I close my eyes and transfer my warmth into his little body, pulling the blanket over him tighter. A sound from the corner startles me, and Garrett slowly emerges from the shadows.

“Oh my God,” he says softly and walks toward me, his head hung low.

I haven’t seen much of him over the past four weeks. After I attempted to give him an introductory course in caring for a drug-addicted baby, he’s barely been here. He wasn’t kidding when he said he had no intentions of taking care of his son. He hired me to do a job and I’m doing it, kick-ass I might add. Aunt Peggy claims to not know where he’s been hiding out, and I’m sure it’s been in a fancy hotel with some groupie.

“Get out,” I whisper, trying not to disturb the rhythm I’ve created for Kai.

“Is he okay?” he asks, and I can’t believe there’s actual concern in his voice.

“He is for now, but he’ll start screaming if you stay in here. Please leave.”

He ignores my request and sinks onto the day-bed across from Kai’s crib. That bed is meant for me, but I haven’t slept in it yet. This chair is the only bed I’ve known since I moved in, and Kai has yet to see the inside of that crib.

Garrett’s eyes focus on the lump of baby under the blanket. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” he asks. He doesn’t sound all pervy, and for the first time I notice he’s not trying to undress me with his eyes.

“Body warmth. It’s called the Kangaroo Method. Skin-on-skin contact helps soothe him,” I whisper. Kai stiffens, and I immediately hum into his ear. Once he’s relaxed again, Garrett asks another question.

“Why the humming? It doesn’t sound like music. It’s like a pattern?”

“It causes deep reverberations in my chest and it calms him down.”

He looks amused. “Kind of like when my mother says she ran the vacuum cleaner when I cried as a baby?”

I surprise myself with a smile and nod. “Yes.”

“Oh,” he says and continues to stare at his son. He’s fixated on the thick tuft of black hair that sticks straight out in all directions. Most days, Kai looks like a mad scientist.

“Why is he in so much pain?” he asks softly. His eyes are heavy and sad.

I’m taken a little off-guard by his questions. And I’m stunned by his sudden concern for his son. He’s never shown any interest in Kai, and it surprises me that he’s asking these relevant questions. I’m not sure he’ll be happy with the answers, but I give him the most honest responses.

“When he was in his mother’s body, drugs passed into his system. He was exposed to them for a long time when she was using during her pregnancy. He needed those drugs when he was born, but they weren’t there anymore. He’s withdrawing, just like an adult addict would do.”

He nods in understanding and leans back further on the bed.

I rock Kai silently and treasure the peace that I feel throughout his body. He’s reacting differently today. Every time he hears Garrett’s voice, he sinks further into my chest. How can he know who Garrett is?

Garrett hasn’t been this close to his son since the first day Kai came home. Maybe it’s the tone of his voice that’s soothing? Or the tenor?

“He’s reacting to your voice,” I say and lift the blanket slightly so he can see how relaxed Kai is against my chest. His tiny hands fall at my sides and his cheek is glued to my skin just above my heart. Garrett eyes his son and raises his eyebrow.

“You know you’re not wearing a shirt, right?” he says, and I feel warmth spread through my entire body. I’m blushing everywhere. My cheeks flush. I lower the blanket over Kai so as not to wake him, at the same time covering myself. Thank God I’m wearing my sports bra.

I’m mortified.

“Please leave,” I say, completely embarrassed.

What the hell was I thinking?

Garrett smiles and pulls a pillow out from behind him. He lies down on his side, tucking his hands underneath. The reflection from the stars on the ceiling catches his eyes just right. They’re dark and soft and, for once, not angry or aloof. And for first the first time, I can’t help but notice how strikingly handsome he is. His eyes are framed by the longest, thickest lashes I’ve ever seen on a man. His face is perfect and smooth, like he just shaved five minutes ago. His lips part slightly, and I suddenly realize he’s caught me staring.

I blush again and look away from him and focus on the mobile hanging above the crib. Soft instruments dangle above the bedding. Aunt Peggy insisted on a musical theme for Kai’s bedroom, for obvious reasons.

Garrett doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave.

“How long will he be like this?” His interest appears genuine, and I want to help him understand Kai’s health situation as best as I can. I guess now is as good a time as any. Tomorrow, he may go back to ignoring the fact that his son is now living under his roof.

I sigh heavily, knowing the reality I’m about to share is likely going to send Garrett running. Again. “It could be up to six months or more. I’ve seen babies get better sooner with early intervention.”

“Like what you’ve been doing with Kai?” he asks.

“Yes.”

His face looks drawn and worried. I realize that I may be scaring him with some of the worst-case-scenario stuff, and I try to shift the vibe in the room.

“With this type of care and comfort, I’ve seen symptoms gradually decline over a shorter time period.” Best case scenario.

“So you’re doing the right thing for him?”

“Absolutely,” I say confidently.

“What do you think he’s going to be like?”

“What do you mean?”

“When he’s older? Will he need special care? Or special schools?”

“Every baby with NAS is different. Some have a really rough start and gradually get better and can function normally throughout their lives. Others need constant care and therapy. Some are in between. There’s really no clear outcome.” It’s hard to describe the spectrum of problems that an NAS baby may have.

He looks even more drawn and says, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?”

“What you’re doing. I don’t think I have it in me to be like you.”

I’m surprised he’s even thinking about taking care of Kai. It tells me that he’s contemplating his options and that maybe, just maybe, he actually cares.

“Every living person has the capacity to provide care for another; some people just have to dig deeper than others to find it.”

“I respectfully disagree,” he says, shaking his head.

“Then we agree to disagree,” I reply.

“Why are you doing this for me?” he asks, quickly changing the subject.

“I’m doing this for Kai, not you. And because I love my aunt.” I state simply.

Raindrops begin to pelt the window behind me and then they pick up speed. Garrett takes a deep breath but doesn’t move. He’s looking between me and his son, and a strange expression comes over his face. It’s a weak smile that’s a mix of contentment and worry. I can tell the questions he asked me tonight have been bothering him, and he looks like he’s formulating the next one. Our silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but something hangs in the air between us that I can’t grasp.

“Your aunt is a wonderful woman. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” He stretches his legs out and tucks the pillow tighter under his cheek. “When I’ve been home, I can’t think of a time when she didn’t have my life in perfect order.”

“Even down to a sock drawer,” I say, and he immediately nods his head in agreement. I know my aunt so well. She’s a perfectionist and everything has its place.

“Seriously, who knew you could fold socks that way?” he says and for the first time, I feel at ease with him, even though I wanted to pummel him when we met. His arrogance and ignorance were dumbfounding.

I suddenly feel the need to tell him. “Why were you such a jerk?”