“You found a magic brand with a hundred percent guarantee?” Shane countered, staring him down. But his snark was undone by a huge yawn. “Look, if alcohol and Shelby were involved...”
“I wasn’t drunk.” Brandt frowned, hands clenching and unclenching. “I was scheduled to jump the next day with Dallas. I was mildly buzzed, if that. Which is how I know for sure that the kid’s not mine.”
His certainty hit Shane like a punch to the solar plexus, stealing all the wind and adrenaline he’d been running on the past few days. Whoosh. Gone. Leaving only utter exhaustion. If Brandt wasn’t the father, then that left him few options, each more horrible than the next.
“Fuck,” he whispered, drawing the word out. Then he remembered he was holding a baby and cursed again. “Shit. Sorry. I’m... I don’t know what to do.”
Hell, he could barely keep his eyes open and here was Brandt so sure he wasn’t involved, and it was all too much.
“Police?” Brandt asked. “Missing person report? If she’s in danger...”
“She’s not in danger. She’s with Macy. Likely in Canada by now. And like it or not, she’s still my sister. Police...they’ll want to charge her with something bad.”
“Yeah.” Brandt nodded and looked away.
“And they’re likely to haul in a social worker to take the baby. I’m a single guy with no address other than that beat-up RV. Like you said, no one’s trusting me to keep an infant. So, after I read the note, I figured the best plan was to track you down first.” His eyes started to burn, the audacity of his own stupidity having him closer to tears than he’d been in years. “See if... Hell. I don’t even know now what I was thinking. Not like you’re in a much better position than me to keep the kid from the system.”
“I get it.” Brandt surprised him by slipping from the chair, coming to crouch next to the couch and putting a hand on Shane’s knee. Damn. He must be in rough shape if Brandt thought he needed comforting. “Trust me, I know better than most how rough the system can be. I don’t want you to have to make that call either. I truly don’t.”
“Gonna have to.” Shane bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. No way was he crying in front of this man. But the second his eyes shut, exhaustion started winning again, and another yawn escaped his lungs. Didn’t help that the baby was snoozing away, bottle finished and her little warm body in his arms working as some sort of sleeping potion.
“Not right this minute.” Brandt’s voice was as soft and comforting as a towel right from the dryer. “You’re going to rest a few. I’m gonna sit right here and watch her while you sleep. Promise I’m not going anywhere. We’ll all hang out while you rest. I’ve been where you are, strung out on no sleep to the point nothing made a lick of sense.”
“Okay.” It spoke to how exhausted Shane was that he was agreeing to this plan. Not like he had much choice. He was in no shape to drive, that was for sure. Maybe when he woke up, some new solution would present itself, one where this wasn’t all on his shoulders. He knew better than to count on Brandt Wilder for help, but right then, he was all Shane had.
Chapter Three
Brandt knew exhaustion. He’d seen it enough in himself and his fellow smoke jumpers. He well knew that wall where a person simply had no more to give. No energy to even eat or hydrate. It was a special level of hell when sleep was hours away and putting one foot in front of the other was a herculean task. He’d heard from his friends with kids that parenthood could be like that too, taking everything one had to give and pushing the limits on how far someone could go without rest.
Shane was at the point now, eyes shut, skin even paler than usual, shoulders slumping, head falling forward as if it were too heavy for his neck. His grip on the baby hadn’t loosened, but Brandt wasn’t sure what would happen when sleep finally claimed the poor guy in earnest. Thinking fast, he lined up his arms with Shane.
“Let me take the baby. You don’t wanna drop her,” he whispered.
“Mmm. Okay.” Shane made a sleepy noise as he handed her over.
Miraculously, she didn’t wake up, didn’t even make one of those unhappy noises she seemed so good at. Sitting back on the rug, Brandt adjusted the tiny package in his arms. She was small and warm. Maybe ten pounds, less than a lot of Brandt’s power tools and definitely less than most of his smoke jumper gear. The weight was nothing at all, and yet, the baby also felt like the heaviest thing he’d ever held.