Chapter Two

Reynolds

“A re you sure you don’t want me to come over and help decide if she’s good enough?”

I can’t help but smile at the frustration in my best friend’s voice.

“You just want to come over and play with your niece,” I tease.

“So what? Maybe I do. Knox said he would bring over some chocolate chips he swiped from King’s snack cabinet.”

“Now, that’s tempting,” I sigh. “Every time I try and get something from his cabinet, he throws something at me or threatens to shoot my hand.”

“It’s in the eyes,” Knox chimes in the background. “You have to tap into his soft side and hit him with the dough eyes. It works every single time.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Knoxy,” I say with a chuckle. “I have to go to the courthouse this afternoon to finalize some paperwork. Would you guys care to come over and watch Jessica? Even if I do hire this woman, she won’t start until tomorrow.”

“Of course. I’ll bring the chocolate,” Knox says excitedly.

“Thanks, Knoxy. I can always count on you to appease my sweet tooth.”

“We’ll be there around one,” Taylor says. “Call me if you need us before then.”

“Will do. Thanks, brother.”

“Always.”

Leaning against the wall, I pull out the letter left with the baby and read it for the hundredth time.

Dear Jacob Reynolds,

You probably don’t remember me, and honestly, I’m not someone worth remembering. Regardless, my name is Jeanna Cornwell. Roughly ten months ago, we met at a bar and shared a night together. About two months later, I found out I was pregnant. I know what you’re thinking: you wore protection, and there’s a possibility that it’s not yours.

But here’s the situation. You did wear protection…the first time. We had sex twice that night, and I only found one condom in the trashcan.

At the time, I was a wreck. My husband had died just a week earlier. I had never been with anyone else but him—until you. I needed to feel something, anything, that night. I was lost, lonely, and terrified. You helped me feel alive again, even if just for a moment, and for that, I’m grateful.

But I knew then, as I know now, this baby wasn’t my late husband’s. He died serving our country, and I hadn’t seen him for several months prior to his death.

But still, I took the used condom and had it tested against the baby’s DNA when the time was right. The results will be in this letter. But they leave no room for doubt. This little girl is yours.

I looked for you, and it wasn’t hard to find you. You mentioned being part of a biker club and working in security. It didn’t take long to put the pieces together. But I kept this news to myself, thinking maybe this baby was what I needed to pull myself out of the darkness. I was selfish. I see that now.

You seem like a good man, Jacob. You’ll make a great father. But me? I’ll make a terrible mother. Steve was my soulmate. We were married for ten years, and we chose not to have children. We dreamed of adopting someday, but we wanted to wait until we were ready.

She was born yesterday. Tomorrow, they’re sending us home. But for me, home is no longer on this earth. My home is with Steve, and I want so desperately to be there.

I have included my medical records and the DNA results in case you need it for your daughter. She was born a healthy little girl with no issues. She’s beautiful.

The staff said I couldn’t leave the hospital without filling out the birth certificate. I didn’t want to name her because I didn’t feel like it was my place. She may have my DNA, but she isn’t really my daughter. However, and I know this sounds creepy, but when I researched you, I found out about your sister. The one who was killed and you were wrongly imprisoned for. Her name was Jessica Adair, right?

So, that’s the name I chose: Jessica Adair Reynolds. I think you can change it if you want. I don’t mind.

I don’t have a lot of money, just a few grand, but it’s yours if you want it.

Well, that’s everything. I don’t know if meeting face to face to give her to you is a good idea, so I plan to take her to the firehouse in a few days and place her in that new baby box they've added.

Don’t bother coming to look for me. I’m going home and won’t be here to find.

Take good care of Jessica. Even though I don’t love her like a mother should, I still care for her deeply. Raise her right, protect her, and love her. Find someone who can love you both the way my Steve loved me.

I would say sorry, but I think everything will work out how it should.

Goodbye, Jacob Reynolds.

~ Jeanna Cornwell.

I do remember Jeanna. I could tell she was out of her head the entire night we were together. I just assumed she was high. Instead, she was just lost.

I get it. Fuck, do I get it. I felt the same way when my sister’s boyfriend killed her. I was arrested and sent to prison for three months before they found enough proof to clear my name. They knew who killed her but couldn’t find him.

Now, they never will. Taylor and I made sure of it with a hell of a lot of help from King.

The doorbell rings, snapping me from my head, and I curse. I forgot to disable that damn thing. Every time it rings, the baby wakes up.

I check the monitor and sigh with relief when I see Jessica is still sound asleep.

With one final sigh, I open the door and nearly fall on my ass.

“I can’t hire you,” I say. “Sorry, have a good day.”

“Wait.”

But I slam the door and run a shaky hand through my hair.

