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I breathed a soft laugh.
“I’d say that’s a safe bet.”
“Yeah. Abby Sanford likes to keep life neat and tidy that way, right?”
At the sound of that name, my hand slipped and my knuckles scraped against metal, taking a layer of skin with it.
“Fuck,” I hissed, clutching my raw knuckles.
My gaze flicked to Cam, bewildered. She stared back at me, her hazel eyes solemn and steady.
Abby Sanford.
I did a frantic calculation in my head, running the numbers.
Five…ten…no, it had to be sixteen years ago now. One night with a woman that turned my world upside down. One night that was supposed to be nothing more than some frantic, wild sex. Instead, with the feel of her skin beneath my hands, I’d dreamed of forever with Abby. Building a home together, starting a family. I’d never imagined that with anyone else.
Only her.
Then it fell apart when Abby disappeared. I never heard from her again. She blocked my calls, refused to answer my texts. She was simply…gone.
“You remember her,” Cam whispered, crouched on the pavement next to my bike as she squinted up at me.
Somewhere just outside the grasp of my consciousness, the truth hovered. My brain was still slotting the puzzle pieces together, trying to catch up. My throat went dry. I’d draped my rag over the seat of my Harley and I grabbed it now, pressing it against my bloody knuckles.
Cam rose to her feet, shifting in place. She looked torn—like part of her wanted to bolt, and the other part of her wanted to stay rooted to the spot. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out a well-worn square of paper, stained and curling at the edges. She fiddled with it for a moment, as if weighing the decision whether or not she wanted to bring it into play.
“You’re a hard man to find, you know that? Especially from an old Polaroid.”
Cam passed me the square of paper—a photo that brought a flood of memories washing over me.
I was twenty-one with a single, meager tattoo on my left shoulder. All I wore was a plain denim button-down shirt. I wouldn’t earn my Alpha Rider kut with its howling wolf patch for another two or three years after that picture had been taken.
Abby was eighteen with that cascade of long, silky caramel-colored hair spilling down her back to her waist. She had her eyes closed as she faced the camera, a contented smile on her face like a dozing cat asleep in the warmth of sunlight. I sat beside her, my arm around her shoulders as I pressed a kiss to her temple. Our fingers were laced together, my thumb anchored across her knuckles.
I couldn’t remember who had taken the picture at the overcrowded bar that night. Before we slept together. I’d never felt a connection so strong or so instantaneous with anyone else before.We were so young, I thought with a pang.
Did we ever have a chance of making it work? Or was I the foolish one for thinking a one-night-stand meant anything more than getting each other off?
I passed the photo back to Cam, fighting the tremble in my fingers. Judging by the ache in my chest, the feelings I’d had for Abby sixteen years ago were still alive and well.
It was obvious when I looked in Cam’s face now. She was the spitting image of her mother with those watchful, intelligent hazel eyes. We shared the same wiry, unruly dark hair, though I kept mine short because I couldn’t be bothered with it. The way she stood—shifted back on her heels as if pulling away from the world, mistrustful and wary—looked so much like me that I could barely breathe.
“That’s…” I broke off, my voice catching in my throat. “That’s why you’re here.”
I couldn’t believe it, let alone bring myself to say it. Abby had a daughter—a teenage daughter. Probably about sixteen years old…
Cam nodded once.
“Yeah. That’s why I’m here.”
A heartbeat of stillness settled over us, the unspoken truth lingering like a thundercloud about to break. Finally, Cam punctured the balloon of silence.
“You’re my dad.”
Chapter Two
Abby
