Dalton’s POV
Oh f***k, oh f***k, oh f***k!
I stare at the screaming baby, with no idea what the f***k I’m supposed to do.
The note's still crumpled in my fist, the trembling, looping handwriting swimming in front of my eyes every time I try to focus properly on anything else. Our daughter. Four months old, apparently, though I've never once laid eyes on her before tonight, never had so much as a phone call telling me she existed in the first place.
Carla. I try to place the name, but no face comes to mind, though that could be more due to the fact I’m freaking the f***k out rather than any actual failure of memory.
'Okay,' I mutter to myself, forcing air properly into my lungs. 'Okay, okay, okay.'
The baby . . . Paige, apparently . . . wails louder, small fists waving furiously, fac
