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  “Brant Wylder.”

  “I’ll need to see some ID, sir.”

  Fingers shaking, he reached into the inside pocket of his tux and withdrew his wallet. Flipping it open, he handed it to her.

  “License only, please. If you’d take it out for me…”

  “Oh sure, sure.” He passed his ID. “How’s Lainey?”

  Holding up a wait-one-minute finger, she studied the license, looked back up, and gave Brant a thorough scan. “You’re dressed a little better than most of our visitors.”

  “I was at a wedding in Misty Bottoms when my dad called.”

  “Magnolia House?”

  He nodded. “My sister?”

  “She’s in stable but guarded condition, Mr. Wylder. I believe they’re prepping her for surgery.”

  “Surgery?” His stomach clenched. “Can I see her?”

  A younger woman dressed in scrubs walked through a set of double doors.

  “Judy,” Nurse Ratched said, “could you take Mr. Wylder back to see his sister?”

  Judy threw Brant a sympathetic smile. “Follow me.”

  “Thanks.”

  He swung through the doors behind her. They moved past several curtained cubicles before she stopped and drew aside a privacy curtain. His baby sister lay unmoving, her face the same pale hue as the thin white sheet. Her eyes were closed, and a tangle of wires tethered her to beeping machines. Brant’s stomach dropped to his toes.

  Was she breathing?

  Was he?

  He took a step closer and, realizing his legs had turned to mush, white-knuckled the bed rail. “Lainey?”

  Her eyes flickered open, then closed again.

  Instinctively, he reached out and gently squeezed her fingers. “It’s Brant, honey,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

  She didn’t respond, and he couldn’t tell if she’d heard him or not, but he kept talking. Whether for her or himself, he wasn’t sure.

  “You’re going to be fine, sweetheart. Everything will be okay. And don’t fret about Jax. I’ve got him covered.”

  He prayed he did, that Jax was, indeed, here and okay.

  The curtain parted, and a doctor stepped in.

  Brant held out a hand. “Brant Wylder, Lainey’s brother.”

  The doctor took his hand in a firm shake. “I’m Dr. Willis, Lainey’s surgeon. Your sister’s suffered some internal injuries along with a broken left arm. We’re taking her to surgery.” He studied Brant. “You’re aware of the circumstances of her accident?”

  “Only what my dad told me over the phone.”

  “There are a couple police officers down the hall who’ll need to speak with you.”

  Brant nodded, his mouth Sahara-dry. “Could we—” He tipped his head, indicating the curtain.

  The doctor drew it back, and they stepped outside.

  His voice low, Brant asked, “My nephew? Dad said he wasn’t involved in the accident.”

  “No, he’s fine.”

  “Thank God! Where is he?”

  “It’s my understanding he’s with the officers.” A pair of orderlies entered the small area, and the doctor rattled off instructions. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wylder, but you’ll need to leave now so we can take care of your sister.”

  Brant swept the curtain aside, leaned over Lainey, and kissed her forehead. “Everything will be okay, sugar,” he whispered. “I love you, Lain. We all do.”

  Staring at her battered and bruised face, knowing what lay ahead for her, he’d have given anything in the world to take her place. But he couldn’t. He’d never felt so helpless.

  As they wheeled her out, he rubbed his tired eyes. His first order of business was to track down his nephew and speak with the police. Once Lainey recovered—and she would—she’d face legal problems. Maybe he could help with that. Not that he wanted her to skate scot-free. Part of her recovery would be confronting what she’d done. Still…

  If only he knew why she’d been drinking, what had set her off.

  “I wish you were here, Mom,” he mumbled. “You always know what to do.”

  *

  Halfway to the ER waiting room, a uniformed officer waited in the corridor, bouncing a crying baby in her arms. Another officer, looking stern, lounged against the wall. Seeing Brant, he straightened.

  The look in his eyes had Brant’s gut churning. Then his gaze swung back to the baby—his nephew. The one somebody had to take care of.

  The one he had to take care of.

  A moment of absolute and utter panic followed, a moment during which he fought the urge to bolt through the doors at the end of the hall and make a run for it. But he couldn’t. This was Lainey’s baby. The next generation of Wylders.

