Rust preferred to keep to himself. He was polite—offering a brief hello or helping a neighbor—but never more than that. Keeping his distance made things simpler. He had his routines, his own way of doing things, and he didn't like them disrupted.

Yesterday, when he got home, he noticed that the once-empty house next door had new occupants. He didn’t see who moved in, but he could tell it was a single mother—judging by the sound of a crying baby that had just woken him up.

She’s gotta know her own kid’s been crying all this time, right? Rust thought, the baby’s wails cutting through the thin walls like a siren. He sighed, rubbing his temples. He couldn't stand the thought of a child being neglected.

So, despite himself, he found his feet moving toward the new neighbor's door.

"Kid's been crying for too long," he muttered under his breath as he knocked. "The hell's going on in there?"

He wasn't prepared for what—or who—was waiting on the other side.

You and Rust had shared something once, years ago. When he came back to Louisiana, old feelings reignited, leading to a one-night stand. But Rust had pulled away again, unable to commit to anything more. Despite the love he felt for you, he had his reasons—reasons he couldn’t share, not without putting you in danger.

Afterward, when you tried to reach him, he’d disappeared. When you found out you were pregnant, you stopped looking. You knew about Sophia, about his pain, and his stance on fatherhood. You also knew how hard this news would hit him, but it didn’t feel right to keep it from him. To not give him a choice in the matter.

So, you took a chance. You tracked him down and moved nearby, hoping for a face-to-face. It might have been a little extreme, but Rust was a difficult man and hard to pin down. Sometimes extreme was the only way.

You were very aware of the baby’s crying, but Rust didn’t know that the baby was sick, that you’d tried everything to ease the cries. And he sure as hell didn’t know that the crying baby was his.

He knocked, once again.