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The door opened a few moments later. The blonde woman behind it had wide, fearful eyes, and a smattering of freckles covering almost her entire face.
Immediately, my stomach twisted.
“You’re not Melony.”
“N-no.” She took a step backward. “Melony’s not here right now.” She glanced between us quickly. Her eyes narrowed hatefully as they lingered on me. “I think you need to leave.”
She tried to shut the door in our faces, but Denny stopped her.
“Hey. Slow down, there. We’re not looking for trouble. Just answers,” he said, his voice the epitome of calm. “You mind telling us who you are, hon?”
“I’m… I’m n-nobody,” she stammered.
“Nobody got a name?” I growled.
She tried to shut the door again, putting all her weight behind it. Denny held firm.
Her face fell in horror as she realized she wouldn’t be able to send us away.
“Please. I’m… I’m Sarah. All right? I don’t know any Melony, and I don’t know you.” The look she gave me was pointed and full of venom. A strange way to look at someone you didn’t know, though by all accounts, I had no idea how she would have known me.
I’d never seen this woman before in my life.
“Thought you said Melony wasn’t here right now,” I said.
“I—I misspoke. I don’t know anything. So please, if you don’t want any trouble, leave. Before I…” She furrowed her brow with a second wind of courage. She raised her voice to a shout. “Before I call the cops on you both! Don’t think that I won’t!”
“Now, there’s no need—” Denny began, but then a high, abrupt wail burst from within the house.
I would’ve known that sound anywhere. The moment I heard it, I saw red.
“Move,” I growled, pushing forward. With a hand on her shoulder, I shoved her out of my way. She hit the wall left of the doorway hard as I marched in past her.
That cry. It belonged to one of my sons.
“Xander! Damn it, don’t—” Denny called after me. I didn’t listen. Anything he said after that, I didn’t hear.
I stormed into the house with tunnel vision. The walls could have been painted bright red with yellow polka dots. Cowboys could’ve been pole dancing in the living room while live gators boxed in the kitchen for all I knew.
My entire focus was on that baby crying, and the familiar scent in the air once I was inside.
Rylan. Ryder. My sons were here.
Whoever this woman was, she had my kids.
“Stop! Please. Please, no.” Sarah followed me in and threw herself at me, clutching desperately at my elbow. “Grayson—I just got him down. Take whatever you want from me, but please don’t hurt him!”
“Grayson?” I glanced down at her without stopping. Her eyes were full of tears.
“He’s innocent,” she sobbed. “If you ever loved Melony, please—”
I broke her grip on my elbow and pushed her back again.
Grayson. She’d renamed one of my kids.
I’d never hated a name more.
Behind me, more shouting. Some of it was Denny. Some, Sarah. I didn’t listen to either. Down the hall, I followed the baby’s cries to an open door.
