Chapter 5 - Sonya

Babies are like tiny grenades—you never know when they’re going to go off, but when they do, it’s chaos. Fiona is no different, and her timing is impeccable. Right as I’m trying to organize the mess that is Jack’s kitchen, Fiona lets out a wail that echoes through the house like a siren. I glance over to where Jack is awkwardly bouncing her, looking like he’s holding a bomb instead of his own kid.

“Are you sure you’re bouncing her right?” I ask, crossing my arms and watching Jack’s half-hearted attempt to soothe Fiona. He’s trying, I’ll give him that, but from the way he’s so stiff and uncertain, it’s just making poor Fiona anxious.

Jack shoots me a look, part defensive, part helpless. “I’m doing what I can, Sonya. It’s not like she came with an instruction manual.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Right, because you definitely read those when you get them.” I step in, gently taking Fiona from Jack’s arms. “Here, let me show you.”

Jack sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps back to give me space. “I swear, she’s got a built-in alarm for whenever I’m about to get something wrong.”

I smirk, swaying Fiona in the way that’s quickly becoming second nature to me. “Maybe she just knows her dad’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

Jack snorts, though there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re hilarious, you know that?”

“Thanks,” I say, a little more sharply than I meant to. It’s hard not to feel a combination of frustration and pity as I watch Jack try to navigate this whole parenting thing. I mean, who gets handed a baby and just expects it to work out? Especially someone like Jack, who’s clearly never had to think about anyone other than himself before now.

I catch Jack watching me as I settle Fiona down, her cries quieting almost instantly. There’s something about the way he looks at me, like he’s both impressed and irritated at the same time. It’s a look I’ve come to expect from him, especially since he realized just how out of his league he is with Fiona.

“You make it look easy,” he mutters, more to himself than to me. “How do you do that?”

I shrug, feeling a weird mix of satisfaction and sadness. “Babies just need to feel safe. They need to know someone’s got them, even when everything else is chaos.”

And I should know. Growing up, I didn’t have that. My dad passed away when I was young, and my mom… well, she wasn’t really there. Not emotionally, at least. She was lost in her grief, completely checked out, and I spent most of my childhood fending for myself. Ram—our alpha back in Stardust Hollow—stepped in when my mom couldn’t, even though he wasn’t even alpha yet. He became the father figure I needed, but even with him looking out for me, it was still lonely. I never really felt like anyone had me, not the way I needed. So, I guess I’ve always had this instinct to make sure others don’t feel that kind of loneliness.

Jack leans against the counter as he watches Fiona. “Yeah, well, I’m still working on that part. All of it, really.”

I glance at him and see a flicker of something in his expression that feels painfully familiar. “What about you? I mean, your parents…”

He lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “My dad took off when I was a kid. Never saw him again after that. And my mom… She stuck around until I was old enough to fend for myself. Then, when I turned eighteen, she packed up and left Green Lake. Guess she figured her job was done.”

I raise an eyebrow, trying to hide the shock on my face. “So, you were pretty much on your own?”

He nods, looking down at his hands. “Yeah. I mean, I had the pack. Evan and Rafe have been good to me, but that’s different, you know? Growing up in Green Lake, with no real family around, you just learn to take care of yourself. No one’s there to show you how to do it right. And that’s what it feels like right now. Nobody is around to tell me what to do here.”

“That sounds… hard, Jack.”

He shrugs, but there’s a bitterness in his voice. “I’m used to it. But I don’t want that for Fiona. I don’t want her to grow up like that, feeling like she’s got no one. I’m trying to be there for her, to show up, but… I don’t know. Half the time, I feel like I’m just screwing it all up.”

I can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy despite myself. I mean, Jack’s got a lot of growing up to do, but it’s clear he wants to do right by Fiona. That counts for something, doesn’t it? “You’ll get there. It’s not about being perfect, Jack. It’s about showing up.”

He nods, but there’s still that lost look in his eyes. “Showing up. Funny, Evan said that’s the easy part. I can do that, though.”

I shift Fiona to my other arm, and for a moment, the three of us just stand there in the quiet, the weight of the situation settling over us like a heavy blanket. It’s a weird feeling, this makeshift family we’ve somehow fallen into. And as much as I try to keep my distance, there’s something about Fiona’s innocent trust, the way Jack looks at her with equal parts terror and awe, that makes it hard to keep my walls up.

“So, tell me about her mom,” I say, breaking the silence. I’ve been dancing around this question since I got here, but I need to know. Need to understand what kind of woman just leaves her baby like this.

