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Her heart beat so loudly she couldn’t believe it didn’t awaken her precious child.
Tonight she’d tell Justice’s father that he had a son.
* * *
Ross stood in the doorway of the little boy’s bedroom, watching as Brielle went through the ritual of getting her son back to sleep. The soft, soothing tone of her voice as she told Justice a story about saying goodnight to the moon did little to ease the very real agitation moving through him.
Agitation he didn’t understand.
Not at first.
But as he watched the motion of her hands moving gently back and forth across the sleeping boy’s back, the unease that had gripped him from the moment he’d realized she had a child began to make perfect sense.
“He’s mine.”
Brielle’s head shot up at his low words, staring at him across the dimly lit room.
Despite the truth written all over her guilty face, he needed to hear her say the words.
“He is my son, isn’t he?”
Her hand stilled, flattened against the sleeping boy’s back almost protectively. “I...” She stopped then stood slowly, taking care not to disturb Justice. “Let’s go talk.”
She wasn’t denying it.
Brielle wasn’t telling him that he was crazy, that he’d lost his mind.
She wasn’t telling him that she’d met someone, gotten pregnant on the rebound, and had had that man’s child.
She’d been pregnant when he’d left for Boston.
She’d given birth to his son and had never bothered to tell him.
As she walked past him to head back into the living room, he wanted to grab her shoulders, shake her, demand to know why she hadn’t told him, why she would have done something so cruel. Had she hated him so much when he’d left?
She didn’t look at him, just waited for him to move out of the doorway then gently pushed the door closed.
Without a word, she turned to go to the living room. He supposed it made sense to move away from the boy’s room so they didn’t wake him again, but he couldn’t wait another second.
“Say the words, Brielle. Tell me what we both know is the truth.” He spat out the demand, knowing in his soul what was coming, what seemed impossible yet blared through his being as the truth.
The truth that it seemed imperative to have confirmed verbally.
“Justice is your son.” Her tone was deadpan, as if her words didn’t have the effect of a tornado ripping through his mind and chest, leaving everything within him in turmoil.
She stood there, not looking at him, hands at her sides, body slightly trembling, and waited.
Ross was waiting himself.
Waiting for an explanation of why she hadn’t told him about his child.
CHAPTER SIX
BRIELLE’S ENTIRE INSIDES shook. Her tongue swelled to where it stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her brain spun like a child’s toy top. She felt so dizzy she thought she might fall. Her head pounded as if her eardrums had taken up a jungle beat. But she stood firm, not looking at Ross but waiting for a reaction from him.
She half expected him to turn, leave her house, and never darken her doorstep again.
Another part of her expected him to rush into Justice’s room, wake him up and tell him he was his daddy.
