Page 31 of Singled Out

Was that crying?

I opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hall.

It was faint, but I was pretty sure that had to be Danny. My heart lurched in a panic.

I didn’t know the first thing about babies or toddlers or kids of any age. The cry didn’t have a screaming-bloody-murder tone to it, so I hurried back down the hall, through the guest room, and out the door. Max was still where I’d left him, sitting in the lake, his back to me.

“Max,” I said in a whisper-yell as I went down the hill.

He turned when he heard me.

I reached the sand and said, “I think Danny’s crying.”

He was up in half a heartbeat, rushing to the walkway to a white box I hadn’t noticed before.

“Damn battery’s dead,” he said, taking off for the house in a jog.

I followed him to the family room door and up to the main level.

“Dadaaaa.” The cry came from the other side of the kitchen. My heart cracked a little at the sound of fear and need in it.

Max rushed into Danny’s room. “Daddy’s here, little man. It’s okay.”

By the light of a night-light, I saw Daniel Dawson up close for the first time. He was standing in his crib, gripping the side of it with one hand, and holding out his other for his beloved daddy. He had dark-blond, shaggy hair hanging over his forehead. His lips quivered as his eyes locked on Max.

“Hey, Danny boy,” Max said in a low, soothing voice. “Come here. What’s going on, bud?” He picked up the boy. “Ah.” He lowered Danny back to stand in the crib but didn’t let go of him. “You need a diaper change, huh?”

I stood a few feet back, entranced, as Danny took in a big, shuddering breath. His little fist clung to Max’s arm as if he knew everything would be okay as long as his daddy was there.

My heart did a full-on flip.

Witnessing that micromoment, that instant of innate, pure trust between a boy and his father… That packed a punch. I’d thought kissing Max was going to mess me up for a good long while, but this was only going to make it harder to keep the man out of my mind.

“Let’s get you changed,” Max said in that mesmerizing dad voice. “Harper, could you switch on that lamp?”

I looked where he pointed and saw a lamp on a chest of drawers. I turned it on and noticed it had a rocket at the base and the shade was covered in stars. There were stars painted on the walls too and planets and moons. We were in outer space.

When I turned back to Max, he had Danny lying in the crib and was already stripping him down to change the diaper, which I could now smell. I didn’t blame the boy for screaming about that.

I kept my distance but didn’t leave, just watched Max, listened to the way he kept up a mostly one-sided conversation with his son.

“Poop happens, doesn’t it, little man? Not usually in the middle of the night for you though. Was this from the cookies Aunt Dakota gave you? I bet it was.”

Danny had a stuffed yellow dog in his hand, one of the ears in his mouth. A quiet, happy laugh came out, muffled by the dog.

“Your auntie’s breaking all the rules, isn’t she?” Max continued, his hands never slowing down with the smelly clean-up and then the new diaper.

When he was done, I was still standing there watching.

“I need to get some dry clothes on. Then we’ll rock for a while, okay?” he said to his son.

“Dada.” Danny pulled himself up to a stand again, then grabbed Max’s forearm.

“I’ll be right back. I bet Harper will keep you company for a minute.” He pulled Daniel out of the crib, into his arms for a hug, then asked me, “Would you mind?”

“No,” I said automatically, trying not to let my awkwardness with kids show. “What do I do?”

He hesitated, as if reconsidering. “Will you let Harper hold you?”