you get a clean washcloth from the linen closet down the hall and wet it?” She couldn’t worry about Dawson right now. Mason was her priority. She carried her clinging eighteen-month-old son to the couch. He was dead weight in her arms, already in the ninety-seventh percentile for height and weight, and she felt every one of his twenty-six pounds.
Dawson disappeared down the hall, returning a few moments later with the offering. His dark brow creased with worry. He could be intimidating with his tall and powerful frame, and pitch-black hair. He had the face of a warrior...long, strong chin, hawk nose and serious dark brown eyes. But she’d seen the softer side to Dawson and knew exactly where her son got his kind disposition.
Dawson sat on the edge of the solid wood block coffee table.
Normally shy, Mason didn’t blink twice at the stranger’s presence. But then Dawson wasn’t exactly a random person. He was Mason’s father. Did her son know that somehow?
A fresh wave of guilt washed over her as she took the wet cloth from Dawson and placed it on her son’s forehead.
“Stay right here, baby. Mommy’s going to get you some medicine.”
“Who’s dat, Mama?” came out through a yawn. His normally bright dark eyes were glossy and dull from fever. This was more than teething and Melanie was glad Abby hadn’t listened earlier.
“Mr. Hill is a nice man.” She risked a glance at Dawson, who hadn’t stopped staring at their son. No way could she get him to leave now, not with all those questions brewing behind those dark eyes. “He’s going to help us tonight. Okay?”
Mason nodded and then closed his red-rimmed eyes.
“I’ll be right back, sweetie.”
She returned with a fever-reducing medicine strip that would melt on Mason’s tongue as soon as he opened his mouth.
Dawson’s body was square with her son, he was leaning forward, and he seemed protective of the little boy already. Melanie couldn’t deny how right it felt to see the two of them together, no matter how much the thought she could lose Mason caused her chest to tighten.
When she got close enough, she could see that Dawson was holding Mason’s hand. Her heart skipped a beat.
Nothing was ever going to be the same again.
Right now the only thing that mattered was getting Mason’s fever down. She’d have to deal with the rest later.
“Open up, baby,” she said.
Mason did. He’d always been an easy child.
She placed the small strip on his tongue. “Fifteen minutes and you’ll feel all better.”
He yawned again and rubbed his eyes. “Sleepy.”
“Try to rest.” She couldn’t help noticing that Dawson still held her son’s hand.
Melanie perched on the couch next to Mason, turning the cloth to the cooler side, rubbing his back.
“What’s going on with him?” Dawson whispered. Concern deepened his tone.
“At first I thought he was teething but it has to be more.” All of Dawson’s attention was on Mason. Good. Melanie wouldn’t be able to stand it if Dawson scrutinized her.“He’s had teething syndrome, which means several of his teeth have been trying to come in at the same time. They’ve been giving him fits.”
“But that doesn’t explain the coughing and congestion.”
“Exactly.”
He looked up at her. Sensual heat crawled up her neck, and her face heated, which couldn’t be more unwelcome under the circumstances. She diverted her eyes to Mason, her safe place. No one could argue she’d been a good mother. Well, no one but her. Apparently delivering a child meant second-guessing every decision. By the time Mason’s first birthday rolled around, she realized it was most likely a normal part of the turf.
Growing up watching her own parents live in a loveless marriage, Melanie didn’t want to make the same mistakes. She wondered if they’d ever really been in love. Their relationship felt more as if they existed in the same house, like roommates and not husband and wife.
What they had was more of a mutual understanding than a marriage, and maybe a healthy fear of ending up alone.
If Melanie committed herself to a man, she wanted fire and spark and forever. Not someone content to live under the same roof or who was afraid to be by themselves.
And maybe that was a childish notion. Until she was sure about a relationship, she had no problem going solo. But then her last relationship, the one with Dawson, had set the bar pretty high before the unexpected pregnancy and everything that followed.
Fifteen minutes had passed and Mason’s skin was beginning to cool. He’d turned on his side and his breathing had grown steady. Sleep was a good thing for her little angel.
Dawson pulled his cell out of his pocket.
“Who are you calling in the middle of the night?” she whispered.
“My mother. She’ll know what to do.” His voice was low.
She’s already done enough, Melanie thought.
“It’s too late,” she said with a little too much emotion. “And this isn’t the first routine fever I’ve gotten my son through.”
“Is it? Routine?” The way he emphasized that last word made her realize he had other questions about his son’s health, questions she knew would come.
“It’s already coming down.” Panic skittered across her nerves. His mother’s words wound through Melanie’s thoughts. If the baby became sick from the genetic illness that had taken his baby sister far too early, Dawson wouldn’t survive. Then she’d reminded Melanie that Dawson had been adamant about never having kids of his own. He would never risk putting a child through the same thing his sister had endured. His mother had said that if Melanie told him about the baby, then he’d stick around, trapped, and that he’d resent her for the rest of their lives.
Melanie thought about her parents, who’d been forced to marry after an unplanned pregnancy, about their empty lives.
“He felt so hot when I touched his forehead. He was an inferno. It can’t hurt to get a doctor’s opinion,” Dawson said, forcing her out of deep thought.
“Mason tends to get sick fast and hard, and he gets the worst temps. Luckily, he gets over them just as quickly. He needs rest and plenty of fluids. I’ll give his pediatrician a call in the morning just to be sure.”
“His name is Mason.” It was more statement than question, the fire still burning behind Dawson’s eyes.
“Yes.”
“How did this happen?” He held up his free hand. “Don’t answer that...that I know.”
Her cheeks flamed.
“The rest is complicated.” Her gaze bounced from
