Chapter Three
Finnegan stood outside her door, frozen. You can count on me. She meant it, he heard it in her voice.
That wasn’t something he’d heard a lot of growing up. If anything, his parents’ absence was the one thing he could count on. How many nannies had he and his brother gone through in their youth? Not that he and Philip had ever given them a reason to stick around. They were too eager to put tacks in their nannies’ chairs and hemorrhoid cream in place of their toothpaste. They were relentless. So much so, their parents had divided them up, sending them to boarding schools on opposite sides of the country. By the time they’d reached college, they were different people—never as close as they were. Then Philip met Annie, and Finn had been infected. Being close to anyone was no longer an option.
You can count on me.
Jessa’s humming reached him, soft and sweet. Just like she was. Exactly what he wanted for his son. Oscar deserved that—to have someone read and sing and laugh with him. To love him unconditionally. He didn’t know how to do that, how to let anyone close. The risk was too great.
He turned on his heel and headed back across the apartment. Why the hell had he come home early to begin with? There was enough work to keep him occupied at the office, away from the distractions.
Yet, he couldn’t stay away.
The need to be close to Oscar was overwhelming. The wolf needed it, he needed it. Less than two hours after leaving them at the apartment, he was back.
As Oscar was being cradled close by Jessa, he had a phone call to make. Time to let the others know what had happened. He owed them that. Hell, he owed them a hell of a lot more. He pushed his office door closed, lifted the handle of the old-fashioned landline phone, and started punching in numbers.
“You ready?” Hollis asked.
“No,” Finn admitted. “But waiting won’t make it easier.”
“It won’t,” Hollis agreed.
Anders and Dante answered, but Malachi went straight to voicemail.
“Did you really think he’d answer?” Dante asked.
“I hoped,” Finn said.
“So what’s going on? I’ve been goose-pimpled out all day,” Anders’s connection was patchy—his cabin was in the middle of nowhere and nothing.
“I have a son.” Finn figured ripping off the Band-Aid was better than dragging it out. “We have a new…”
“I thought puppies were off the table?” Anders asked.
“Jesus, Finn,” Dante groaned. “Did you forget how to use a condom? The instructions are right there on the frigging box.”
“I was careful, dammit. I’m always careful. Guess it didn’t work.” They had every right to be upset. He went on, “He’s here. No changing it.”
“Just one?” Anders asked. “So, we don’t have litters? Man, that’s a relief.” He chuckled.
“Just one,” Hollis joined in. “He appears, for the time being, human.”
The line was silent.
“Human?” Anders asked. “So, no wet nose and wagging tail?”
“Are you saying we won’t pass this on?” Dante asked.
“I’m not saying that,” Hollis said. “But, for now, there’s no indication that Oscar will suffer from our affliction.”
“You mean he’s not a werewolf?” Dante pushed.
“Not yet,” Hollis said. “Maybe never.”
“Then why were my Spidey-senses tingling?” Anders asked.
Dante sighed. “Yeah, I knew something was up, too.”
Just like Finn had known Oscar was his. The bond was there, instantaneously. As much as he wanted to believe Hollis was right, he knew the truth. His voice was thick, his throat tight, as he murmured, “He’s one of us.”
“Shit,” Dante groaned.
“What’s happened?” Hollis asked.
“I…I know he’s mine. I feel it—that connection we have. Only stronger.” Finn sat down in his chair and rested his head on the headrest.
“So, in three weeks, what happens?” Anders asked. “We gonna have some mini-wolf running around chewing up the city?”
“Three weeks…” A full moon meant taking Oscar someplace safe. “I’ll take him to the reserve. Safest there.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Hollis said.
“Me, too,” Anders offered. “Be good to have a change of pace. Meet the little guy.”
“Well, shit, guess I have to come, too,” Dante said. “Since we don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“I’d advise against it. You know the Others can track us easier when we’re together. Just because they know Finn is alpha doesn’t mean they know you two exist.” Hollis’s no-nonsense response earned a snort from Anders and silence from Dante.
“He’s right. Mal and I are known—”
“Fuck ’em,” Anders said. “I’m not scared of some pack from the Dark Ages. What, they’re gonna chase us down in wheelchairs and club us with walkers?”
“I’ll try to talk to Malachi,” Hollis offered.
