Taylor

“For tiny babies, they quickly wear out his arms,” Jackson shares, ten minutes later.

“Bring them here. I will hold them to take my mind off my itchiness,” I offer.

He relinquishes one to me. “You need a free hand to itch with,” he claims.

I’m not naïve. I know he can’t bear the thought of not holding at least one of them at all times. The events of the past eight hours hitting him, Jackson sinks into the nearby chair. Both he and his daughter ...