“Ah.” Shane made a thoughtful noise as he stretched. “I was just thinking that this might be easier if it was something you’d always wanted, but more a matter of timing.”
“Trust me that I’m the last guy someone wants as a husband and father.” No one was lining up to commit to a guy who moved on as often as Brandt, and who had his fetish for dangerous hobbies and occupations.
“I feel that.”
“You?” Brandt’s own musical tastes were more diverse, running heavily to metal and alternative, but his impression of country was that it leaned heavily to the blond, wholesome, and saccharine. “And you’re young. No white picket fence and hound dog with two kids in the future for you?”
“Nah. I won’t say in interviews, of course, but I’m not the wife type.” Shane met Brandt’s eyes as they stopped for a traffic sign.
“Ah.” Message received. Brandt had figured that might be the case, but he didn’t like to assume. “Not going to find judgment from me. I’m—”
“Think this is the place.” Mouth a thin line, Shane pointed to a quaint downtown building. The set of his jaw said this was not a conversation topic that he was eager to resume. Which was just as well. Brandt tended to keep his personal life private, but he’d been about to match Shane’s cryptic disclosure with one of his own. Probably for the best, though, that they keep their focus on the kid, and not on the fact that these sparks between them might not be a total illusion.
“Look.” After finding a parking spot, Brandt turned toward Shane. “I might not be eager to be a dad, but I’m not gonna run from my responsibility either. Just want to say that before we go in there.”
“Good. And I’m the one who dumped this in your lap. I can put something toward the lawyer—”
Brandt held up a hand. “I’ve got some savings. Let’s see what she says.”
Brandt’s buddy was a grizzled late thirties smoke jumper with more beard than face, but his wife, Cameron, was an elegant blonde with short hair, a sharp business suit, and an enviable way of cutting to the chase. She led them to a well-lit corner office with a little couch where Shane sat with the baby. Brandt took one of the leather side chairs while she reviewed the situation in concise terms, taking notes on a shiny tablet.
“Because there was never an acknowledgment of paternity form, getting you removed from the birth certificate shouldn’t be too hard if the paternity test is negative, but I’m going to level with you—I’m expecting it to be the opposite.”
Brandt nodded. That was the view he’d been coming around to more over the last twenty-four hours as well. The birthmark was hardly a definitive DNA test, but the coincidences kept adding up.
“And given the abandonment, what we need to be moving toward is a custody order for you.” Cameron clicked her stylus for emphasis, leveling a shrewd gaze at him. “Otherwise, Mom can show up at any moment and reclaim the kid and potentially make visitation a nightmare for you.”
“Don’t want that.” He hadn’t thought much on that possibility—the idea that he was the father, but that he could end up cut out of decision making. But now that she’d said it, he didn’t much care for that notion at all. He glanced at Shane, who was also frowning as he patted the baby.
“With Shelby anything’s possible. Get the official document.”
“Okay. Good.” Cameron turned back toward Brandt. “So, you’ll want to be able to show that you’re better positioned to provide a stable home than other options if and when this goes to court. What’s the plan for living arrangements? For example, do you have a room for the baby? Childcare? The court will look at all those factors.”
Fuck. Now there was a whole list of items he’d been avoiding thinking too hard on. But he supposed he had little choice but to make some sort of plan.
“I’ll call Maggie after this, let her know what’s happening, but she promised to not put the place I’m renovating for her on the market until after I’m done needing it for the season. There’s a little room I could put a crib in. I’ll get something sturdier than that cot she came with.”
“So that’s good.” Cameron nodded, but her face remained solemn. “But, Brandt, I know exactly how many hours you work. The plus is that you can probably get the baby on your health insurance with a minimum of paperwork, but you’re going to have to be able to show reliable childcare, especially if the custody case runs into snags.”
Yeah. That was a tricky question. He had no idea what daycare even cost, let alone how to go about finding a good one. He’d been in some horrible ones himself. Then there were babysitters and nannies, but how to locate ones who were both decent human beings and affordable? Mary Poppins didn’t exactly make house calls in Central Oregon.
“Let me think—”
“I can help out.” Shane’s voice was resigned but firm, like he’d been thinking on this and finally come to a conclusion he wasn’t sure he liked.
“You?” Brandt raised an eyebrow, trying to give him space to gracefully back out if he was only offering out of obligation.
“Yeah. I’m still the uncle regardless of what that test shows, and I’m the one Shelby left her with. I might not like it, but I feel responsible.”
Ah. Yeah. Obligation was the thing driving him all right. Brandt wasn’t going to hold him to that offer, admirable though it was. “Don’t you need to get back on the road?”
“Nah.” Shane shrugged, but still didn’t seem precisely eager. “Right now, I’m between bookings. I parted ways with the agent I was using to get a lot of gigs, and tracking down opportunities myself has been...challenging. I can take some time to help you. Like I said back at the house, I guess we’re all Jewel has. I can’t walk away from that.”
“Okay. Appreciated.” Eager or not, this might be the best offer Brandt was getting, and he wasn’t dumb enough to turn it down. “That would help a lot while I try and figure out a plan.”
“Yes, you’ll want something more permanent,” Cameron agreed as she looked up from her notes. Permanent. All that coffee sloshing around in Brandt’s stomach turned sour. God. He wasn’t ready to think like that.
“Yeah,” he said faintly, still trying to keep up with how fast his life was changing. “Daycare. Something.”
Frowning, Cameron set her tablet back on the desk. “I’m going to be honest here and take off my attorney hat and talk to you as a wife and mother. Smoke jumping and parenthood is a hard combo.”
“Rich says you’re a saint for putting up with it.” Brandt smiled at her, even as his gut turned more caustic at her words.