Jack stiffens, and his easygoing facade slips just a little. “Casey. We were… it wasn’t anything serious. Just a fling. She never told me she was pregnant, or I would’ve been there from the start. Didn’t tell me until she dropped Fiona on my doorstep.”

“Wow.” I shake my head, feeling a surge of anger on Fiona’s behalf. “Who does that? Just abandons their kid like that?”

Jack shrugs, but there’s a tightness in his jaw that tells me he’s thought the same thing a hundred times. “Casey, apparently. She said she couldn’t handle it. Thought I’d be better off with Fiona than she would.”

I snort, and the bitterness creeps into my tone before I can stop it. “Yeah, because you’re just overflowing with fatherly instincts.”

Jack glares at me. “I didn’t ask for this, okay? But I’m trying. I’m trying to figure it out.”

“And that’s what counts,” I say, surprising myself with the gentleness in my voice. “But you’ve got to stop thinking you’re going to mess it all up just because you didn’t plan it. None of this was planned, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be good.”

Jack nods, and for a second, we’re just two people caught in the mess of unexpected parenthood, trying to make sense of it all.

“Besides,” I add, a teasing note creeping back in, “you’ve got me now. I’m not letting you screw this up.”

Jack chuckles, and a genuine smile tugs at his lips. “Lucky me, huh?”

“Damn right,” I agree, grinning despite myself. “Now, come on. Fiona’s going to need to be changed soon, and you need to figure out how to do it without calling it a biohazard.”

Jack groans, but there’s a lightness to him now that wasn’t there before. “Do we really have to?”

“Yes, Jack,” I say with a laugh. “We really do.”

We get to work, and the awkwardness eases into a strange sort of rhythm as I guide Jack through the basics of baby care. It’s not perfect—we bicker over the smallest things, like how to fold the diaper properly or whether Fiona needs another bottle—but there’s a sense of teamwork that surprises us both.

“So, tell me,” I say as Jack struggles to snap Fiona’s onesie back together. “How many more Caseys are out there?”

Jack shoots me a wry look. “Not as many as you’d think. And none I’d let near Fiona, that’s for sure.”

“That’s reassuring,” I tease, though there’s a part of me that’s genuinely curious. Jack’s reputation as a player precedes him, and it’s hard to reconcile that with the guy who’s trying so hard to be a parent right now. “You’ve got to admit, Jack, you’ve made some pretty questionable choices.”

He pauses, his expression serious as he looks up at me. “Yeah, I have. But Fiona’s not going to be one of them. I’m not going to mess this up, Sonya. Not with her.”

There’s a conviction in his voice that makes me believe him despite everything. And as much as I want to keep my distance, there’s something about the way he’s looking at Fiona —like this tiny human is the most important thing in the world—that makes it hard not to feel a tug of something deeper.

“Good,” I say. “Because she deserves someone who’s going to fight for her.”

Fiona stirs in my arms, her little fists clenching as she lets out a soft sigh. I look down at her, this tiny, fragile life that’s already been through more upheaval than she should ever have to face, and something shifts inside me. This isn’t just about helping Jack out. It’s about making sure Fiona has the kind of love and stability she deserves.

“Thanks, Sonya,” Jack says, as if he’s just read my mind. “For being here. For giving this a chance.”

I meet his gaze, feeling a strange warmth spread through my chest. “Yeah, well, don’t get too used to it. I’m not here to play house.”

Jack grins, and that familiar cockiness seeps back in. “You sure about that? Playing house has its benefits.”

I roll my eyes and swat at his arm. “Let’s just get through today. One diaper at a time.”

“Deal,” Jack agrees, his eyes never leaving mine. “One step at a time.”

We turn our attention back to Fiona, the moment passing but not forgotten. It’s a start, and maybe that’s all we need right now. Because for the first time in a long time, I’m starting to feel like maybe I’m not just floating through this town, but actually finding a place in it. And it’s a feeling I’m not sure I’m ready to let go of just yet.

The days start blurring together faster than I’d like to admit. Between looking after Fiona, managing Jack’s barely contained chaos, and juggling my other two jobs, I’m running on fumes. My mornings at the coffee shop blend into afternoons nannying, and by the time I hit my shift at the diner, I’m barely keeping my eyes open. It’s a miracle I haven’t poured someone a cup of formula instead of coffee yet.

Jack, of course, is oblivious. He’s getting better with Fiona, I’ll give him that—he’s no longer holding the baby like she’s made of glass—but there’s still a lot he doesn’t see. Like how much work goes into just keeping Fiona happy for more than ten minutes at a time. And it’s not just the baby; it’s all the other little things, like laundry, dishes, and figuring out what the hell to feed a tiny shifter who isn’t even on solids yet. Jack’s trying, but he’s not there yet.

