Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Reluctantly, he pushed himself up to retrieve the bottle from earlier, trying to move past disappointment over the missed food to do what had to be done. “I’ll wash this and make her formula.”
“And then I’ll feed her while you eat. We can work in shifts.” Another way too easy smile from Brandt, who had no idea how hard this was, day in and day out.
But Shane also wasn’t going to turn down help while he had it. “Appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Brandt settled back down at the table with the baby and took the bottle from Shane, easy as if they’d been doing this for weeks. “Am I doing this right?”
“Angle your arm up a little more.” Shane demonstrated with his own arm. “If she’s more upright, less gets puked up later.”
“Got it. Now eat.”
“Trying. This is really good.” Shane tucked into the beans while Brandt adjusted the baby and the bottle, finding a position that worked for him. He was more of a natural than Shane, that was for sure, as Shane had ended wearing most of the formula the first time he’d tried. “And why the sudden helpfulness? Thought you were pretty clear on not getting involved before I fell asleep.”
“Yeah. Well...” Brandt drew the word out. “I did some thinking. And research. I’m on the birth certificate, and while that shouldn’t have happened without a paternity form, a court might have something to say about my name being there, especially if the kid goes into custody. It’s going to take a paternity test and a court order to get me removed from the birth certificate, assuming the test is negative.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then it’s not, and I deal. No kid of mine is going into foster care if I can help it. I grew up in the system. Aged out. There are some good people in child protective services. I even know a few. But it’s not the life I’d want for a kid.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Eh. It was a long time ago.” Brandt tried to wave away Shane’s concerns and ended up with an indignant squawk from Jewel.
“Better burp her now if you don’t want a shirt full of formula,” Shane warned, getting up from the table to retrieve the light blanket he’d been using for his shoulder.
“Look at my neck.” Brandt tilted his head as Shane handed over the blanket.
“Pardon?” Shane couldn’t see any baby spit up from here, but he wasn’t sure he trusted himself to touch the other guy as he still remembered how electric Brandt’s touch had been checking the parachute rigging that day.
“I want to show you something and can’t with my hands full. Move my hair.”
“Okay.” This was beyond surreal. Food. Help. And now an invitation to touch the guy. Brandt’s hair was softer than it looked, like corn silk, and try as he did to not let his fingers linger, his body still took notice of the warmth of his smooth skin. He almost forgot he was supposed to be looking for—
“See it?” Brandt asked right as Shane hissed in a breath. Shane had a large birthmark shaped like an oversized, perky comma. Little darker and bigger, but Shane had seen that mark before.
“Yeah. Looks like the one on the baby. Wow.” Shane sank back into his chair.
“Okay. Not just me that sees the resemblance.” Brandt moved Jewel around, awkwardly patting her to burp her.
Shane was still too stunned at the birthmark to offer baby advice, but he managed a laugh when the baby made one of her trucker burps.
“Damn, lady. That’s loud.” Brandt laughed too. “And that’s good I guess that you see the birthmark similarity. Means I’m not losing my mind.”
“No. It’s definitely weird coincidence. That why you want the paternity test now?”
“Yeah. I looked up hereditary birthmarks. And apparently they are a thing. Rare, but common enough that I’m not gonna rest easy till we know for sure. I’ll go to my grave swearing there was a condom and that it was a one-time thing, but I can’t argue with my eyes here.”
“Speaking of eyes, did you notice the baby’s?”
“Huh.” Brandt peered down at Jewel. “Sorta gold-green-brown?”
“You look in a mirror lately?” Shane was not going to confess to half-written lyrics waxing poetic about moss-colored eyes and clear blue skies. “I might be remembering high school biology class wrong as to which colors are dominant, but that’s closer to your shade than blue like Shelby and me.”
“Okay. Wow.” Brandt readjusted the baby, offering her the bottle again. “She’s bald though.”
“Not sure there are many babies with a full head of shaggy blond hair.” Shane laughed before eating more dinner. “Were you a bald baby? Got a picture?”
Brandt shook his head. “Not many. Foster care, remember? I’ve got a little book that I might show you later, but most of the pictures are school age.”