it would get easier, right? Only he hadn’t counted on fate lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to send him to his knees.
Because to be completely honest, he thought, as he gripped the rails of his baby daughter’s crib, at that moment the sickly sweet promise of escape sounded pretty damn good. Except he knew there was no such thing as just one drink, just one toke, to dull the edge. Not for him. No more than he could take one step off a cliff and not end up smashed at the bottom. Literally.
The crazy thing was, he’d never really understood what had driven him off that cliff to begin with. His family was nuts, sure, but no worse than anybody else’s. A lot better than most, actually. Why he’d hurt them, hurt himself, he had no idea. But even through the fog of shock, as his baby—oh, dear God: his baby!—fixed her calm, blue-gray gaze on his and smiled, pumping her chubby bare legs as she lay on her back, Kevin knew he would never, ever, do anything to hurt her.
Pippa, they called her. Short for Phillipa. Where Robyn had come up with that name, God only knew. Still, weirdly, it seemed to fit, he thought as he lowered one hand into the crib, his own smile far shakier than the baby’s. Five chubby fingers curled around his index finger, snaring it in a death grip. Rosebud lips pursed, eyes went huge, chunky little legs ratcheted up the pumping to the next level. Despite Robyn’s sister and father being right out in the hall, arguing—about him, no doubt—a soft chuckle broke the vise constricting his lungs.
He almost couldn’t blame Robyn’s father for not telling him. Hell, in his place Kevin wasn’t sure he wouldn’t’ve done the same thing, if somebody’d knocked up his daughter and then fled the scene of the crime. But it wasn’t like that, and you damn well know it, a faint, barely comforting voice put in.
Yeah, well…
His finger still locked in his baby’s hand, Kevin propped his other elbow on the crib rail to cradle his overstuffed head in his palm, as bitterness, disbelief and helplessness threatened to undo more than a year’s worth of hard work.
Yet another tick-mark in the Kevin-screws-up-again column, he thought, heartsick. What the hell was he going to do? He barely felt confident enough to take care of himself, let alone anybody else. Yeah, he was beginning to think about settling down, focusing on the foreseeable future, but he wasn’t there yet. At the moment he had no job, no home of his own and no funds, except for a small stash left over from what he’d earned helping his brother Rudy fix up his newly purchased inn in New Hampshire. How in the name of all that was holy was he supposed to take care of a baby?
Not that, if the heated discussion outside the door was any indication, Pippa’s grandfather was about to let him.
Kevin shoved the heel of his hand into his forehead, trying to push out the dizziness. Talk about your one-two punches. First, Robyn’s death, then—
“Are you all right?”
He hadn’t heard Julianne come into the room. Or noticed when the arguing had stopped. Still, he definitely caught the slightly off-key note of judgment in her voice. Obviously, since she’d bucked her father about letting Kevin know about Pippa, she’d felt compelled to set the record straight. Didn’t mean she was happy about it. Happy about him.
On a shuddering sigh, Kevin dropped his hand. “Not really, no,” he said, his eyes still on his daughter.
“Sorry. Stupid question.”
He almost smiled. “Where’s your father?”
“Downstairs. Regrouping.” She paused. “But don’t get any ideas about grabbing the baby and making a run for it. He’d be all over you in a New York minute.”
He shifted enough to catch Julianne’s gaze, riveted to the baby. And so would you, he thought. But all he said was, “Yeah, I bet that cane could inflict some serious damage. Not to mention Killer, there.”
Wagging his tail—after a fashion—the barrel-shaped dog hobbled over to lick Kevin’s fingers, then collapsed at his feet with a sigh. Which Julianne echoed. “Okay, so Gus probably isn’t much of a threat. But never underestimate a man who can still bench-press two hundred and fifty pounds. On his better days, at least.”
“I take it he’s pissed at you for going over his head?”
“He’ll get over it,” she said, unexpected steel underneath the softness. Another pause. “I know what you’re thinking. But believe it or not, Dad’s not a bad man. Just a hurting one. And I don’t mean his back.”
Kevin let the words settle into his brain, one at a time, before he said, “Believe me, you have no idea what I’m thinking.”
“No,” she said after a moment. “I don’t suppose I do.” Outside, a couple of doves hoo-hooed, off-sync. “She’s a miracle, you know.”
Kevin finally tore his attention away from the baby to really look at her aunt, still by the door. Sticklike arms pretzled across a white, shapeless top, over a pair of those pants that looked like brown paper bags with legs. Behind steel-rimmed glasses, pale blue eyes regarded him warily from deeply shadowed sockets. Cripes, the woman was so fair you could practically see straight through her, her shoulder-length hair as blond and fine as a little girl’s. Even at her most wasted, Robyn hadn’t looked that bad. A few brain cells wondered what her story was, even as he said, “A miracle, how?”
“If Robyn hadn’t broken her ankle in a fall right after you left, Dad might not have known she was pregnant until it was too late to intervene.” Her gaze never left Kevin’s, a bird keeping a steady, watchful eye on the thing that might eat her. “We basically strong-armed her into rehab, then refused to let her out of our sight for the rest of the pregnancy. If we hadn’t…”
Another sour pang of frustration erupted in the center of his chest. “The baby’s okay, then?”
“So far, so good,” she said, her gaze shifting back to the baby. “She was a couple weeks early, but a good seven and a half pounds at birth. And she seems to be developing a little ahead of the curve. So we’re hopeful.”
Hopeful, but not sure. Now panic wiped out the frustration, that maybe she’d need special help down the road, and what if he didn’t know what to do? Or couldn’t afford it—?
“Dad was only following Robyn’s lead, by the way,” Julianne said. “About not telling you. She was convinced you’d abandoned her.”
Kevin gnawed the inside of his cheek. “Since I didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address, she wasn’t that far off the mark. Even so, I wouldn’t’ve left if I’d known she was pregnant. Even at my worst, I was never a total scumbag.”
“Did you love her?”
He rubbed the baby’s tummy, stalling. “Nobody was talking in terms of forever, if that’s what you mean. Even if either of us had been capable of thinking more than five minutes ahead. Not something I’m proud of, but I’m not gonna lie about it, either. And Robyn swore she was on the pill.”
“And you believed her?”
One corner of his mouth ticked up. “I hedged my bets, okay? But there was one night—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Julianne said quickly. “But in any case, it would have been difficult for Robyn to tell you since she didn’t know herself. At least, I’m
