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“Maybe he’ll love it. Maybe he wants to be a dad.”
“Maybe.” I need to find out about his scars, on his body and mind. Learn why he left. Understand him. But after leaving him on the bathroom floor like that, will he even want to see me again?
“And then?”
“Oh God.” I sigh. “Enough interrogation and secrets unveiled for one day. Drink your coffee, and let’s have a look at your Spanish lesson. I don’t want to think about the mess that is my life any longer.”
***
Next day I drive home to my parents. I leave Zane with my best wishes for his sister but without a chance to tell him I saw Tyler’s scars and ask what he thinks about them.
I crank the music high—a CD of Rafe’s, punk rock booming through the speakers—and try not to think of Tyler. Not his gorgeous face, or his breathtaking body, his scars, his tats, the pain in his eyes, his refusal to talk and the way he kisses and touches me…
Yeah, so not working.
I lower the volume and focus on the road ahead. The thought of seeing Jax makes me happy. I miss my baby. I don’t see him nearly as much as I want, and I bet he misses me, too, although he’s content living with his grandparents and playing with the neighbors’ kids. Oshkosh is a quiet little town. After Tyler left, we moved there until I had Jax and stayed.
Not that I could hide much. Our neighbors know Jax is mine, but they’ve been amazingly supportive. I think it’s because they like my parents, who are the most open-hearted people in the whole wide world.
And their love… It has always made me look for the same. For someone to cherish me as they do each other.
Tyler, my treacherous mind whispers.
Yeah, that’s what I thought once upon a time. That he was the one for me. Then we fought so bad—and now I realize that was all my fault. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. All those pregnancy hormones wreaking havoc with my brain turned small things into unsurmountable obstacles, and my temper flared.
What if he still is the one? I love him. He’s held my heart since I was twelve. I can’t just give up on him, not now that I’ve finally found him again.
But what about Jax? What about what he deserves?
God.
I drive to the outskirts, through streets lined with tall trees, and park outside the house. It has a chocolate roof and big bay windows. The front lawn is trim and the fence a blinding white.
Something inside me relaxes. I kill the engine and step out, slinging my small duffel bag on my shoulder and walking across the path to the front door.
Then it opens, and a tiny hurricane hurls down the two steps of the porch and launches himself into my arms.
“Jax!” I laugh as I drop my bag and lift him high into the air, then twirl him. “God, you’ve growing bigger every day. Soon I won’t be able to do this anymore.”
Sadness stings my chest at the thought—when did my baby grow so much? His daddy would have been able to throw him up so high and then catch him so easily—and then happiness overtakes me again.
I’m so lucky. So unbelievably lucky to have such a gorgeous, amazing little boy, such great parents… I can’t imagine a life without them.
Tyler rises again in my mind—his violent dad, his dead mom, his scars, his estranged brother, and my breath catches. The thought of him sad, lonely and in pain is making my heart heavy as a stone.
I let Jax drag me by the hand to the house. He’s chattering excitedly about one of his friends, a boy called Tom who lives across the street. I follow, letting his words wash over me, until he stops at the steps and turns toward me, his little face serious.
“Mommy.”
“Yes, Jax. What?”
“Tom’s daddy came back. When is mine coming back?”
Oh God. The blood drains from my face, and I shiver in my jacket. “Let’s get inside, baby,” I breathe. “It’s cold out here.”
Chapter Eleven
Tyler
