Forty-three days of sobriety and almost a month with his family worked wonders for Jared. Refreshed and renewed, he was ready to face life again. He still wrestled with guilt and feelings of worthlessness, but he’d lost the desire to drink them away. Mom and Cara had urged him to return to church, or at least pick up a Bible, but he wasn’t ready for that. He still had more reckoning with himself to do before he confronted God.

He’d hated leaving Weatherton, but he had to come home to Jacksonville to complete paperwork for his new job. The position didn’t open until mid-October, but he had to complete a physical, background check, and the contract form by September eighth to secure his spot.

He walked through his house, finding everything as he’d left it. Two stacks of mail were piled neatly on his counter. Thank goodness for caring neighbors who took care of the house while he was gone. After he lowered the thermostat—the first week of September in coastal Carolina differed little from the heat of August—he gathered his bags from where he’d dropped them at the front door.

His mom had insisted on doing all his laundry before he’d left, claiming she missed taking care of him. He hadn’t fully appreciated her outpouring of love until now—when he only had one small bag of dirty clothes from the two nights on his way home. He’d always hated spending his first day home doing laundry, but now he wouldn’t have to.

Once he’d added the few clothes to the laundry hamper and unpacked his suitcase, he returned to the kitchen and sat on a barstool. Piece by piece he went through his mail, sorting it into piles of junk, bills, and others.

The doorbell chimed.

Probably Mr. Gunn returning my key after he saw the truck in the driveway. He grabbed a bakery box off the counter that contained one of his sister’s pecan pies. That and a gift card to the steakhouse was his thank-you gift to the Gunns for watching his house.

Smiling wide, he opened the door. His smile dropped when he saw Sybil Hollis, a woman who lived in his neighborhood—who had also been one of his bad drunken decisions.

Was this some kind of joke? He’d been home less than an hour and was already confronted with a blast from the past.

“Hi.” She rocked on her feet and had her hands behind her back.

She wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, an improvement from the racy outfit she’d worn the night they’d gone home together. Another advantage of sobriety—a healthy respect for women and their bodies.

“Hi.” He eyed her warily, curious why she’d stopped by. They’d been friendly before that night, greeting each other as sort of neighbors, but hadn’t acknowledged each other since then.

“I saw your truck and assumed you came home. Mr. Gunn told me you’d gone to Wyoming for a spell, and I’ve been stalking your driveway.” Her cheeks transformed to a bubble gum pink. “Not stalking stalking—just looking to see if you were home yet.”

“Did you need something?”

“I have to talk to you.” Her chest rose and fell at a fast pace.

“You have my number, right?” He crinkled his eyes, confused by her presence. “You could have called.”

She cringed, and he had a moment of remorse for sounding like a jerk—he hadn’t meant to. “It’s not really an over-the-phone kind of conversation.”

“Oh.” He drew out the two-letter word into a three-second breath. “What’s going on?”

“Can I come in?” She’d moved her hands in front of her, and she dug her nails into her skin.

He nodded and motioned her in, then closed the door behind her. “What’s going on?”

“You might want to sit down.”

“I’m fine here.” The thought to make her leave crossed his mind. Her behavior made him uncomfortable, and he wondered what he’d gotten into. They’d had a one-night stand during one of his drunken nights. Had he gotten involved with a psycho who wouldn’t let it go? No, he knew enough about her to know she had a level head.

She clamped her hands together. “I don’t know how to say this, and I want you to know upfront, I don’t expect anything of you. I just thought you had the right to know.”

He furrowed his brows. “Know what?”

“I. I’m uh…” She trailed off and took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what?” He had to have heard wrong.

“I’m pregnant. You’re the father.”

He ran a hand through his hair, processing the information. “Are you sure?”

She scowled. “That I’m pregnant or that you’re the father?”

“Both?”

Fire flashed in her eyes. “Contrary to what my actions with you might imply, I don’t give myself to every man I meet. Far from it. And if I weren't sure, I wouldn’t be here having this incredibly awkward conversation.”