Why the hell are my hands shaking?

Shaking my head, I open the door and say, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” before slamming the door again in her face.

What’s going on?

I grab my phone and call Taylor.

“Everything okay?”

“I can’t breathe,” I say, my voice tight. “I can’t fucking see.”

“I’m on my way. What the fuck happened? Where’s Jessica?”

“No,” I say quickly. “I just need help remembering something.”

“Reynolds, you’re not making any damn sense.”

“My dad. His stories.”

“Are you and Jessica in trouble?”

“I am. Possibly,” I admit honestly. “But you’ll understand why here in a few. The stories my dad told us. Remind me.”

“Fuck, Reynolds. Your dad told us many stories.”

“About your person. We never talked about it when you met Knox, but I know you felt it.”

“Fuck,” he sighs. “He used to tell us not to waste time on someone if our souls didn’t tell us they were meant for us.”

“You’ll know who your person is the very second your eyes connect,” I continue, pacing as I try to calm myself. “You’ll feel it down to your bones. The beat of your heart will sync with theirs. It will be instantaneous. Overwhelming.”

Taylor pauses on the other end of the line, his voice softening. “You’re saying you felt it?”

“I don’t know what I felt,” I admit, pacing back and forth. “But the moment I saw her, everything just…clicked. And now I can’t think straight. Hell, I can barely breathe.”

“If she’s the one, you need to figure it out. Don’t be stupid and let her slip away.”

“Knoxy?” I ask, knowing he’ll understand my question.

“The very fucking second,” he whispers.

“My dad is crazy,” I whisper back.

“Your dad is crazy in love with your mom,” he laughs. “Obviously, the man knows what he’s talking about. The second my eyes connected with Knox, I knew he was mine. I didn’t know how I would make that happen, but I knew it would happen.”

“I can’t hire her,” I tell him. “That would be wrong. I’m looking for a live-in nanny. Not to mention, her paper said that she comes with a fifteen-year-old son.”

“What does that have to do with her being your person?” I hear Knox ask, his voice clipped. “Put your feelings aside for a moment and focus on the task at hand. Do the interview with us on speakerphone. We will make sure any decision you make is because it was the right one to make.”

“You need a nanny,” Taylor reminds me. “You can’t bring your daughter on jobs. We’ll worry about everything else after. A five-minute track through the woods, and we can be at your side.”

“You’re right. But I’ll be fine, Knoxy. I’ll call you guys right after.”

“You better,” he responds. “I’m hacking into your email and getting her name. I’m going to dig into her past.”

I would argue, but it’s probably something I should have done with the other three people I’ve interviewed so far.

“Talk to you guys in a bit.”

Taking a deep breath, I hang up the phone and head back to the door. My hand hovers over the handle, my heart still pounding in my chest. With one final exhale, I swing it open.

She’s still there. Face full of freckles and eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be rude. Can we start over?”

She nods slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” I say, stepping aside to let her in. “Please, come in.”

She steps inside, and I notice how her presence seems to ground me, even as my thoughts race. I gesture towards the living room, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask, needing to keep my hands busy.

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” she replies, her voice calm, but there’s a hint of curiosity in her eyes, like she’s trying to figure out what just happened.

I nod and sit across from her, focusing on the task at hand. “So, let’s talk about your experience with infants.”

She settles into the chair, smoothing her hands over her lap before meeting my gaze. “I want to be honest with you upfront,” she begins, her tone steady but sincere. “Apart from babysitting over the years, my only experience with infants is raising my own child. I was a single parent from the start, and he’s 15 now.”

I nod, processing her words. “Go on.”

“If I’m hired as a live-in nanny, he’ll need to move in with me,” she continues. “I understand if that’s a deal breaker, but I want to be clear about it before we go any further.”

Her eyes search mine, and I can see she’s prepared to leave if this doesn’t work out. But there’s something in the way she speaks, the way she carries herself, strong, capable, that makes my head spin.

I sit silently, weighing the options. On one hand, having her teenage son move in adds complexity to an already complicated situation. But on the other, something tells me this woman is exactly who I need, and maybe, who my daughter needs too.

“Fifteen, huh?” I ask, stalling for time as I think. “That’s a tough age.”

“It is,” she agrees, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “But he’s a good kid. He’s been through a lot, and I’m proud of the person he’s becoming.”

I look at her, really look at her, and I know my decision. “It’s not a deal breaker,” I say finally. “I already knew from your application that, if hired, your son would be coming with you.”

Surprise flashes in her eyes, quickly followed by relief. “Are you sure? I don’t want to complicate things for you.”

“I’m sure,” I reply, more certain with each passing second. “Now, is there anything I need to know about your past? Anything that will cause any issues?”

