diapers and formula before leaving today. I grab three packs of diapers, since the little guy seems to go through them like crazy. I also grab a box of wipes, because I don’t want that shit on me—literally. Next stop is the formula. I add three cans to my cart and skim over all the other items. Baby food, cereal, teething biscuits. I’m overwhelmed, but I assume he’s not old enough for this stuff or Mom and Reagan would’ve already had a supply ready to go. The next aisle over is toys and pacifiers. My little guy loves his, and it’s been a lifesaver at times when I couldn’t get his bottle ready fast enough. I throw another pack in the cart; it’s the same as he has now, so I should be good to go. On second thought, I grab the package and read the back. Newborn. Perfect. I toss it back into the cart and wheel a little further down the aisle to the toys.
I find a set of plush car keys. The package says they’re soft, which I assume is a good thing, so I pick up a few more, plus a couple other toys that the packaging assures me are good for my baby’s development. I grab a couple more packs of bottles because those things are a bitch to clean; plus, the more you have the better, right? There’s also this basket thing for the dishwasher—that’s a must-have. I toss it in the cart as well.
The next aisle is blankets and towels, and I grab a few of each along with a pack of wash cloths, burp cloths, and receiving blankets. Cloth diapers? No, thank you. I roll right on past those.
Onesies? I didn’t know that’s what they were called, but he wears them. I grab a pack of eight plain white in 0–3 months and toss them into the cart, adding some socks as well. They’re so damn tiny.
Turning the corner, I see the clothes. I have no clue as to what I really need, so I’m just tossing random shit into the cart. Sleepers. I know those are easy to dress him in, and who doesn’t want to lie around in pajamas all day? I pick out a few and add them to the cart. I come across what looks like the baby version of sweatpants; they are so damn small I can’t help the smile that tips up my lips. I grab a couple pairs, thinking he can wear them with those body suit things—onesies, I think it was?
A few more random clothing items and the cart is filling up. I’m now in the furniture, where I see a pen-looking thing that’s called a Pack ‘n Play. I pull out my phone to do some research. Looks like it’s used to travel, with a safe place for him to sleep. Might be useful for the living room, or even the office when I need to get things done. I grab one off the shelf and slide it under the cart.
The next thing that catches my eyes is a bouncing seat. T
he box says it’s soothing, and again I pull out my phone and research. All good reviews. I grab the one that has all the bells and whistles—literally, as it has toys attached. I slide it under the cart next to the pen thing. The next aisle is books, and I grab one about what to expect during the first year of life. Looking down, my cart is loaded with things for my son. A sense of pride fills me that I can afford to do this for him, to give him the things he needs.
With one last quick glance, I leave the baby section behind and head toward the groceries, getting milk, eggs, bread, lunch meat, chips, and frozen pizza. Laundry detergent for me and more for Knox. Mom brought some over, but you never know when you’ll need it, and I don’t want to run out. Those final additions have my cart overflowing—another first for me.
I head toward the front of the store, needing to get home.
I miss my little man.
Chapter 12
Aunt Flow has decided to make her appearance a few days early. I’m cranky and irritable, and the last thing I want to do is brave the grocery store. I don’t have a choice, though, since Dawn is working late today. I thought about texting her to bring some supplies home, but I’ve searched the house high and low and we have nothing. How is it possible that out of the two of us, we have one tampon in this entire house? I strip out of my scrubs, throw on some yoga pants and a Sam Hunt concert T-shirt, and tie my hair in a knot on top of my head.
Good enough.
It’s not like I have anyone to impress.
At the store, I don’t bother with a cart, just head straight for the feminine hygiene section. I grab two boxes of tampons and two boxes of panty liners and call it good, stopping at the first register to wait in line. I can’t help but notice the guy in front of me. He’s wearing jeans that mold to his ass, not leaving anything to the imagination, and a black T-shirt that fits tight around his muscular arms. Tattoos peek through, running down his arm. Wait, those tattoos look familiar. Tall, dark hair, inked . . . please don’t let it be him. Shit! I’m not taking the chance of him seeing me like this; I look like hell, and have an entire arsenal of menstrual supplies in my arms.