His legs turned to noodles. She’d been right—he should have sat down. Somehow, he walked five steps to the sofa and sank into it dropping the pie box beside him, covered his mouth with his hand as he took in all the implications.

“Here’s the first sonogram as proof.” She reached into her purse and handed him a thin sheet of filmy paper.

Emotions overwhelmed him. He gripped the photo with both hands and stared at the little blob. He knew enough about Sybil to know she told the truth. “This is our baby?”

She nodded and reached for the sonogram. “Like I said, I don’t expect anything from you, but thought you should know.”

He clung to the picture, unable to let it go. “This is my child, too. Of course, I’m going to be involved in its life.”

“I’m giving the baby up for adoption.”

For the second time in minutes, the air got knocked from him. “No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” She frowned and yanked away the picture.

“You can’t give away our baby.” He hadn’t completed the entire thought process, but he was a Scott, and Scott men owned up to their responsibilities.

“I didn’t make this decision lightly.” She moved away, crossed her arms and adopted a defensive stance. “This baby deserves more than I give.”

“How so?”

“Raising a child is a lifetime commitment. I’ve never even owned a pet because I didn’t want the responsibility.”

“So you’re just taking the easy way out?” His words kept coming out harsher than he meant, but he’d received a major blow that kept his mind from properly functioning.

Her jaw twitched. “That’s the furthest thing from the truth. I love this child already, and because I love this baby, I’m doing what’s best.”

“I’m sorry I snapped. I’m still trying to figure this all out.” He drew a calming breath. “Can you sit down, let us have an open conversation about this? Please?”

She hesitated, but inched slowly toward the sofa and took a seat on the opposite end. “I’m sorry for dropping this all on you. Maybe it would have been better if I’d never told you.”

“No, I’m glad you told me.” He took a minute to think about what she’d said, and realized it was only fair to hear her out. “I apologize for my complete rudeness—I, well, I’m sorry. Why do you think adoption is the best option?”

“I didn’t have the best childhood. I don’t even know who my dad is.” She stared out the window as she continued. “The only thing I know about parenting is how not to. I’m not even sure I know that. I’m messed up—and I didn’t even know it—not until faced with having a child of my own.”

“Lots of people with traumatic or imperfect childhoods have children and are great parents.
And to be honest, from everything I’ve heard from friends, no parent knows what they’re doing in the beginning. It’s all a learning experience.”

“Maybe, but I can’t risk that for my child.” Her eyes begged him to understand.

He did, to an extent. But he couldn’t ignore that this child was his flesh and blood. “I’ll raise him then.”

She laughed—a joyless, bitter, disbelieving sound. “You have your whole life ahead of you. You’d give that up for an unplanned pregnancy?”

“Men younger than me already have children. I’d have to adjust my lifestyle, but I’ll do it.” He narrowed his gaze. “I want this child. I won’t turn my back on my responsibilities.”

“I..I..” She stammered, not finishing the thought.

“You what?”

“I didn’t expect you to want to be involved.” Tears sprung from the corners of her eyes. “It throws a wrench in my plans. I don’t know what to do now. I can’t give this baby up for adoption without your consent.”

As if he didn’t already feel like a heel, now he’d made her cry. There had to be a solution. “Does a final decision have to be made now?”

“No, but I’d like to start looking at families.”

“Can we make a deal?” Dear Lord, please let her hear me and know my sincerity for wanting this child. Only after he’d silently uttered the words did he realize he’d prayed for the first time in months.

“Depends.” She offered a weak smile. “What do you have?”

“Don’t make any decisions yet. Let me be a part of this pregnancy, and let’s get to know each other.” He bit his tongue before adding the final stipulation. It was a risk, and he’d never been a gambler, but he knew he had to offer an out. “By eight months, if you don’t think we can raise this child and be co-parents, then I’ll sign the papers.”

“You’d do that?”

“I want what’s best for our child, as well, but we have different opinions on what that entails. Regardless, it’s a decision we need to make together, and to do that, we have to know and trust each other.”

