11
JAXON
I've been parked in front of the Carolina Crumb for the past thirty minutes waiting. I'd have been here yesterday if Dad hadn't had me on a job out of town, but today I got up early to be here just for this. I'll be late to work again, but I don't care. It's eating at me that Emily has a kid and hasn't told me. Call me obsessive, but I need to know if that kid is mine.
The front of the bakery is dark, but I can see through the little window into the kitchen that there are people in there. I haven't knocked on the door yet because I don't want a confrontation with one of her staff. I want Emily directly so I don't get the brush off. She's been in there since before I got here, and my guess is she's got her little girl with her.
The coffee I made at home is bitter and cold, not at all the delicious brew I'd have gotten at the bakery or that coffee shop down the boardwalk. But I keep sucking it down to keep myself awake after two nights of tossing and turning in my bed. Dad kicked me out of the living room, and besides, with so much on my mind, how could I sleep?
I've done the math a hundred times and it comes out the same way every time I do it. Emily either cheated on me or that little girl is mine. We spent that whole weekend before I took off for basic training together and we never used protection once. It was three nights of Boone's Strawberry Hill, lame country music, and reckless promises we made that we never kept—well, I never kept.
My head rests against the headrest as I feel the tug of exhaustion. But anger and anxiety won’t let me nod off, not when I'm this close to confronting her about it all.
I can't believe how much it hurts just suspecting her of this. I don't have any facts and I can't say for sure that she's lied to me, but it sure as hell feels like it. When I think about how many times I missed her out on deployment while she was here pregnant and hiding a secret, I get so mad. I had to physically kill people and that fucks a guy up. I carry demons from my years overseas she'll never begin to understand.
Then I come home and she's got a kid—and she never told my Pop anything at all about it. Which only hurts more. Sure, I never called home to talk to her, but what's worse? A man who doesn't call home or a woman who lies about his kid?
I run my hand through my hair and stare at the horizon where the first fingers of light are creeping up over the ocean in the distance. I don't want to be mad at her. I'm sure if she did hide the kid, she has her reasons, but honestly, I had my reasons for not coming home or calling. Just thinking about the horrors I've seen threatens to send me into a mental spiral I can't afford today. I can't even talk about that shit without spinning out. How fair is it of her to be so pissed at me when she's hiding a secret too?
The clock keeps ticking, time draining out as my coffee goes cold and my patience wears thin. And finally, just before eight, the door of the bakery opens and the most amazing little girl with beautiful dark hair and wide, dark eyes bounces out. She's grinning, spinning around to grab Emily's hand as she jabbers happily about something.
I get out of the truck, closing the door quietly, and cross the street. No one sees me coming, and I don't have any intention of scaring the little one, but Emily is another thing entirely. I might lose my temper over this one, and there's no one here to rein me in.
She looks like me. The nose, the shape of her face, the brow line. I've seen that face in the mirror my entire life, and now I'm seeing it on a seven-year-old girl holding Emily Carter's hand. It's gut-wrenching, and it's all the proof I need to confirm my deepest fear this morning. I have to stop walking for a second and put my hand on the back of a bench to steady myself. My legs don't feel right. Nothing feels right.
Emily spots me before I reach them. She's about ten feet ahead and she looks up and her whole posture changes. Her shoulders go rigid, her grip tightens on the girl's hand, and her face drains of color so fast, I think she might pass out. She knows exactly why I'm here, and the scowl on my face makes her expression twist into fear and apprehension.
"Emily, I need to talk to you." Though I don’t want to intimidate the little girl, I don’t care a lick if I intimidate her mother.
"Not right now, Jaxon." Her voice is steady but her eyes are wild. She pulls the girl closer to her side, almost behind her, and keeps walking toward the corner. The girl swats at her and triesto wriggle away, glancing up at me cautiously. Her dark eyes are filled with curiosity, not fright.
"Emily, please. I just need?—"
"Not. Right. Now." She says it through her teeth without looking at me, and the girl peers around Emily's hip, staring up at me with wide grey eyes, the exact shade I see in my own reflection every morning.
My throat closes up and I stop walking. The girl is looking right at me, curious, unafraid, and I'm looking right back at her trying to keep my face neutral while everything inside me is coming apart. Alarm bells go off in my head, and red flags wave like Fourth of July banners, screaming how wrong this is, how angry I should be.
"Mommy, who is that?" the girl asks, tugging on Emily's hand.
Emily crouches down in front of her, blocking me out, and puts both hands on the girl's shoulders. "He's just an old friend of Mommy's, baby. It's okay."
"What's his name?" She leans sideways, half-smiling at me as she listens to her mother. I cover my mouth with my hand and fight back the urge to cry. She's so beautiful, so bright and curious. She's mine—I just know it. And Emily has been lying.
"His name is Jaxon. He's someone Mommy knew a long time ago." Emily smooths the girl's hair and adjusts her backpack strap, keeping herself between us. "The bus is going to be here any second. Are you ready?"
"I'm ready." The girl peeks around Emily's shoulder at me one more time, then grins. "Hi, Jaxon." Her hand rises and her fingers wiggle, and I see she's missing a tooth.
Every muscle in my body locks up but my heart is there, pounding hard, desperate to do anything to know more about what's going on. "Hi there," I squawk like an angry bird and then clear my throat.
"Mercy, look, the bus is coming." Emily straightens, pointing down the road, and when Mercy turns toward the bus, Emily shoots me a glare.
"Do I go to Savannah's today?" Mercy asks, turning back to her mother, but I see the silly grin she has as she sneaks a peak at me again. The sad part is that I want to smile back, but my gut is roiling, threatening to boil over any second.
Then the bus pulls up as Emily is responding, masking her response, and she pecks Mercy on the head. Mercy turns and hops up the bus steps, and I wait until the door is closed and the thing is moving away before I speak.
"Is she mine?"
Emily turns around slowly. Her face is pale, her jaw tight, and her arms are crossed over her chest. "You need to calm down." But if I'm not mistaken, that's dread in her eyes. And her face has gone as white as a sheet. She's hiding something.
