“We have to call 911,” I said, my voice coming out higher than I meant it to.
“I already did,” Jax said. “They’re on their way.”
He pulled the baby further into his jacket, wrapping the leather around them both. Under the jacket he was wearing only a t-shirt. His own lips had started to go slightly blue at the edges, and he was shaking, but his eyes never left the baby.
“I’m keeping him warm until they get here,” he said. Flat. Simple. No drama in it at all. “If I stop, he could die out here.”
I pulled off my scarf and wrapped it around both of them, tucking it over the baby’s bare head and around Jax’s shoulders. Up close I could see how bad it was. The baby’s skin was blotchy and pale in a way that did not look like newborn color. His tiny fists were clenched so tight they looked painful. His cries were getting thinner, more tired, the sound of something running out of the energy it takes to ask for help.
“Hey, little man,” Jax murmured, his thumb moving in slow careful circles on the baby’s back. “You’re okay. We got you. Stay with me, yeah? Hang in there.”
My eyes burned.
“How long have you been here?”
“Like five minutes. Maybe six.” He kept his eyes on the baby. “It felt longer.”
“Did you see anyone? When you found him?”