Delphi Mae Lewis hesitates, her gaze dropping for a moment. There’s something she wants to tell me, but I don’t want to force the issue. So, I wait silently.

She’s so damn beautiful, even in her uncertainty. Her long brown hair cascades down her back, the edges spilling over the chair she’s sitting on. Her bright green eyes, usually so vivid, are now clouded with worry.

“Maybe I’m not the best bet,” she says suddenly, her voice soft but filled with doubt. “My past isn’t a pretty place.”

“Maybe not,” I say, not moving from my seat. “But a person’s past molds them into their present self.”

“I hope not,” she smiles sadly, the weight of her words heavy. “I hope I’m better than my past.”

“I have to be honest with you,” I begin, leaning forward slightly. “I have someone looking into you.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“I almost stopped him when he mentioned he was going to do a background check,” I admit, “but I need to think of my daughter. He’ll find out everything there is to know about you and your son. I’m going to ask him not to tell me what he finds out unless there’s an issue I need to know about.”

Delphi’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see the conflict raging within her. Then, slowly, she nods. “I understand. I would do the same if I were in your position.”

“Good,” I say, relieved she isn’t pushing back. “This isn’t about not trusting you. It’s about making sure we’re all safe.”

“I get it,” she says, her voice more robust now. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not trying to hide anything. I just…hope my past doesn’t ruin this opportunity.”

“It won’t,” I assure her, though I know it’s a promise I can’t fully control. But something in my gut tells me I’m making the right decision.

With a nod that I assume was to herself, she retakes her seat.

“Honesty?” she asks.

“Honesty,” I respond.

“When I was fourteen years old, I was raped by the principal at my high school,” she says, not looking away from my eyes, her voice remaining confident and strong. “I was too afraid to say anything. I honestly don’t think I would have ever said anything, but I got pregnant. About five months into the pregnancy, my parents noticed and took me to get an abortion, which I adamantly refused to do. My parents kicked me out, and I’ve been on my own since.”

She moves her hair over one shoulder and plays with the strands. All without removing her gaze from mine.

“I did go to the police, and because of the DNA proof, he was arrested and sentenced to fifteen years in prison,” she continues. “I can see you’re putting two and two together, Mr. Reynolds. My son is the result of that rape. And yes, he does know. Three months ago, I received news that my rapist was out early for good behavior. To make a long story short, he broke into my house and tried to kill me.”

Moving her hair back over her shoulder, she exposes her throat, and I see a long scar, mostly healed, along her throat.

“I’m only alive today because my son is a hero,” she says, tears shining in her eyes. “He heard the commotion while he was in the shower, grabbed the gun that I bought for protection, and shot his father without a single ounce of hesitation.”

Standing, she smiles at the baby monitor showing my sleeping daughter.

“My son hasn’t been the same since that day, Mr. Reynolds. I don’t think he ever will be. But, if you hire me to care for your daughter, I promise that he’ll be her shield against the world when you’re not around to be it yourself. He’s a good boy. He won’t cause any issues. Our past is right where it needs to be. In the past.”

For a moment, the room is filled with a heavy silence, the weight of her words sinking in. I’m not sure what to say or how to process the story she just laid bare before me. But one thing is clear; this woman and her son have been through hell and back.

Her eyes, still locked on mine, are filled with a mixture of pain and strength, and I realize just how much courage it must have taken for her to share that with me.

“Delphi,” I begin, my voice low and steady, “I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, but I can tell you this: you and your son are welcome here. Whatever happened in the past, you both survived it, and that says a lot about the kind of people you are.”

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, but she doesn’t let them fall. Instead, she offers a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Mr. Reynolds. That means more than you know.”

I stand, moving closer to her, my gaze softening as I look at her. “It’s Jacob,” I correct gently. “No need for formalities.”

“Jacob,” she repeats, a bit more at ease.

I nod, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Your son sounds like a brave kid. And if he’s anything like you, I have no doubt he’ll be a good influence on my daughter.”

She swallows, her voice thick with emotion. “He’s had to grow up too fast. But he’s a good boy, and he’ll do whatever it takes to protect those he cares about.”

I nod, the decision already made in my mind. “Then let’s do this. You’re hired, Delphi Mae Lewis. And I’ll make sure you and your son are safe here. No one’s going to hurt you again.”

Her smile widens, and for the first time, it reaches her eyes. “Thank you, Jacob. We’ll do our best to make this work.”

I extend my hand, and she takes it, her grip firm and full of promise. “Welcome to the family,” I say, and I mean it on a level she’s nowhere near ready to accept.

As she releases my hand, I can’t help but glance at the baby monitor where my daughter sleeps soundly. For the first time since she came into my life, I feel like I’m taking a step in the right direction. For both of us.