  When Mom and Dad found out she was pregnant, the crap had really hit the fan. But the second they laid eyes on Jax, they’d fallen in love. Like one enormous Band-Aid, he’d healed the hurt.

  When he’d turned two months old, Lainey had moved in with their aunt Flo in Florida. Now, although the circumstances flat-out stank, Brant couldn’t wait to get his hands on the kid again. How he’d cope full-time with a baby scared the bejesus out of him, though. He’d enjoyed Jax when Lainey and the baby stayed with his folks, but the second he needed to be fed or changed, Brant had passed him on. Now? Nobody was in the field to catch the pass.

  “You Brant Wylder?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m Officer Douglas, and this is Officer Blackburn. There’s a strong resemblance between you and your sister.”

  “That’s what people say.”

  “Sarah said you’d gone back to check on your sister, so I figured we’d catch you here, where we had a little more privacy.”

  “Sarah?”

  “The nurse at the admitting desk.”

  “Ah. I didn’t get her name.”

  Hoisting the baby to her chest, Officer Blackburn started pacing back and forth, patting his back and whispering to him. Brant’s gaze followed them.

  “Could I see some ID, Mr. Wylder?” the patrolman asked. “Gotta follow procedure.”

  “Sure.” Brant pulled out his wallet yet again, flipped it to his driver’s license, and held it up for the cop.

  “Thanks.”

  “Why’s Jax crying?”

  “My guess is he’s hungry. Blackburn was on her way to track down a bottle and some food when we heard you’d arrived.”

  Brant nodded.

  “You don’t have kids of your own, Mr. Wylder?”

  “Me?” He pointed at his chest. “No. No wife, no kids.”

  “Well, seems that’s changed. Temporarily, at least.”

  “Guess so.” Brant wet his lips. “I haven’t had much experience with babies.”

  “You’ll learn fast.”

  Brant exhaled a long breath. “I sure hope so.”

  “The emergency card in your sister’s wallet listed your dad’s number first,” Douglas said. “Seems he can’t make it. Apparently, your mother has some serious health problems.”

  “Yeah, she had a stroke.”

  “You’re second on the card, so tag, you’re it,” Douglas said.

  Brant pinched the bridge of his nose and winced when another wail rent the air. Sounded like the kid was working up a good mad.

  “This baby needs to be fed,” Blackburn said.

  Brant held up a finger and walked through the doors to the checkin window. “Sarah?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think we might get something to feed my nephew?” He placed his hands palms down on his tux jacket. “No baby food or formula with me. Did they bring anything from Lainey’s car?”

  “Actually, I think the friend had a diaper bag with her.” She picked up the phone, spoke into it, and hung up. “It’s back with your sister’s things.”

  Officer Douglas had followed him. “I’ll get it.” He disappeared behind the double doors.

  Brant looked at the female cop who stood beside him, compassion on her face.

  “Can I hold h
im?”

  “Sure.” She carefully transferred the angry baby to Brant.

  Instinctively, he cuddled Jax against his chest and rocked back and forth. The baby let out a shuddering sigh and snuggled closer, one little hand resting on Brant’s chin. “Do you remember me? Hmm? I’m Uncle Brant, your favorite. Uncle Tucker and Uncle Gaven? Not important. No, they’re not.” He kissed the palm of the soft, little hand. “You lucked out tonight, kid. You got the handsome uncle. The undisputed genius of the family. Yes, you did.”

  The baby stopped crying and stared up at him with solemn eyes, tears clinging to his lashes.

  Brant took the chubby fingers in his and raised them to his lips to give them a noisy kiss. Jax sent him a watery grin. “What are we gonna do, champ? Huh? I’m an okay uncle, but not much in the daddy department.”

  Officer Blackburn’s smile disappeared, and her tone took on the timbre of a stern teacher. “Mr. Wylder, if you honestly don’t think you can handle him, we’ll call in Child Welfare.”

  “Oh, I’ll handle it.” He met her eyes. “Jax is not going into the system. Are you, kid?”

  In answer, Jax crammed half his fist into his mouth and sucked furiously.