“Until then, be alert.” Finn’s voice was hard. “The Others aren’t going to like this. Tomorrow, the world will know about Oscar. And I don’t know what they’ll do.” Jessa would need a security guard, just in case.
“You know damn well they’ll be out for blood,” Anders said. “It ain’t gonna be pretty.”
“I still think now’s not the time to reunite,” Hollis said.
Because when they were together, the Others knew it. Somehow the five of them were linked. And that link grew stronger, more traceable, when they were close to one another.
“Maybe you’re right,” Finn agreed.
“Now’s the time.” Dante snorted. “Been a hell of a long time since I got to tear into some deserving son-of-a-bitch.”
Anders laughed. “Can’t wait to meet the pup.”
“I’m sorry,” Finn’s voice was thick.
The line fell silent.
“See you soon,” Dante said.
“Yep,” Anders sounded off.
“Be careful,” Hollis added.
And the line went dead. Finn sat there with his eyes closed, feeling exhausted, long after they were done. When he checked the clock next it was after midnight. He stood, stretching, and glanced out the window at the illuminated San Antonio skyline. The moon was covered with thin gray clouds, casting long shadows across the mish-mash of concrete and glass, parking lots and highways. He checked his phone. Both his head of security and his publicist had kept up a steady stream of emails and texts. Word of Cara’s death was now public, as well as the possible birth of a child. He’d decided the best course of action was to make a statement before anyone else could beat him to the punch. He hoped, by making it public, he might offer Oscar some sort of protection.
In the ten years since they’d become infected, Finn and his pack had learned little about their adversaries. The Others. Hell, they hadn’t known other werewolves existed until the Others pack jumped Mal. After that, they’d done everything they could to learn about them, with little luck. One thing they knew, the Others viewed Finn as a threat. But something seemed to keep them at bay. He’d seen them, knew they followed him from time to time, almost as if they were studying him. Not so for Mal. Three of them had come at Mal. If Finn hadn’t been there… Well, Mal had barely survived the attack. Finn didn’t think they knew about Anders, Hollis, or Dante. At least, they’d never been targeted or threatened. But with the Others, so much was unknown—including their motivation.
Bottom line, he needed to be prepared for the backlash that might follow.
The polite thing to do was call his parents and give them some advance notice. The phone went straight to voicemail.
“Mom, Dad, you have a grandson. He’s home with me now. Just wanted you to know, since it’ll be all over tomorrow’s papers.” He hung up, slid his phone into his pocket, and headed out of his office.
He was starving.
But the blended scents of Jessa and Oscar greeted him halfway to the kitchen. And finding Jessa in a tight gray T-shirt and plaid boxer shorts stirred a completely different sort of hunger. The entire day, the image of her pink bra and, the soft skin of her chest, had taunted him. He’d wanted to touch her. It had been hell not to.
And now? Jessa out of her business attire was even more beguiling that the well put-together young woman he’d come to expect. Her long blond hair fell to the middle of her back, curling softly. Soft, supple skin. Long legs, toned and lean. Willowy arms that cradled Oscar close while she swayed in time to the big-band music playing softly over the radio.
The wolf was riveted, focusing entirely on Jessa and Oscar. Proudly. Possessively. Finn felt it, too. And her scent, the swell of her breasts through her thin shirt, the curve of her ass, the purple polish on her bare toes… He’d never been so driven to claim a woman. It was primal, territorial. It had to be the wolf, not him. Or was it?
Oscar’s soft whimper distracted him.
“Your snack is almost ready, Oscar,” she said, speaking softly.
Her voice, soothing, entreating, made him calm. While he hoped his response to Jessa was based on her caring for his son, it was no less alarming. He didn’t just want to take her to bed, he wanted to be with her. Better to take a long cold shower and put some space, and sanity, between them. Instead, he strode into the kitchen.
“A snack sounds good to me, too.”
“Mr. Dean.” She jumped. “I thought you’d gone out.”
“Where would I go?” He glanced at her, curious to hear her answer.
She shrugged. “Wherever single people go?”
He grinned. “You’re single, aren’t you, Miss Talbot? Surely you have some ideas.” But he couldn’t imagine her frequenting the clubs he did. Or trawling for one-night hook-ups at a bar, for that matter.
She shook her head. “I don’t have time to date, Mr. Dean.”
Which was a huge relief. He frowned, wishing he had a better rein on his emotions. “I was here. Working,” he said, opening the refrigerator. “What did Augustina make this evening?”
