I point a shaky finger back toward my house. “Baby. Front porch.”
Pepper’s face morphs into confusion and someone behind her says, “Hey, Pepp…is that the hot hockey player that lives next door? Have him come in and play some Scrabble with us.”
She ignores the person as do I. Instead, I merely lunge at her to grab her hand and I’m pulling her physically through her doorway. I turn and run down the porch, and Pepper follows me without question or complaint.
I drag her right up onto the porch where my hand is shaking even more violently as I point down at the baby wrapped in the blanket. It’s still whimpering softly.
“Oh my God,” Pepper exclaims as she jerks her hand out of mine and stoops to pick up the baby. She peels the blanket back further to stare at the little creature. She finds its hand and pushes her finger into its and I’m amazed as the baby grasps on tightly.
Her head turns to me. “You just found this on your porch?”
I can’t even speak so I just nod effusively.
“Where did it come from?”
I shake my head and shrug.
Pepper takes a step back and looks down at where the baby was lying. We both see a note there which must have been underneath the bundle.
I pick it up. My hands are still shaking as I open it, and immediately realize it’s too dark to see. I walk woodenly down my porch steps, the feeling of dread that’s lodged deep in the pit of my stomach making me want to puke.
Moving to the front of my Tahoe where the headlights sufficiently illuminate the area, I open the note again. I’m vaguely aware that Pepper’s at my side, leaning in to read alongside me.
Legend,
I hate to spring this on you, but I find myself unable to care for our baby. She’s fourteen days old and I haven’t named her yet. I know this is coming as a surprise, but you’re in a better position to care for her than I am.
Lida“You had a baby?” Pepper asks softly.
“No,” I mutter. “I mean…if this is true, yes. But I had no clue. I saw this woman briefly while I was with the Spartans down in Florida. I had no idea she was pregnant.”
“Wow,” Pepper murmurs as I twist my neck to look at her. Her eyes are soft and wondrous. “Talk about a surprise, huh?”
My gaze cuts to what I now know is a little baby girl with no name cradled so naturally in Pepper’s arms. “Yeah…it’s a surprise, all right.”Chapter 2LegendThis can’t be fucking happening.
I glance over to the ambulance where a paramedic is checking the baby out. She’s crying and it’s freaking me out. I have no clue if this baby is mine as Lida claims in the letter, and it doesn’t matter. That tiny little thing was sitting alone and defenseless on my porch, probably cold and hungry and who knows what else. Christ, there are fucking coyotes around here. They could have dragged her off to—
Nope. Can’t think about that.
If Lida were to walk up my driveway right now, I’m pretty sure I’d strangle the life out of her.
My eyes slide over to Pepper, standing just outside the door of the ambulance and observing the scene. Her Scrabble party broke up quickly when the ambulance arrived.
She worries at her lip, biting into it with her teeth and there’s a deep frown on her face. Thank fuck she was at home because I don’t even know how to hold a baby. I never even thought to pick it up. I just ran for Pepper.
“Mr. Bay,” the police officer says to get my attention, and I turn to face him. “About what time did you arrive home tonight?”
The cop—Officer Brandis—is one of two that arrived after I called 9-1-1. He’s portly, with the buttons of his uniform stretching tight over his belly. I have to wonder how many babies-abandoned-on-doorstep calls he responds to in a given year.
Not many I bet.
“Around 8:45 P.M.,” I tell him with another brief glance at the ambulance. The baby is still crying and it’s fraying my nerves.
“And how long had you been gone from your home?”
My mind races and it takes me a moment to remember that would have been about three hours ago when I went to the arena to workout with Dax.
Jesus…that baby could have been laying there for three fucking hours.
“And you had no prior knowledge that this baby is yours?” he inquires, jotting notes on a pad.
“No,” I reply in what I hope is a calm voice, but I want to scream at him that of course I had no fucking clue.
“Do you have contact information for Miss Martin?”
“I have her phone number and address,” I tell him brusquely, which I’d already given him. “When is the social worker going to get here?”