“You good?” Jack asks one afternoon, glancing over at me as he struggles to put together Fiona’s pack-n-play. His brow furrows in concentration, like he’s handling some complicated machinery instead of a glorified baby cage.

I stifle a yawn and offer a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, just peachy.” I shift Fiona on my hip, patting her back absently as she nuzzles against my shoulder. “You almost done with that thing? We’ve got, like, ten minutes before she wakes up from her micro nap and wants attention again.”

Jack huffs, sitting back to glare at the half-assembled pack-n-play. “This thing’s a nightmare. It’s like they expect you to have a PhD in baby gear just to put it together.”

“Or maybe just a functioning brain,” I tease, though the effort makes me feel even more exhausted. I can tell he’s trying not to get frustrated, but I’m not sure I’ve got the patience to keep coaching him through every little task. “You know, they have tutorials online for this stuff. Might want to check one out.”

Jack grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe I just need you around to remind me how bad I am at this.”

I want to say something reassuring, but the truth is, I’m too damn tired. Fiona’s starting to stir, so I shift her again, hoping the movement lulls her back to sleep. No such luck. She lets out a whimper, and I can feel Jack’s eyes on me, that mix of gratitude and guilt that’s become all too familiar.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he says quietly, finally managing to snap the pack-n-play into place. “If it’s too much, I’ll figure something out.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Yeah? Like what? You gonna pull a magic nanny out of thin air? Or maybe take time off from your own job, the one that’s keeping this roof over your heads?”

Jack’s silence is all the answer I need. He doesn’t have a backup plan, and we both know it.

“Look,” I sigh, rubbing my eyes. “I’m managing. It’s just a lot right now. But I’m here because I want to be. For Fiona.”

Jack nods, and I can see the weariness in his own eyes. He’s trying to keep up, trying to be the dad Fiona needs, but we’re both running on empty.

“Just let me know if you need a break,” he says, and for a second, his voice is soft. Almost vulnerable. “I don’t want to burn you out.”

I don’t bother answering. Instead, I shift my focus back to Fiona, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that maybe Jack’s right. Maybe I am burning out.

The next few days are a blur of late-night feedings, early-morning shifts, and half-hearted attempts to keep my other jobs from slipping through the cracks. The coffee shop is manageable, mostly because I can zone out while making lattes and no one expects me to chat. But the diner? That’s another story. It’s loud, busy, and I’m constantly on my feet.

Today, I’m dragging myself through a lunch shift, barely keeping my eyes open as I scribble down orders and dodge impatient customers. I’ve already spilled two drinks and gotten a blister from running around in shoes that are one shift away from falling apart. My brain feels like it’s wading through molasses, and every time I blink, it’s a struggle to keep my eyes from staying shut.

“Sonya!” The sharp voice of my manager, Maria, cuts through the din. I blink hard, realizing I’ve stopped in the middle of the floor with my tray tilting precariously. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just… lost my train of thought,” I mumble, forcing myself to move. I can feel the eyes of my coworkers on me. I can’t afford to mess this up. This job is what’s keeping the lights on.

“Get it together, Welsh,” Maria snaps, but there’s concern in her eyes. “You’re no good to me half-asleep on your feet.”

I nod, forcing a smile. “Sorry, won’t happen again.”

But it does. Not ten minutes later, I find myself in the storage room, leaning against the shelves with my eyes drifting shut despite the distant clatter of dishes and the voices outside. Just five minutes, I tell myself. Five minutes to recharge.

It’s the clattering of the mop bucket that jolts me awake, my heart racing as I realize I’ve dozed off. Maria is standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, her expression a blend of frustration and something that looks too much like disappointment.

“This is your last warning. I need you on your game, or you’re out.”

I nod, swallowing hard against the lump of guilt lodged in my throat. “I’m sorry, Maria. It won’t happen again.”

She nods, but her eyes are skeptical. “Make sure it doesn’t. You’ve got too much potential to be slacking like this.”

I force another smile, even though my insides feel like they’re sinking. I’m trying, but I can’t help but wonder if I’m spreading myself too thin—trying to do it all, trying to be everything to everyone, and failing spectacularly at all of it.

As I step back onto the diner floor, my thoughts are a tangled mess of worries and what-ifs. And for the first time, I let myself consider that maybe I can’t keep this up. Maybe I’m not as strong as I thought.