“Oh, coq au vin. It was incredible,” she said. “She’s an amazing cook.”
He put the plate in the microwave and turned it on. “But not much of a conversationalist.” He glanced at Jessa.
She wrinkled her nose. “Not exactly.”
He laughed. “That’s okay. I don’t pay her for the conversation.” The microwave beeped.
Oscar squeaked then.
Finn glanced at her before carrying his plate to the table.
She prepared a bottle, shaking it, while still bouncing Oscar, on her way to the table. She sat, crossing her leg and propping Oscar on her lap. “Thomas has the crib set up but I’ve put Oscar in the portable bed in my room for the first few nights. Just so he doesn’t feel alone—I hope that’s okay?” She waited for his nod before continuing. She smiled at Oscar then said, “We received an email confirmation from the nanny agency. They’ll begin working on a list of candidates and send files over in the next few weeks. So, I’ll be able to start the weeding process quickly and be out of your hair.”
His relief vanished, quickly replaced by something close to panic. Would she find someone who smiled at Oscar the way she did? Or hum to him? Or cradle him close, as if he were precious, not unwanted or…damaged? “You’re very good at…that,” he said between bites.
“You met one of the reasons why today,” she replied. “Shelby, my sister, and Harry, Landon, and Nate. Each of them gave me a sort of hands-on internship.” She had the most beautiful smile, the most brilliant eyes.
“What made you want to work for Dean?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. “Well, it’s a noble company, doing good in a world that needs it.” She paused. “But, honestly, there was definitely a financial component. Your company has a progressive advancement track, excellent insurance, some tuition perks, regular bonuses… All things a woman like me needs to take care of four siblings. They’re smart, involved, but there’s no guarantee they’ll get scholarships or financial aid.”
“So you gave up your dreams to take care of your family?” he asked, curious.
“I’d like to think I can do both. I blame you for that.” She said, burping Oscar with ease.
“Me?” he asked, finishing his dinner and sitting back in his chair.
She nodded, shifting Oscar and getting him settled with his bottle before answering him. “I went to a seminar you gave at my campus. It was all about dreaming big and letting nothing stand in your way. Listening to you, I knew my dreams would never give my siblings their dreams. I’m their sister, but in a lot of ways I’m also their mother. Seeing them succeed is important.”
“Do they know?” he asked.
“Know what?” she asked, her large green eyes finding his.
“Do they know you gave everything up for them?”
She frowned. “I didn’t. Working for Dean Industries isn’t a sacrifice. I feel lucky to be working for your company. And, no, I’m not just saying that because you are Mr. Dean. Is this where I thought I’d be now? No. But I didn’t give everything up. And I wouldn’t want them to think I had.” She paused, smiling down at Oscar. “Besides, you—Oscar, needs me.”
She’d been right the first time. “Where did you see yourself at this point in your life?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t really know. And it doesn’t matter. I’m learning so much, and, I hope, I’m doing a good job where I am.”
“I’ve heard as much,” he agreed.
Her brows went up at the same time Oscar finished his bottle. She set it on the table and shifted him to her shoulder. Finn watched every move. She was so careful, so gentle, he could almost feel the tenderness in her touch. He wanted to feel it.
Oscar burped, making her smile.
“It’s a little ridiculous how rewarding that sound is,” she said, still smiling, her green gaze locked with his.
He didn’t have much to say to that. Here he was, sitting in his kitchen, well past midnight, enjoying a conversation. It had been a long time since he’d spent time with a woman outside of a bed. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a woman’s company when some sort of foreplay wasn’t involved.
He imagined her hair spread across her pillows and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. Would she feel as soft as she looked? Would she smile and sigh beneath him? Or would she be passionate and vocal? The wolf wanted to know—every instinct demanded he find out. He focused entirely on her, quieting his mind until he was in tune with her.
The flushing of her cheeks.
The pump of her heart accelerating.
The slight shudder of her breath.
The nervous dart of her tongue along her lower lip.
She swallowed.
Did she feel this?
She blinked, severing the connection between them.
“He’ll be down for a few hours now, so I suppose I’ll try to get some sleep.” She stood. “Is there anything else you need me to do this evening, Mr. Dean?”
