Page 135 of Fierce-Baker

She fed her son, ate beside him, watched as he smeared sauce across his cheeks and nose, giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world. She snapped a few pictures, smiling despite herself, then opened her messages to send one to Baker.

And stopped.

She couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t pull him any deeper into her mess.

Because it was only going to get worse. She felt that in her bones.

But could she walk away?

She didn’t know that either.

A tear slipped free before she could stop it.

“Why you crying?” Micah asked.

His words were clearer every day, his little voice stronger and more confident. Everything about him was a wonder, and it broke her heart that she might have to share that now.

Sharehim.

And with a man who hadn’t even asked his son’s name.

Who didn’t know his favorite food or toy.

What time he went to bed.

Nothing.

She brushed her thumb across Micah’s cheek, wiping away sauce, forcing a grin he didn’t need to question.

“I’m okay, baby,” she whispered.

But nothing about this felt okay at all.

40

COMPARING IT TO US

“Hey,” Baker said the next night.

It was past seven. Micah was already in bed. And Tasha had asked him to come over. Not earlier, not when the little boy would race toward him with that crooked grin, but now, when the house was quieter.

Almost too quiet.

He hadn’t seen Micah since Sunday. Hadn’t scooped him up or chased him around the patio. Hadn’t kept him busy while Tasha handled the million invisible things motherhood demanded of her.

He missed it more than he wanted to admit.

Missed the way Micah said his name—Bakeeeerrrr—dragging it out like it was the punch line to a joke only he understood. Missed the giggle that followed, the proud flash of that small, toothy grin like he’d invented happiness himself.

Standing there now, he realized how quickly the kid had carved out space in his life. How easily and how permanent it felt.

And that, more than anything else, caught him off guard.

It wasn’t a fight for the woman he loved. It was a fight for the child he was coming to consider his.

“Come in,” she said, holding the door wide. No welcoming hug. No kiss on the cheek. Just sadness in her voice, chased by more in her eyes.

“What’s going on? Did you set up a time for Shane to meet Micah yet?”