  Blackburn nodded slowly. “Handsome little guy, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah, he is.” Brant traced a finger down the side of Jax’s cheek. “And he’s stopped crying.”

  The baby’s face puckered up, and his chin trembled.

  “Uh-oh. Said the wrong word, didn’t I?” He swayed gently and rubbed the baby’s back. “Your food’s coming.” He peered down the hall, hoping he’d see the other police officer heading their way.

  No luck.

  Slowly, he started down the hall, jiggling Jax, with Blackburn beside him. “Guess I’d better stop on the way home for formula and baby food.”

  “They sell everything you’ll need in the grocery store’s baby aisle.”

  “Okay. Good to know.” He scratched his head with his free hand. “It’s been a long time since I’ve fed a baby.”

  “It’ll come back to you. I’ve got a niece about this one’s age. Want me to feed him this time?”

  “Please.”

  Blackburn took the baby as Officer Douglas hustled down the hallway, a pale-blue diaper bag in hand.

  Douglas tossed the bag to Brant.

  Reflexes kicked in, and he caught it.

  “There’re formula and diapers in there along with a couple jars of food.”

  “Does he have any teeth yet?”

  Blackburn ran a finger over the baby’s gums. “Nope.”

  Holding Jax, she sat on one of the hard, vinyl chairs. “Dig out a jar of food. Anything’s fine. And a spoon. A bib would be good, too.”

  Brant found everything and opened the lid on the jar. Passing it to her, he said, “Next time you do a fund-raiser, let me know.” He whipped out a business card and handed it to her. “My way of saying thanks.”

  Before she could pocket the card, Douglas took it. “You the Wylder who restores vintage cars?”

  “That would be me.”

  He cracked a grin. “Caught a couple of your shows on TV. You and your brothers do one heck of a job.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Loved that Corvette you did. The one the guy had in his shed for, what, thirty-five years?”

  “That was fun. My brothers are on their way to Texas right now to pick up one a guy found in an old barn.” The whole time they talked, he kept his eyes on Blackburn and Jax. The kid ate like a trouper. Every time the spoon got close to the baby’s mouth, Brant opened his own.

  Blackburn saw him and laughed. “It’s a reflex thing. I do it, too.”

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done tonight for my family.” He pointed at the baby, who was chowing down on the brightest orange food Brant had ever seen. “This will get us on level footing—then, we’ll be fine.” He recognized the words for a lie, but he’d do or say whatever it took.

  “A high chair would make feeding him a lot easier and a lot less messy.”

  “Okay.” He pulled out his phone and made a note to find a high chair, food, and formula.

  “Get some bibs while you’re at it.”

  He added bibs. “Any special kind?”

  She grinned. “The bigger, the better.”

  “Big bibs. Maybe the size of beach towels?”

  Douglas laughed. “You think that’s funny. Now.”

  Brant groaned.

  Blackburn fixed a bottle. “I’ll let you feed him this a little later. He should sleep for a while afterward.”

  “Right.”

  The handoff completed, Jax squealed happily. Now that his tummy was full, he sat on Brant’s lap and plucked at his bow tie with busy little fingers.

  Douglas held out one of his own cards. “In case you need anything.” The patrolman rested one hand on the gun at his hip. “And Mr. Wylder? You might want to see about getting a lawyer for your sister.”

  Brant’s jaw clenched. “Lainey is undergoing surgery, and you’re thinking about tossing her in jail?”

  “Nothing about this makes me happy,” Douglas shot back. “But she broke the law.”

  “Understood.” And he did. “You’re just doing your job.”

  Jax whimpered, and Brant’s gaze swung to the baby. “What’s wrong?”

  “He senses your anxiety,” Blackburn said.

  “What if I screw this up?”

  “You won’t.” She stared straight into his eyes. “You know why? Because you’re all he’s got right now.”

  And didn’t that rank right up there with the crappiest luck ever.

  Chapter 4

  Nurse Sarah came up to him after the officers left. “Ready to feed him that bottle?”

  Brant nodded.

  “You’ll be more comfortable in the surgery waiting room. It’s a lot quieter and a lot more private.”

  “Thank you. I don’t suppose there’s anywhere I can grab some coffee?”

