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With that he turned on his heel and strode out of her house, slamming the front door behind him.
* * *
‘How come you’ve got the headache, Mummy, when I was the one who banged my head?’
Toby finished his cornflakes and watched as his mother swallowed some paracetamol.
‘Headaches don’t always come from the outside, sweetheart,’ she murmured, her dark hair soft and loose around her shoulders. ‘Toast?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. Shaped like a dinosaur.’
‘Please,’ she prompted automatically, reaching for a piece of bread and dropping it into the toaster. ‘You need to have a quiet day today.’
‘Can I watch extra television?’ Toby wandered into the sitting room to fetch a toy and bounced back full of excitement. ‘Mum, Mum! Jed’s coming up the front path. Can I let him in?’
‘No!’ Brooke put out a hand and pushed him gently back onto his chair, her heart thudding. ‘No, darling, you finish your cornflakes. I’ll talk to him.’
Tying the belt of her dressing-gown more firmly round her waist and scooping her long hair over one shoulder she tugged open the door, bracing herself for another argument. He hadn’t been interested in listening to her side of the story yesterday—why should things be different today?
She swallowed as he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes expressionless as he looked down at her. He was wearing the same clothes he’d had on the previous evening so he’d obviously gone straight back to the hospital, and his hard jaw was darkened by stubble. He looked tough, male and very tired.
‘Can I come in?’ His voice was gruff and his gaze, although frosty, had lost that glare of anger.
‘Why?’ She lifted her chin, her attitude defensive. She didn’t care if he was tired. She was tired, too. ‘So that you can yell at me again?’
‘Did I yell?’ He leaned one broad shoulder against her doorframe and his dark brows came together in a frown. ‘I think you’re oversensitive. I may have been angry but I don’t remember raising my voice. And if I did you can hardly blame me. It’s not every day a man finds out he’s—’
‘Jed, no!’ Brooke covered his mouth with her fingertips, using her eyes to indicate that Toby was just behind them.
‘Sorry, didn’t think.’ His breath brushed the tips of her fingers and she jerked them away as if they’d been scalded as her eyes locked with his. Suddenly her tiny hallway was thrumming with tension.
‘What do you want, Jed?’ Her voice cracked and her head throbbed. She wasn’t up to this, not after the night she’d had. He’d said that he needed to make a decision about what to do. Had he made that decision? Had he come to tell her something? Was he going to try and take Toby from her?
‘What do you think? We need to finish our conversation, but clearly this isn’t a good time…’ his eyes flickered over her shoulders to Toby ‘…so I’ll stick to the practical issues instead.’
Brooke stared at him. ‘What practical issues?’
‘You need help,’ he said bluntly, and she straightened her slim shoulders defensively.
‘I don’t need help. Toby and I are doing fine…’
He lifted a dark eyebrow. ‘Brooke, your car is knackered and your roof has a hole in it. I’ll start with the car.’
With that he straightened and walked past her into the kitchen. ‘Hello, sport, how’s the head?’
He winked at Toby and straddled a kitchen chair, ignoring Brooke who was bristling with outrage but unwilling to say too much in front of her child.
‘It hurts a bit but not as much as Mum’s,’ Toby said sagely, and Jed
glanced at Brooke, one dark eyebrow lifting.
‘You have a headache?’
‘I didn’t get much sleep last night,’ she said stiffly, and his gaze was cool.
‘Conscience bothering you? Why don’t you go back to bed for an hour and Toby can give me a hand?’
Toby’s eyes were round. ‘A hand with what?’
