“Just take him to the nursery and we’ll be right there, okay? And here, take this.” Jess hands Candace the sopping diaper bag. “Get the baby settled and see if you can salvage what’s in here, please.”

Jess ushers me to her bedroom, strips the dress from my body, and rummages in her closet. “Well, that was interesting.”

I shake my head, bewildered. “It was honestly a mistake. I could have sworn he was drowning. I thought…” Once again, I thought I sensed something that wasn’t there.

“You really need to get some rest, Bec.”

“I know.” My voice sounds defeated, even to my own ears. “How will I go back out there?”

“You’re not.” Jess presses some clothes into my hands. “You’re going to change into these, feed Jackson, take a sleeping pill, and go to bed. No explanations. No apologies. You just need a good night’s sleep. I’ll take care of this.”

“I don’t have sleeping pills.”

“I do. I’ll be right back.”

I slip into her T-shirt and oversized pajama bottoms and wring my dress out in her bathtub. I locate her shower rod, drape the dress over it, then pad down the hall to get my baby. I push open the door and hear a voice singing a nursery rhyme—not Candace. My skin bristles.

“Beth?” I push into the room. Jackson is cuddled in her arms, smashed next to Trevor.

“Sorry. I came up to see if you were okay, and I heard him crying,” she whispers. “Are you alright?”

My body deflates. I consider her question and think about lying, about saying I’m okay, that it was all a mistake. Instead, I shake my head. “No.” I find the rocking chair and sink into it, and Beth kneels beside me. Jackson coos in her arms. I stroke the top of his head and pull him into my lap.

“I can’t believe that just happened.”

“You did what you had to,” Beth says. “Anyone would do the same.”

Someone else hovers in the doorway. “Hey.”

I shift in the chair. “Come in.”

“I’ll let you two talk,” Beth says. “Let me know if you need anything, Bec.” She grabs Jackson’s bare foot and shakes it. The bells tinkle. “And you, little man. Be good for your mom.” Beth eases out the door and makes room for Crystal. The sound of gathered, swirling fabric bunches in Crystal’s fist as she crouches beside me.

“I may be overstepping my bounds here, but I have a therapy session tomorrow. Why don’t you take it? I’ll call Dr. Gibbons and tell her you can take my place. I think it would do you good.” She pats my arm. “To talk to someone. I know it always helps when I go.”

I swipe a hand to clear my tears. “I don’t see you making a public fool out of yourself.”