Her eyes softened with compassion. “Yeah, that happens. Just wait until it’s three a.m. and your brain quits.” She gave me a soft smile. “It’s going to be okay. I already have a plan.”
“Of course you do,” Axel said with a quick smile and a roll of his eyes.
“Hey, why isn’t yours making that noise?” I asked him across the room. I was the only guy on the team who didn’t have to look up to Axel because we were roughly the same height—considered giants as hockey players.
“Because mine is blessedly asleep,” he flinched. “But he won’t be for long if your daughter stays that angry.”
Your daughter.
She wasn’t just any baby, she was a girl. What the fuck did I know about girls? My closest cousins were all boys, and even when I’d lived in that chaotic AF household, I’d never had to care for any of the younger ones. I’d just blended into the pack, easily forgotten amidst that much mayhem. Skye was going to be forced into way more mayhem if we called the cops right now.
As if she’d heard my thoughts, she let out a particularly loud bellow.
London passed by again, and I stepped into her path. “Give her to me.” I held out my hands.
London’s eyebrows shot up.
I’d only held her for the length of time it had taken to unbuckle her from the car seat and hand her straight to Sterling’s wife when we’d gotten here. Hell, it had been Maxim who’d figured out how to secure her seat in my car. I couldn’t even do that.
“Here we go, little one,” London cooed to Skye. “Here’s Da—” She slammed her lips shut and pressed them in a straight line as she passed Skye to me.
She was so fucking tiny in my hands. Bigger than Axel’s son, thank fuck, because I probably would have crushed one that little on accident, but still...tiny. I held her beneath her arms and she quieted for a second as we stared at each other, my hazel eyes meeting her blue ones.
I tilted my head and she matched the gesture, a tiny smile erupting on her face to reveal two little teeth. Good, that meant she could bite if someone fucked with her.
She wiggled, her face scrunching for an instant before she screamed the roof off the arena.
“Fuck,” I muttered, then winced. “Shit, I can’t even not swear.”
Axel laughed. “She doesn’t understand you. You’re fine.”
“Here,” Langley stepped in. “Put one hand here—” She moved my palm to the bottom of Skye’s butt. “And tuck her in like this.” She brought the baby to my chest and adjusted my other hand so it braced her back. “There you go.”
Skye let out another cry, then another. “Seems like this position only helps deafen me,” I mumbled, but I started patting her back out of instinct more than anything.
Her cries softened, but didn’t stop.
“Like I was saying,” Langley continued with a proud smile as she watched me awkwardly tap on Skye’s back with my fingers. “I have a plan, or at least an idea.”
“I’m all ears.”
Skye bellowed, and I winced.
“Maybe I’m down to one ear, so you’d better talk fast.”
“I’ve already called a nanny,” she blurted with a grin. “She’s background checked, interviewed, has a doctorate in child psychology…” Her brow puckered. “I mean, really she’s actually overqualified, if anything—”
“Then why isn’t she your nanny?” I asked, adding a little bounce to the whole back-patting routine.
“She would’ve been if Axel hadn’t demanded we hire someone who speaks Swedish.” She shot Axel a look.
“Hey, it’s important that he speaks my language, too, and you know you like Nora.” Axel crossed his arms over his chest.
“I adore Nora,” Langley assured him. “But I’m telling you, Fiona would have been my first choice,” she whispered to me as her cell phone dinged. “Oh! She just got here. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared through the door and we all stared at Skye, who was making her displeasure widely known.
“Fuck,” I mumbled. “Maybe foster care is better for her. I don’t know that the hell I’m doing. I’ll probably drop and break her.” That icy feeling caught hold of me, cutting into me with the sharp claws of logic.
“You’re not going to drop her,” Sterling said, shaking his head.
“You’ve got the best hands on the team,” Maxim added.
“They’re tougher than you think,” Axel weighed in. “You’re not going to hurt her.”
She lurched back out of my arms, going rigid with another cry, and I caught her easily, holding her so she couldn’t buck out of my hands again. “Bold strategy, little girl,” I said, looking into those sky-blue eyes. No wonder her name was Skye.
“What do you want to do?” Asher asked.
Every second I stared at her, the shock wore off little by little. Those were my mother’s eyes. Fate already hadn’t been kind to this little girl because she was mine, I knew it in the marrow of my bones. “Schedule the paternity test.”
“Already done. The lab guys will be here in twenty,” he responded.
The crying started up again, and I brought her to my chest like Langley had shown me. “Little girl, I will give you half my paycheck if you stop that.”
Apparently she wasn’t after money, because the crying only escalated.
“Here we go!” Langley said, breezing through the door, another woman hot on her heels. “Brogan, this is Fiona. Fiona, this is Brogan and Skye.”
Fiona. I repeated her name silently so I wouldn't forget it. I was shit with names. Her dark hair was piled into a knot on her head, and more than a few strands had busted loose, giving her a just-rolled-out-of-bed look. Then again, it was only eight-thirty on a Sunday morning, so I couldn’t fault her on that one. Her sweatshirt hung haphazardly off one shoulder, and—wait, were those Crocs? Yep, she was rocking a pair of electric green crocs at the end of her black leggings.
Skye’s cries escalated to torturous, all hitting the same pitch in the same rhythm.
Fiona blinked, watching her for a few seconds before stepping forward and looking up at me with a set of Carribbean-blue eyes rimmed with a set of thick, sooty lashes. “May I hold her?” she asked, her voice this soft, soothing tone that made me blink.
Right, because it was my choice who held Skye. The weight of that responsibility settled on my shoulders and shockingly didn’t take me out at the knees. I looked Fiona over again, this time objectively. Her hands were outstretched, so she was eager and willing. Her frame was lithe but strong, so she could probably handle Skye’s meager weight. The Crocs didn’t speak to her coordination, but she hadn’t tripped or anything while walking in, so I was just going to have to trust that she wouldn’t drop Skye.
And if she’d passed Langley's tests, then she was qualified.
“Sure,” I said, pulling Skye away from my chest.
Fiona flashed me a quick, distracted smile as she concentrated on Skye, taking the baby from my arms and give her a once-over. “When was she fed?” she asked the room.
“About a half hour ago,” London answered. “And burped.”