MASON.
It was barely morning, and the sharp wail of the baby cut through the air like a damn alarm clock I didn’t set. My eyes cracked open, heavy as lead, and I groaned, dragging myself out of bed.
“f**k,” I muttered in a raspy voice as I head towards the nursery, barely awake.
The closer I got, the louder the cries went. Stumbling into the nursery, I leaned against the doorframe, gazing at the little bundle of noise in the crib.
Her face was flushed, tiny fists flailing in the air as her cries grew louder. Oh, s**t. That didn’t look good. Her cries were piercing, almost like the a war siren in the dead of the night. She was wailing, punching the air and I didn’t know exactly what to do with her.
“f**k,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “How am I supposed to handle this?”
