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He appeared to contemplate my offer. “Do you haveBomber Crew?”

I scratched my short beard. “Um, I’m not sure. I can check.” I doubted we did, but I made a mental note to get it for him. I’d also buy him his own system, but for now, I’d snag one of the consoles from the dayroom area.

One of the prospects passed by in the hall, and I called out to him, asking him to grab the system.

We had it set up in no time and had Trace happily playing some arcade games.

“Trace, your mom and I need to talk for a minute, but we’ll only be in the room right here, okay?” I said as I pointed into the adjoining room. He nodded without looking my way.

I chuckled at his singular focus on the game. “Typical kid,” I said with a grin. More than anything, I wanted to stay with him. If all I got to do was stare at him as he played video games, I’d be happy. After years of accepting I’d never have children, to find out I had a son was surprisingly… mind-blowing. Amazing.

After reluctantly stepping away from him and ushering Korrie into the next room, I closed the connecting door most of the way. She sat on the bed and her shoulders curled. “Jude,” she began.

“Angel,” I corrected. Her gaze rose, and her brows dropped in confusion. Moving forward, I sat next to her. “Call me Angel. No one calls me Jude anymore.”

Hurt flitted across her face. “Angel, then,” she conceded. “You can’t really believe no one is going to look for Lester. This isn’t over. I’m worried about his safety,” she motioned toward the room Trace was in, “and yours.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve survived worse.” I nudged her with my shoulder and gave her a tip of my lips. Her face flushed beet red.

“Ju—Angel. You have no idea how sorry I am. I swear I had no idea it was you. All I saw was someone who had killed Lester Damon and then turned his gun on me. I thought you were going to kill me. I never thought I’d hit a damn artery—I really thought I’d give you enough of a flesh wound to make you drop your gun or at least buy me time to get out of there.” She covered her face with both hands, then looked over at me. Tears glistened in her eyes.

Without a thought to the consequences, I reached out to cup the back of her neck and pulled her close. Our noses were touching, and her breath feathered over my lips.

“I know. No one blames you.” She bit the corner of her lip, and I groaned. Stealing a moment, I brushed my lips over hers, giving a nip to her lips until she opened to me. Her fingers dug into my shoulders as she leaned in and gave as good as she got. Like they did every time, the years fell away and we were in the treehouse learning about love.

“Mom?” The small voice had us jerking apart and turning guiltily toward our child. For me it wasn’t because I was ashamed of wanting her, but that I wanted to be able to sit down and talk to him about us. Not have him catch me groping his mom.

“Trace!” She jumped up and gave me a worried glance. I simply waited to see what she was going to say. Because now that he’d seen us like that, I wasn’t planning on hiding how I felt about her.

What I’d been denying to myself for years was screaming in my head. Insane though it might be, I still loved her.

“I’m hungry.”

I stood up and waited by the door for him to follow. “Come on, let’s go see what’s in the kitchen.”

“Okay, Dad,” he said as he passed under my arm where I held the door open.

My heart imploded as I wondered if he’d actually heard us talking at some point. I was wracking my brain trying to figure out when he might’ve heard.

“Trace, why would you say that?” Korrie questioned.

“Grandma told me.”

“FallenAngel”—ThreeDaysGrace

My steps faltered as my son’s words hit me.

“What did you say, Trace?” Stunned, I asked his retreating back.

He stopped and turned to look at me with his head cocked. His hair fell over his forehead like his father’s had. “What?” he innocently asked with his little brows furrowed.

“You said Grandma told you Angel was your father? When?” My mother hardly ever spoke to him.

“Oh. When she told me bedtime stories,” he said like it was no big deal and like it was true.

“Grandma has never told you a bedtime story in your life,” I blurted out without thinking.

He looked at me like I was the one who’d lost my mind. Then he looked up at Jude—Angel—who stood waiting on him.

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