He swallowed back the laundry list of inappropriate things that sprang to mind. “No, Miss Talbot. Thank you,” he ground out the last words. But there was something. “And you can call me Finn.”
She paused, hesitant. “Good night, Finn.”
His hand clenched around his fork, bending the metal into a knot. He cleared his throat. “Sweet dreams, Jessa.”
She carried Oscar from the room, her scent lingering in the air long after her bedroom door closed behind her.
…
Jessa glanced at the five dossiers she’d compiled, waiting for Mr. Dean’s approval. She wasn’t 100 percent pleased with any of the candidates, but she supposed there never would be someone truly up for caring for Oscar. In the two weeks she’d spent with him, she’d accepted the fact that he was the sweetest-tempered baby in existence. He fussed only when he was hungry, tired, or needed changing. Because of that, she’d been able to sleep well and accomplish the few tasks that needed to be done. Her brothers had stopped by to visit a few times, probably to keep her from discovering the state of the house, and they’d had homework video chats when needed. Since Finn had expressed concern over taking Oscar too far from him, she’d rarely left his apartment. She wasn’t used to having so much free time, but Augustina refused to let her help with household chores.
Oscar was too little to put in a jogging stroller, but she’d taken him for a couple of brisk walks in the morning for a change of scenery. Finn insisted she have a bodyguard, but Greg, the man assigned to her, kept his distance, and after a while, she would forget he was there. Instead, she enjoyed the new city paths and parks, things Oscar would enjoy when he was older. On mornings that were too cold to venture out, she’d do yoga when Mr. Dean left for work.
Mr. Dean. Finn. She’d spent far too much of her free time thinking about her mesmerizing employer.
Worse, he’d taken over her dreams, consuming her with his hands and mouth in a way that made her weak. There was something predatory about him. Something that made her stomach clench and her long-neglected body beg for attention.
In her twenty-eight years, her experience with men was limited. But never, ever, had she felt so…conscious of a man. As soon as he walked through the door, she was hyperaware of him.
To him, she was a temporary installation, nothing more. After that first night, he’d remained reserved and distant. He came home late and disappeared into his office, reappearing long enough to eat and exchange pleasantries.
Because I’m an employee.
Finnegan Dean would never think of her as anything beyond that. She needed to be careful. Falling for her boss would be a stupid mistake—one she couldn’t afford to make, on so many levels. If her dreams weren’t so real, she’d remember that. But they were, waking her up in a tangle of sheets and sweat, alone and aching, still with the whisper of his fingers on her skin.
She glanced at the clock. “I’m late,” she murmured. But she couldn’t exactly show up for a meeting covered in spit-up and smelling like sour formula. She shrugged out of the shirt and hurried into the bathroom, rinsing the formula from the fabric. She worked quickly, running the stain under water and lathering it with soap. She rinsed the soap and hung it over the shower rail before heading into her room. Only to find Finn staring into the crib at his sleeping son.
“Oh, Mr. Dean.” She crossed her arms over her bra.
He looked up, his eyes widening. “You were late—”
“I was covered in spit-up,” she returned, frozen in place.
His gaze swept up the curve of her arm, her shoulder, her neck, making her skin warm. She wasn’t prepared for the way his jaw clenched. Or the “My apologies,” he mumbled. When his gaze burned into hers, there was no air in her lungs. He stared at her, his hand gripping the railing of the crib, until she wasn’t sure she’d stay upright. “I’ll wait in my office,” his growl was all the more startling, echoing down the hall as he left the room.
She slumped into the wall, sucking in air, staring at the open door. What was that? Was he angry? His time was precious, but surely he’d understand why she was late.
But standing there worrying over his reaction would only make her later.
She closed the door and changed quickly, slipping into a pink blouse and tucking it into the waist of her gray slacks. With a quick glance at a sleeping Oscar, she picked up the dossiers and the baby monitor and headed to his office. Analyzing his reaction was a bad idea. So was thinking about the way his gaze heated the skin of her neck and shoulder. To get worked up over a simple look was stupid. But it had been a long time since she’d been on the receiving end of such obvious masculine appreciation. He saw her—and possibly liked it.
Or, more likely, she was seeing what she wanted to see. As if, Jessa. Someone like Finnegan Dean would never be interested in her.
She shook off her thoughts as she knocked on his office door.
“Come in,” he called.
