His words fell on deaf ears—as if he’d honestly believed that Emmersyn would miraculously speak to him with the million-dollar answer to making her stop crying. He’d tried everything he could think of, including singing that stupid song that Paisley had sang to her before.
When nothing appeared to be working, he pulled his phone from his pocket. He was about dial Paisley’s number, but then he stopped. This is your problem, not hers.
Unsure of what to do and certain that he couldn’t take it any longer, he placed his screaming child in her swing. He made sure it had begun to rock her before he turned and exited her room.
When he was safely outside her door, he vocalized his frustration.
“FUUUUUUCCCCCKKKK!” he roared, before giving in to his insecurities. “I can’t take this; I’m not ready to be a single dad if this is what parenting is going to be like.” His fist connected with the wall, punching a hole in the plaster. He quickly regretted his actions, but the damage was already done. And he wanted to kick himself because he’d just added another task to his to-do list he didn’t have time to fix.
Emmersyn’s screams were getting louder and louder, and the only thing he contemplated was running as far away from the sound as he possibly could. But he knew leaving his home was not an option, so he did the next best thing; he ran to his room and slammed the door behind him in an attempt to muffle the sounds of her crying. Desperate to tune out the noise, he turned on his radio and twisted the volume to ten. But nothing worked and the cries seemed to have gotten louder, giving his music a run for its money.
Braxton started pacing, back and forth in front of the foot of his bed while thinking to himself. Make it stop. Please. Dear God, make it stop.
Braxton felt useless, and the questioning of whether or not he had what it took to be a single dad began all over again. Every time he asked himself the question, his instinct told him no. Maybe he should consider giving Emmersyn up for adoption. But then, the thought of doing that killed him; he could never walk away from her. She was his flesh and blood. He and Alissa had created this little human, and she’d have never forgiven him for doing so.
Braxton’s phone vibrated in his pocket. When he pulled it from his jeans, the caller ID read Paisley. He swiped to the right but did not get a chance to speak before her voice bellowed from the phone.
“What the hell, Brax?” Paisley’s voice cracked as she spoke. “I can hear Emmy crying. Is everything okay?”
“No, nothing is okay, Paisley. Emmy has been crying for over an hour now. I’ve tried everything, and I’m on my last nerve. I don’t know what to do.”
Paisley was silent for a few seconds and the crying got louder and louder. “Open the damn door. Paxton and I are here and we’ve been knocking for ten minutes.”
Braxton felt like--maybe, for the first time in days, he wasn’t alone. If Emmy didn’t stop crying, at least, he had someone there to help him. Even though it was just for moral support to help him keep his sanity.
Without hesitation, he pulled his bedroom door open and was instantly blasted with how loud his little girl’s crying was. He unlocked the front door and the second Paisley saw him. She forced her way in and rushed past him, heading for Emmy’s room.
Both Braxton and Paxton stared at each other, neither with a clue of what to do.
“Auntie Paisley is here.” Paxton calmly mocked his friend. “She’ll know what to do.
Paisley entered the room, rocking Emmy as she walked. “Car keys—now,” she barked the order at Braxton.
Braxton rushed to the kitchen counter and retrieved his keys. “Got them.”
Paisley looked at her brother, who immediately held both of his hands in front of him. “You go ahead without me. If the three and a half of us get in that car together, only one of us will be exiting alive. And I assure you, it will be me.”
Paisley’s eyes drew tightly together. She was obviously less than pleased with her brother, “Fine then. You have dinner here for us when we return.”
Braxton sat in his car at the end of the sidewalk watching Paisley walking towards him with Emmy in her carrier, he quickly exited and pulled open the passenger-side door. Paisley snapped Emmy's carrier into the base that was already strapped in.
When the door closed, Braxton looked at Paisley, one eyebrow raised and his lips twisted as if he was perplexed “You want to slap me don’t you?”
“Yes, but I understand you’re frustrated and feeling like a failure but you handled the situation all wrong.”
“I’m sorry Paisley, really I am.”
“Don’t apologize, just turn the key and put your foot on the gas and go.”
Without a destination in mind, Braxton drove mindlessly all over town for thirty minutes. He was sure they had passed the same IHOP twenty minutes ago, but he couldn’t be positive. He’d been moving on autopilot, turning left and right without knowing where he was going. He was just doing as he had been told.
Emmy’s cries had begun to soften some two left turns ago, and as he took a right turn, she had fallen asleep.
“Holy shit, P. She’s asleep. How did you know this would work?”
Paisley glanced over at Braxton, the smile on her face matching the gleam in her eyes. “I’d like to say I’m the Yoda of crying babies, but that would be a lie. I’ve heard friends talk about doing it with their kids.”
Regardless of whose idea it was, Braxton was overly excited that it had worked. “That’s twice you’ve saved me, butterfly. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Paisley felt a little flutter of hope deep
