Miranda.
I haven’t thought of that woman in years, so long in fact that when Josie brought up the name, I assumed it was one of the chicks hanging around the club at the moment. Never in a million years did I think the woman who fucked me over would come back to haunt me.
“Trenton, huh?” I ask the kid standing nervously on the other side of the table. “What’s your last name, Trenton?” I inquire.
“Eriksson.”
The air knocks from my lungs, drawing every molecule from the room and dispersing it elsewhere, because I can’t fucking breathe.
My first name is a coincidence. My last name… is a fucking message.
No wonder my wife’s fucking pissed at me.
I need to fix this, but the only way I can do that is to figure out what the hell Miranda is playing at sending this boy here. It’s got to be money. Why else would she think popping up after fifteen years with this stunt would work?
She left out those doors, knowing damn well what her options were, and she refused to play ball then. But she sure as fuck is going to now.
Thinking she can come in here, disrupt my life, and upset my wife. That woman was a lying snake back then. I doubt much has changed.
“Where’s your mom, kid? No offense, I’m sure you’re great, and my daughter seems to like you, but whatever your mom told you is a lie. Just give me her number, and I can drive you back to wherever it is y’all are staying.”
He shoves his hood back, revealing a headful of shocking white blond hair. His pale features only exacerbate the red tinging his gaunt cheeks.
“You know, she told me you were an asshole. That you didn’t believe her when she told you about me.”
I clear my throat, not interested in walking down memory lane with this kid who only has half the story, and by the sounds of it, it’s not even factual.
“Your mom, where is she?”
“She’s fucking dead, you piece of shit,” he answers cooly before turning on his heels and escaping out the back door, announcing his departure with a resounding crack of the door slamming closed.
“What the hell!?” Josie erupts from around the kitchen corner, stalling when she realizes I’m standing with my dick in my hand all alone. “Where’s Trenton?” She sneers.
I’ve never seen Josie this pissed—well, not at me. She looks ready to burn me at the stake.
“He left.” I shrug, not knowing what more she wants from me.
“Mama, is lunch ready?” Haley’s little voice comes frombeyond, and Josie schools her features, lighting up with the fakest smile across her beautiful face.
“Yeah, baby. Why don’t you take it into your room and turn on a show?”
Haley squeals with excitement, never getting to eat in her room, and runs haphazardly down the hall without a glance backward.
Once we’re alone, Josie hightails it past me, not waiting for me to fill the silence, as she thunders out onto the back porch.
“Trenton!” she calls.
The boy’s gone. If I had to guess, he’s hiking out to the main road heading back toward town.
“We need to talk about this, Josie.”
She whirls on me, a fit of fury ready to be unleashed. “No, what you need to do right now is to go find your son before he ends up doing something stupid like leaving town with nothing to his name.”
“You don’t know that boy’s mine. Why would you take his word for it?”
She balks, looking me up and down. “You’re not that fucking dense. And you sure as fuck aren’t blind. So, get your goddamn head out of your ass and admit to yourself that you fucked up.” She seethes.
The air between us boils with tension. The only sound above her rushed breaths is the chickens’ clueless clucks from around the corner. She’s not wrong, I can see the similarities. The blond hair, his height, even his eyes look like mine, but my brain refuses to acknowledge those things until I know for certain. Because I sure as hell ain’t taking Miranda’s word for it beyond the grave.