She crossed the room and sat in the chair opposite his desk, immediately jumping into business. “These are the five candidates I’ve determined best meet the criteria you provided.”
“I apologize for intruding, Jessa.” He paused. “I’ll knock from now on. It’s your room.”
She nodded, avoiding his gaze. Sweeping the incident aside was the best idea. She could pretend he hadn’t caught her in her plain white bra. Not that wearing something more feminine or sexy would have made it better. She swallowed, sliding the packets across his desk. “Here are the files. I thought you might review them and give me your thoughts. That way I can begin interviewing next Friday.”
“Next Friday?” He seemed surprised.
“You gave me a deadline,” she reminded him. “I meet my deadlines.”
He sat back in his chair, ran a hand over his face, and sighed. “It will wait until after we get back.”
She let out her breath, slowly. “Get back?”
“I need to make a trip, four or five days. You and Oscar are coming with me.” He glanced at her, then back at the files she’d placed on his desk. “I know it’s short notice, but it’s necessary.”
She processed this. “I need to check in on Nate first. He struggles with his math work. Can Oscar and I—”
“Yes, go,” his answer was short.
It would do her a world of good. Being so wrapped up in Oscar and Finnegan Dean was likely playing a part in her nocturnal fantasies. She needed fresh air, familiar faces, and adult conversation that wasn’t centered around Oscar—as precious as he was. At the moment, the only things she had to do were care for Oscar and hunt for the perfect nanny. Which brought her back to the matter at hand. “Would you prefer to review these later?” she asked.
“I’ve cleared my schedule for the day, specifically for this purpose. Can you summarize their strengths and weaknesses?”
She nodded, having anticipated as much. “My pleasure.”
“And the trip?” he asked. “Will it interfere with any plans?”
As long as it wasn’t too far away. Her brothers seemed to be doing fine without her, but she still worried over them—something that irritated her brothers, especially Harry. She sighed. Maybe a trip is a good idea. “No. A trip might be nice.”
His smile was breathtaking.
She sat, stunned. It was like she’d made his day, when it was the other way around. Her heart was thumping like mad, the strangest, warmest pull flooding her insides.
“So, the candidates,” she said, clearing her throat.
He came around his desk and sat in the chair beside her, leaning close to read over her shoulder as she pointed out those things that had caught her attention. She tried not to get distracted by the tantalizing scent of his spicy aftershave or the way his shirt hugged the well-muscled contours of his upper arm. There was too much riding on this position. She could not afford to let him get to her.
She worked her way through the first three candidates before Oscar’s high-pitched cry sounded through the baby monitor. She smiled, checking her watch, and stood. “Would you mind giving me fifteen minutes? I’ll get him situated and return?” She offered him the dossier they were reviewing.
“I’ll read over these until you get back.” He glanced at the monitor.
She nodded and headed into her room. Oscar was in a full fit of temper, his little face red and his fists tight and flailing.
“What’s the matter, Oscar? Are you starving, little man?” She cooed, picking him up and patting him. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then we’ll find you something to ease that ache in your little tummy, okay? I was with your daddy. He’s worrying over you, wanting to find the best possible nanny.”
Oscar had calmed a little, but started wailing when she changed his diaper.
“I know, sweetie, I’m sorry,” she continued. “As soon as you have a dry diaper, everything will be better. I promise, okay? Be patient.” She disposed of the dirty diaper and scooped him. “Now, let’s go.”
She worked quietly in the kitchen, humming away. When Oscar had his bottle, she headed back to Mr. Dean’s office. But instead of finding him pouring over the dossiers she’d made, she found him on the phone.
“You’re sure?” He ran a hand through his thick black hair, his barely suppressed anger visible. “I can protect them.”
She hesitated, a twinge of anxiety nagging the base of her spine. Finn’s posture was ramrod stiff, his voice hard and edged with something almost…menacing. Maybe now wasn’t the time to invade his office.
“I know this is bad,” he muttered. “We’ll leave as soon as I can. It’s safer there.”
Oscar chose that moment to burp, drawing Mr. Dean’s attention. His expression shifted, from anger to concern. But his posture seemed to stiffen further, so rigid he seemed braced for something. Something scared Finnegan Dean? Her anxiety doubled.
He hung up, sliding his phone back into his pocket.
“I can come back,” she offered.
“No,” he said. “I should have let that go to voicemail.” He shook his head, returning to his seat and flipping through the dossier with quick, tight motions.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, shifting Oscar from one arm to the other.
