Page 111 of Lost Trust

I study her for a second.

Then the question I’ve been carrying around since she came back into my orbit slips out before I can talk myself out of it. “What exactly happened between you and Blaze?”

Her gaze drops.

I know he left. I know he’s a total slimeball.

But for some reason, I want the details.

And now that I have her here—alone with me in the cab of my truck, the world outside reduced to the quiet hum of the engine—the moment feels intimate somehow. Like maybe she might actually open up.

She sits beside me with one leg tucked underneath her, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the windshield. “I guess I just stopped being the person he wanted.”

Something in my chest tightens.

“What?”

She gives me a small, humorless smile. “After Ryder was born”—her fingers pick at the frayed edge of her shorts—“he didn’t see me anymore. It was like Marina no longer existed and I was just somebody’s mom.”

I stare at her. “Are you fucking serious?”

She nods.

I actually laugh because that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. “That’s a load of horseshit.”

Her eyes flick toward mine. “It’s true. He used to tell me how sexy I was. How he loved watching me ride. I was this badass rodeo queen he found superhot.”

“And then you had his kid, and suddenly, you stopped being those things?” I ask incredulously.

She shrugs, but I can see the hurt underneath it.

“I guess so. In his eyes.”

Geezus.

I look at her, trying to wrap my head around it. I remember her from five years ago. Hell, I remember her from today. Sexy doesn’t even begin to cover it.

But it’s not just that.

Marina’s funny. Sharp. Talented. She has this easy confidence that draws people toward her, even when she doesn’t seem to realize she’s doing it.

And every time I’ve seen her with Ryder, I’ve watched her light up around that little boy. She’s a good momma. A damn good one. I can’t understand how any man could look at her and not see how fucking special she is.

Especially the man who got lucky enough to have her carry his child.

She exhales and draws her knees up, resting her chin on them before turning her face toward me. “Just somebody’s mom,” she murmurs.

I shake my head. “No.”

Her brows pull together. “No?”

“You’re the mother of his child.”

She watches me.

“You grew a piece of him inside your body, for fuck’s sake.”

Her eyes soften.