Her head jerked as if she were taken aback. “You’re more than I thought you were.”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew you were a decent guy, but there’s a maturity about you I never realized.”

He couldn’t stop his laughter. “If that were true, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

She shook her head. “But you own up to the consequences. Few men would. And what you said about working together, that makes a lot of sense.”

“So it’s a deal?”

“It’s a deal.”

He extended a hand. “Can we shake on it?”

Accepting his grasp, she smiled. “This should be interesting.”

“What’s next?”

“I have another ultrasound in two weeks. If the baby cooperates, I should find out the gender.”

Emotions he couldn’t describe came alive inside him. “Can I go with you?”

“I think I’d like that.”

“How’s the pregnancy been so far? Does everything seem normal?” Since he didn’t know much about pregnancies, that’s all he could think to ask.

“My blood pressure was high in the beginning, but they put me on a safe medication, and that’s kept it in check. Other than that, everything is fine.”

“What about the medical costs? I can call and see if I can add you to my insurance.” Once he made the offer, he realized that could get complicated since his new job was a contract working on electrical systems in aircraft and didn’t offer insurance. He was pretty sure he could keep his government insurance for a time, if he paid for it. No matter, he’d paid whatever bills she needed, whatever the cost.

“I appreciate the offer, but I have a generous insurance plan through my employer with low co-pays.”

“Let me pay those at least. You shouldn’t have to absorb the entire cost.”

A spark of trust ignited in her eyes. “How about we alternate?”

“Never let it be said I can’t compromise.” His respect for her grew, and he found himself curious about the details of her past. What had transpired to make her so independent? And yet convinced her she couldn’t be a good parent?

Silence fell between them, and Sybil stood. “I should head home. I’m sure you need time to think about all this.”

“You have my number still, right?”

“Yes.”

“Call me if anything comes up, and text me all the appointment dates and times that you know, please.” He almost asked her to stay and share a pizza so they could talk and begin the process of knowing each other, but he realized she was right again—he needed time alone.

One thing she wouldn’t be right about, however, was putting this child up for adoption. He’d fight with everything in him to keep his child.

He saw Sybil out, then went out back to sit on his deck. After the bombshell Sybil had dropped, the walls closed in on him, and he needed to go somewhere that didn’t restrict him. If ever he needed a drink, now would be that time.

Flexing his fingers, he fought the urge to call up a buddy and go out. He wouldn’t throw away forty-three days of hard-earned sobriety for one minor incident.

Okay, so it’s not exactly minor, but I’m still not giving in.

It would be his luck to have consequences catch up to him after he’d cleaned up his act. Luck has nothing to do with it. He leaned his head back and fixed his gaze on the clear blue sky. Inhaled deeply from his stomach and slowly expelled the air.

“I’m going to be a dad.”

The prospect both terrified and thrilled him. What better motivation to keep his life on track? But the responsibility…that daunted him. Was he up to the challenge? He didn’t have a choice in the matter. Like it or not, he had helped create a tiny human life.

Even now, as he processed what this news meant for him, he knew he wanted this baby. The irony didn’t escape him. He, the man who loved his freedom and didn’t entangle himself with romantic relationships, wanted to fight to keep a child that would involve a lifetime commitment. Surely God had a sense of humor.

His phone rang, and he remembered he’d never called his mom to let her know he’d made it home. He glanced at the screen, expecting it to be her, but saw Wyatt’s name instead. He breathed a sigh of relief while also experiencing the effects of a punch to the stomach.

How could he tell his mom and sister? He wasn’t afraid of what they’d think—he’d willingly own his mistakes and take whatever were the results. No, he didn’t want to upset Cara. Life wasn’t fair. He’d done something foolish and now had a baby on the way. Meanwhile, Cara, who deserved the baby she desperately wanted, struggled to have one.

He clenched a fist and answered the phone. Wyatt’s call came at the perfect time. He needed a friend to confide in and help him sort out this mess. To keep his mind occupied on the problem at hand, so he didn’t cave to temptation and go have a drink.