straight out of that starry sky and crash-landed between them. “What’s happening now?”
“She didn’t lose the baby,” Bennett said, his voice raw. “She didn’t lose the baby. She lied to me.”
“Why?” She blinked. “How do you know that?”
“Because the baby is a damned fifteen-year-old boy and he is in my guest room.”
Kaylee exhaled. “Dammit to hell.”
“That’s what I said. Well, that’s what I thought.”
“How do you know he’s yours?”
“He looks just like me. He’s the right age. She would have had to go and get pregnant again pretty damn quick for all to match up like this. And with someone who resembled me.”
“Possible,” Kaylee said, “I mean, if she had a type.”
“She lied to me,” Bennett said. “She lied to me, and she lost custody of our son at some point because of drug addiction.”
“Bennett... I don’t even know...”
“Me either. You were the first person that I called. Kaylee, I need you.”
And there he was, standing out under a romantic, expansive Oregon sky, professing to need her, his dark eyes illuminated by the moon, the sincerity in them deep enough to steal her breath. He needed her. But not for what she had always hoped he might. He needed her because his life was falling apart. He needed her because everything was falling apart and he knew that she would help pick up the pieces, no matter how big or heavy they were. Because it was what she did. It was what they did.
He had called her. He needed her.
And yes, she’d just been in the process of trying to fix her narrowed, Bennett-focused world, but she didn’t know how she could turn away from him now. How she could possibly spend less time with him when this was happening.
Dates with nice men who had nicer dogs were important. She needed to go on them because she needed to figure out a way to find some healthier balance inside of herself.
But not now.
Her best friend had just found out that he was a father. A father to a fifteen-year-old, and that child was sitting in his house.
The very fact was like a slap.
Bennett had just found out he was a father.
He was her friend. She needed to get over herself for just a few minutes and deal with the reality of that.
“Where is he now?” she asked, feeling numb.
“He’s in his room. Asleep I think. Or maybe plotting my death, I don’t know. It’s tough to say.”
“Are you okay?” It was a stupid question. She wasn’t okay, how could he be okay?
“I’m not okay,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do. I feel like I would be hard-pressed to find a paternal bone in my body if you handed off a baby to me. Much less handing me a fifteen-year-old and telling me he’s my kid.” He let out a long, heavy breath. “I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know what to do with the kid. Much less a kid that’s half a man and all trouble. I don’t know... I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to know right this second,” she said.
She knew he felt like he did. Like he needed to regroup and come up with a plan of attack in five minutes flat without taking more than a second to panic.
It hit her then that his version of that had been calling her.
That she was the one person he’d been able to call when he’d been mired in the feeling of not knowing what the hell was happening in his life.
That mattered to her. That she could be that person for him.
That she was important.
“I kind of do,” he said. “He’s in there. And I have to...parent.”
What would Bennett’s son look like? Her heart stuck then, a dull ache spreading out through her throat. She would know the answer to that question soon.
But Bennett had said that the kid was asleep. Still, suddenly, she was overwhelmed by curiosity. Kind of a morbid curiosity because the idea of seeing a child that Bennett had made with somebody else walking around felt like it would be painful in many ways. But also...amazing in others.
Her throat tightened, emotion expanding in her chest. “I doubt he expects you to just...magically be perfect. He doesn’t know how to be your son any more than you know how to be his father. You’re going to have to...feel it out together.”
“I told him he was staying,” Bennett said. “He’s staying. I don’t know much of anything except that. I know that I want to...fix things somehow. But I don’t know how. I’ve never felt more like I needed to do something and less certain of what that something was ever in my whole life.”
She had no idea what to say to that. “Well, I don’t know what the hell to do with a kid either. But I know that we can figure this out together. I’ll help you with your family. I’ll help you with him.” She didn’t know the kid’s name. He hadn’t said. “What’s his name?”
“Dallas,” Bennett said.
The name was very not Bennett. Not traditional enough. And Bennett had never been to Texas so there was no personal connection to it at all. “I guess it’s too late to change it now.”
He laughed. “Just a little bit.”
Kaylee wanted to be what he needed. But she didn’t know how to be. So she would just be there with him. That she could do. “Can I...can I come in for a little while?”
“For a little while.” Bennett turned away from her and she went after him, following him toward the house on unsteady legs, her heart throbbing at the base of her neck.
Bennett pushed the door open and she followed him in, looking around the clean, well-organized home, which didn’t look at all as if it had been disturbed today, much less like it had taken on a new occupant. Everything was in order, everything in its place, just as Bennett always kept it. Bennett liked to be in control of his world, and she’d always understood the compulsion. Her own home life had been chaotic, and her method of coping had been to close the door on it and pretend it wasn’t happening. Bennett had lost his mother when he was a little boy, and she imagined his carefully ordered life was designed to give him control after feeling so powerless then.
They’d both gotten into veterinary medicine because they wanted to fix. To heal. To help. A small bit of control in a world that offered very little, in reality.
A teenager showing up and moving in was...anything but controlled and orderly.
“I’ll take a drink.”
“Well, I want about ten. Can you drink when there’s a minor
