The bundle on the bench looked almost unreal. Too small. Too still.
He stepped closer.
The baby’s face was red from cold, her tiny lips trembling. Her fists were clenched weakly against her chest. Frost clung to her eyelashes.
“Jesus Christ…” Rhett breathed.
His gloved hands hovered before finally moving. He pulled the blanket aside just enough to see the note.
“No one’s child.”
Something inside him snapped.
“No,” he said quietly, voice rough. “That’s not how this works.”
He stripped off his jacket and wrapped it around her, lifting her carefully against his chest. She weighed almost nothing. The heat of his body seeped into her frozen skin.
“You’re somebody’s,” he murmured. “You just don’t know it yet.”
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