Page 24

By the time I leave the Sinclairs’ residence, I’m feeling calmer and less alone than I have since I fled Queensland.

“I’m sorry about all of that,” Nolan says as he backs out of his parents’ driveway. “My Mum and brother can be bulldozers at times.”

“I think they’re great,” I admit. I wish I had supportive parents like he does. “And to be fair, I’m pretty sure you inherited that gene as well.”

“Huh,” he scoffs. “I’m nothing like them, darlin’.”

“Really? Did you or did you not bulldoze me when I told you I could get to the hospital on my own?”

“It was a medical emergency. You were practically bleeding out on the sidewalk.”

“I was not,” I say with a laugh. “What about after my hands had been taken care of? All I wanted was directions to the bus stop. Next thing I know, you’re ushering me into an Uber and demanding you come along for the ride.”

“I wanted to make sure you got home safely. Sue me.”

“Well, how about when I got home safely, yet you still came into the van, inserted yourself into my business and stayed the entire night?”

“Jonah needed me.”

“How about this morning when⁠—”

“You’ve made your point,” he cuts in. “Apparently, I’m incapable of watching someone struggle without getting involved. That’s not a bad trait, Dais.”

“True. It’s very bulldozerish, though, don’t you think?”

A low growl rumbles in the back of his throat, and I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face.

I feel like I hit the ground running from the moment I open my eyes.

I hardly slept last night, and it wasn’t because I was in a strange house. It had more to do with everything else weighing on me. Despite the Sinclairs’ offer to help, I’m still worried it’s all going to blow up in my face.

Nolan insisted I sleep in Poppy’s old bedroom, while he chose the lounge. He didn’t want to upset her by sleeping in her grandparents’ bed. Jonah slept beside him in his bassinet because Nolan wasn’t sure he’d hear him from the other side of the house if he woke during the night.

It’s surprising how easily I’ve given up control of my son, even though I don’t really have a choice. Every maternal instinct I have screams at me to protect him. But right now, protecting Jonah means doing the hardest thing possible … handing him over to a man I barely know and trusting him to keep my son safe.

Throughout the night, Nolan quietly brought Jonah to me whenever it was time for a feed. He helped me get him latched on, which is something I’m still getting used to, then burped him, changed his nappy, and settled him back to sleep. He’s been so hands-on, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay him for everything he’s done.

When I pad down the hallway of Poppy’s grandparents’ home and into the main room, the first thing I see is Jonah on the floor. The sight brings an instant smile to my face. His tiny arms and legs thrash excitedly beneath a baby play gym as he bats at the dangling animals overhead.

“Where did that come from?” I ask. I can’t see Nolan, but I’m guessing he’s around here somewhere.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Mrs Sinclair says, drawing my attention to where she’s perched on a barstool at the breakfast bar, a cup of coffee in one hand and the other raised in greeting.

I step further into the room just in time to see Nolan roll his eyes. “She got here an hour ago bearing a shit ton of gifts for you and Jonah.”

My face rears back slightly. “You bought us gifts?”

“You said yourself you left your home with the bare necessities—all you could carry—considering you had a baby with you, I presumed it wasn’t much. I thought you might need a few things.”

“Bulldozer,” Nolan mutters behind a cough.

“I heard that,” Mrs Sinclair scolds.

“Takes one to know one,” I add with a cheeky grin.

Nolan’s eyes narrow. “Sit, you,” he grumbles, pointing to the stool beside his mother. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“You can cook?” I ask.