Here’s a snippet of another WIP entitled “Protecting His Son.
He moved closer to the clear container that held a new life. Looking down, the blue tag on the front proclaimed this child to be a boy. He squinted in the dim light to see what was written on the front. Mother’s name: Callina Lansing. Baby: Jonathan.
Jonathan! She had named the baby after him. A huge lump clogged his throat. It was true then. This child was his. He had a son. Damn! He had a son and he wouldn’t be able to get to know him, see him grow, share in his life. The world was damn cruel at times. Now it was even crueler and laughing at him.
He shouldn’t, someone could walk in at any time, but he needed to hold his son. Even if he got only a few seconds, it was vital that he touch the life he and Callie had created. He wanted, no needed, to let his son know how much he loved him. And he did love him. The powerful emotion emanated from his heart even as he gazed down at the tiny figure. How could love grow so fast? He hadn’t known this person even existed until a few hours ago. Now it consumed him.
He reached down a tentative finger to stroke the side of the child’s face. The baby turned his head and his bow-shaped lips opened slightly. Jack’s heart beat faster. He had such soft skin. And he was so tiny. The card read that he was six pounds, five ounces. But then Callie was a tiny thing too.
The protective instincts that had always come into play when he was around Callie suddenly throbbed to life and expanded as he gazed at the sweet face of his son. How could he protect this child in his current situation? He’d bring more danger upon him if he hung around. But how could he just abandon his son and the woman who had brought him into this world? God! Life was so unfair.
Jack finally got the courage to slide his hands under the infant and lift him from his bed. He barely weighed anything. His heart constricted yet again at the contact of this child against his arms. He pulled him closer, placing his lips to the boy’s head. Tears sprang to his eyes at the innocent baby scent wafting into his nostrils. His child’s scent. His reaction was primitive and territorial. This was his son.