The screen behind me flashes red. We wiped. The whole raid wiped.
“Z, you coming back or what?” Malik asks through the headset.
I look at the baby, his face red and wet with tears and snot.
Then at the screen, where my character’s corpse is lying on the ground.
Then back at the baby.
It’s not even looking at me. Just wailing at the ceiling like I’m not evenhere. Ungrateful little shit.
“Give me five,” I tell Malik, and rip off the headset.
I grab the bottle from the counter. It’s sitting next to the sink where I left it this morning.
Or maybe last night.
Whatever. Formula doesn’t go bad that fast, right? It’s not real milk.
The bottle’s warm from sitting out so I don’t bother checking the temperature.
I still thought Harper would terminate after finding out the baby wasn't Caleb’s—that would’ve stung, but I wasn't gonna let my pussy feelings get in the way of what I wanted.
The whole problem would just…disappearand magically fix itself, and I’d end up with the girl.
I shake the bottle once and stick it in his mouth.
He latches on for three seconds, then turns his head and starts crying again. The formula dribbles down his chin, soaking into his onesie.
“Are you fuckingkiddingme right now?” I growl.
But I guess I played my part too well. I reacted the way I thought she’d expect me to react when she told me I was the father.
I’m always careful to protect the image of how Harper sees me.
She has to live in a story world, and I’m her protector. I always have been. She’s always had such shit around her, but she doesn’t deserve to live in therealevil fucking reality of the world.
That’s my job. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her from the bad stuff.
The closer to me she is, thesafershe is.
So I couldn’t have her suspecting anything was off.
The baby spits out the bottle again and keeps screaming.
My jaw clenches so tight I can feel my teeth grinding together. The headache behind my eyes explodes like someone’s driving an ice pick through my skull.
I wanted adoption. I tried for months to convince her how much better it would be. My arguments were watertight. We’re too young and too broke to be parents. Not to mention how fucked up we are.
I only gave in because I saw clearly that what my manufactured night of pretend intimacy couldn’t do, a baby she thought I fathered could.
It finally convinced her to giveusa real shot. To see me as more than a friend or a brother.
Now, every night I get to spread her legs wide and take what’smine.
Every night she looks at me like I’m someone worth loving.
All my years of patience finally paid off.