  “There is.” She threw him an actual smile. “Tough night, huh?”

  “Boy, there’s the understatement of the century.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “Your sister’s in good hands. Dr. Willis is one of our best.”

  “Again, thank you.” He shifted the baby and tossed the diaper bag over his shoulder.

  Sarah gave him directions to the cafeteria and the surgical waiting room. “I’ll let them know where you are so they can find you when she comes out of surgery.”

  Guilt at having dubbed her Nurse Ratched gnawed at him. “Wait. If you have a minute—” He held up a hand. “You asked earlier about Magnolia House.”

  “I did.” Sarah sighed. “Is the place as wonderful as I hear? My daughter’s thinking about having her wedding there.”

  “If you’re looking for a place to get hitched, it’s first-rate.” Brant pulled his phone out from an inside jacket pocket. “Pictures of today’s wedding.”

  “Oh.” Sarah took the baby while Brant scrolled through the photos. “Looks like Patti and I will be taking a trip to Misty Bottoms. The house and grounds are exquisite.”

  Molly, in her plum passion, popped into Brant’s head. “Everything there is perfection.”

  “Well, I’d better get back to my desk before someone sends a search party for me.” She handed the baby back to him. “Good luck, Mr. Wylder.”

  “Thank you.”

  Eyeing the bottle and noticing the way Jax kept bending his head toward it, mouth open, Brant figured he’d better feed the kid first. His coffee could wait.

  Sarah’s directions led him to a quiet, empty waiting room. Exhaling loudly, he plopped down in a chair. “And here we are.”

  Jax gurgled his agreement.

  Setting the baby on his lap, Brant said, “Your mommy is out of commission for a bit, kid, so it’s just you and me. You good with that?”

  “Babamagoo.”

  “Exactly my thoughts.”

  The two quietly eyed eac
h other, then Jax grinned. Brant smiled back for all of three seconds, the time it took him to register the sudden warmth on his trouser leg. He lifted the baby and grimaced at the wet spot on his tux pants.

  “You peed on me, imp.”

  Jax’s lower lip trembled.

  “That’s okay. No harm, no foul. Well, foul maybe, but the dry cleaner should be able to get it out, right?”

  Jax smiled and kicked his tiny feet.

  “Why do I sense this wasn’t an accident?”

  The babble that followed was either justification or denial. Brant couldn’t decide which. Forget his wet pants. Far scarier, Jax’s sodden diaper had to be changed. But he could handle that, couldn’t he? How hard could it be?

  Digging into the bag, he found diapers and a small blanket. He laid the baby on it and unsnapped Jax’s little suit. “You are just wet, aren’t you? You didn’t, like, make a mess?”

  More earnest but totally unintelligible jabber.

  “I’m going in.” With that, he pulled the tab and nearly wept with relief. Wet. No little surprises. Plucking at his own damp trouser leg, he whispered, “Thank you.”

  He destroyed two diapers but got the third one on—loosely. But as long as the kid wore another one-piece thing, it should hold everything in place, right? Getting him into a dry outfit proved to be a major undertaking. It was as if Jax had grown ten arms, but he finally got the job done.

  Swiping the sweat from his brow, Brant picked up the kid, scooped up the dirty diaper along with the two he’d ruined, and headed toward the restroom. He dumped them in the trash and rinsed his hands one at a time, while the baby wiggled in the other arm.

  “Hey, who’s that?” He pointed at Jax’s reflection in the mirror.

  “Babagaga!” Laughing, Jax leaned forward and high-fived the baby staring back at him.

  After Brant pulled a few faces and tickled the mirror baby, he headed for a chair. Sitting down, he picked up the bottle. “Want this?”

  His feet kicking happily, Jax squealed and reached for it. Though he tried, it took all of thirty seconds for Brant to understand Jax couldn’t quite hold it himself yet.

  With Jax tucked into the crook of his arm, Brant popped the nipple into the baby’s mouth and watched as he drank hungrily and noisily.

  Officer Blackburn had been right. The bottle pushed him over the edge. Jax’s eyes fluttered shut, then flew open, only to close again. Milk dripped from his mouth and ran down his chin, and Brant swiped at it with a tissue.