He glanced at her, defensive. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
She nodded.
“He likes the sound of your voice,” he said.
“What?” she asked, startled.
“I heard you on the monitor. He responds to you.”
She shook her head, far too pleased by his words. “He’s too little to know. But hearing me lets him know he’s not alone.”
“Maybe.” He held up the fourth dossier. “What about Mrs. Flores?”
She sat at his side, ready to work. He needed to make this decision so she could get back to her regular life. A life that was full of practicalities and moved too quickly to indulge in fantasies about her boss. And, to safeguard her heart. She was getting far too attached to Oscar.
They spent another hour in discussion, narrowing the field to three candidates. And through it all, she kept Oscar in the crook of her arm. When she looked down, she saw him staring around, alert and awake.
“Well, hello, Oscar,” she said, holding him close. “How are you?” she cooed. “Did you want to see your daddy?”
She didn’t hold the baby out. Finn still wasn’t ready for that—he’d made that clear. But she hoped he might take some interest in his infant son. Finding Oscar a nanny was a kind of interest, yes, but it wasn’t the same thing as bonding with the boy, or falling in love with his watchful gaze and gurgling noises.
She smiled at Oscar. “Do you approve of our choices?” she asked, glancing at Mr. Dean.
He was watching Oscar, and he looked—wary. “Is he doing well?”
She nodded. “He’s a champ. I admit my experience is limited to my siblings, but I’d say Oscar is one of the easiest babies ever.”
Mr. Dean stood, moving behind his desk to sit. “That’s good. Hopefully he won’t drive away as many nannies as his uncle and I did.”
She grinned. “Were you wild children?”
He nodded, arching a brow. “That’s putting it mildly.”
She sighed, knowing there was no reason for her to linger. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Dean?”
He looked at her, his smile melting her from the inside out. “I thought we’d progressed to Finn, Jessa.”
She stood, cradling Oscar. Why did saying his name sound so intimate? “Finn.” She paused. “Is there anything else?”
He sat back in his chair. “What do you think of the new tagline?”
His abrupt change of topic made her pause. Tagline? For the new sport hybrids? It had to be. That was the focus of the marketing department right now—chasing down the elusive demographic of drivers wanting fast cars that wouldn’t leave a big carbon footprint. Not an easy task. “You mean: Dean Automotive, redefining smart and sexy?” she asked. “I happen to think it’s quite good.” And her idea.
“Because it’s a good tagline? Or because it’s yours?” he asked, steepling his fingers in front of him.
She hesitated, knowing this was an opportunity to remind him that her skill set extended beyond the domestic domain. “I take credit for it. Proudly. It’s exactly the tone we want to set for this new line. Isn’t it? Perhaps I am biased… But the test group seemed to respond favorably as well.”
“I know, I’ve seen the numbers,” he agreed, those unfathomable eyes riveted upon her.
She smiled.
“It’s good work,” he said.
“Thank you, sir.” If she kept smiling like this, she was going to burst. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
He nodded, his gaze fixed on his computer screen as she pulled the door shut behind her.
A good day, overall. Yes, Harry was going to blow a gasket when she told him she was leaving town. Each day his phone calls were becoming more frequent, and longer. He was managing, but only just. And she understood. He had a life, exams, and responsibilities of his own. The house, their brothers, had always been her responsibility.
And yet, even he’d been blown away by Finn’s generous offer. She didn’t keep their financial situation from them—they all knew every cent counted. They’d promised to step up, to make this work, and come out ahead for a change.
Besides she couldn’t leave Oscar—or Finn. Whatever was happening, Finn’s tension was palpable.
I can protect them. Finn’s words.
She shivered, holding Oscar closer and sitting in the new rocking chair. Who needed protecting? And from what?
Oscar lay on her lap, his little eyes red-rimmed and his mouth stretching wide in a yawn. She smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his head, and smoothed the copper curl on the top of his head. “Your daddy loves you, Oscar, he just doesn’t know how to show it yet.” She paused, stroking the baby’s soft cheek. “We need to show him you’re not something to be afraid of. You’re something to love.”
She sang her brother’s favorite lullaby, rocking Oscar gently until he was sound asleep. Only then did the anxiety return. As irrational as it was, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Finn’s phone call had something to do with Oscar.