“I’m sure you will this morning. Give him time to adjust.”
“Maybe I’d just as soon he didn’t call back. Maybe it’s better that way. The kids can continue to believe Mark is their bio father. I won’t have to worry about Easton wanting custody down the road or interfering with my parenting…”
“Take it from someone who’s been down that road and has deep regrets. Even if Easton doesn’t want a relationship with his children, you can’t keep this secret from them like I did from Mark. They have a right to know when they’re old enough.”
“Even if he doesn’t care?”
“Absolutely. For all the reasons we did those DNA tests. People need to know where they came from and about their genetics. It’s important.”
More so to her than to me, but I couldn’t discount my children might also want to know and had that right. “I guess I’ll fly home and wait to hear from him.”
“Stay a few more days. Give him a little time.”
That was the last thing I wanted to do. I preferred slinking off in the inky black Seattle night with the hope he’d forget all about me as he had the last seven years. And to think I’d once believed I loved him.
Even worse, seeing him again had dredged up feelings best buried. Easton and I still had chemistry, but he’d broken my heart once, and he wouldn’t get a second chance, even if he wanted one—which I was damn sure he didn’t.
Fran and I spoke for a few more minutes about the kids and ended the call. I placed the phone on the nightstand and leaned back against the bed. I closed my eyes, but all I saw was the shock on Easton’s face when I told him he was a father.
My cell chirped, signaling a text message.
With shaking hands, I picked up my cell phone. Only a few people had my new number, and Easton was one of those few.
Meet me at Lake Union Park at eight a.m. near the Seattle ferry dock.
My throat was dry, and I swallowed hard. With trembling fingers, I texted him back.
OK.
That was it. He didn’t respond. I stared at the phone as if the device held all the answers.
~~Easton~~
I arrived a half hour early at the park. I sat down at a picnic table and immediately regretted it. My efforts to look casual were now thwarted by a wet ass from a soaked picnic bench thanks to a recent shower. With a sigh, I ignored the big spot on the back of my jeans and stayed seated. The last thing I wanted was for Caro to pick up on how anxious I was.
I wiped my palms on my thighs and took a gulp from the water bottle I’d brought along. I wished I’d brought a flask of whiskey, but it was too early to drink, even for me.
I had a child, and I was both dying and dreading to learn the details.
A car pulled into the parking lot several yards away. It was a nondescript silver sedan, a typical rental car. Through the tinted glass, Caro’s face was barely visible. She hadn’t seen me yet. She gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead for several seconds. I half expected her to start the engine and back out of the spot, but she didn’t. The Caro I remembered had more guts than that.
The car door opened, and I held my breath.
She emerged from the car like a mermaid from the depths of the sea. I’d been stunned by her beauty the first time I’d seen her at the skating facility handing out rental skates in the office. Despite the fact that I’d owned an expensive pair of hockey skates, I approached her under the guise that I wanted to rent skates. The second I looked into her deep blue eyes, I was drawn to her like a magnet to metal. I wanted her, and when I wanted something, I went after it.
She glanced quickly away from me and rummaged through the skates, looking for my size.
“I don’t see your size here.” She was all businesslike as she returned to the counter. “You have large feet, and we don’t get much call for your size in rental skates.”
I grinned and pounced. “You do know what big feet are an indication of?”
She blushed but had the guts to look me directly in the eyes. “I do, but I haven’t seen that theory proven yet.” She purposely looked me up and down, pausing briefly at the ever-growing bulge in my crotch.
“I’d be glad to prove it. What time do you get off work?”
“Nine, but you’re going to have to work a lot harder than unproven claims regarding big feet to get a date with me.”
“Who said I was asking you on a date?” I moved in close to her, leaning across the counter until our lips were inches apart. She didn’t shy away but held her ground and licked those luscious red lips. The girl was toying with me, which drove my teenage hormones into overdrive.
“I do, Mr. Bigfeet.” She batted her eyelashes in mock innocence, and I laughed heartily.
“Caro, get back to work!” shouted a woman who’d just walked into the office.
Caro jumped backward as did I, both looking guilty as charged. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
I shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, not wanting to leave, but under the intense scrutiny of Caro’s tight-ass boss. “I, uh, okay.” I backed away from the counter.
“See you at nine.” Caro winked at me.
I broke into a grin and backed into a rack of skate repair and maintenance items. I grabbed for the wire rack, managing to hold it upright. Turning, I ran for the safety of the door with Caro’s soft giggle following me.
After that evening, we were together every chance we got. I didn’t score that night, and she did make me work for it, but the wait had been more than worth it.
And now this object of my teenage fantasies come reality stood before me. No longer a girl but a woman and a mother and most likely a wife. Despite the situation, my body knew what it wanted, but my body wasn’t always a good judge of what was best for me.
I was on guard, as my emotions warred with each other. Anticipation. Resentment. Betrayal. Anger. Hope. Revenge. All of it. Caro had some explaining to do.
She stopped in front of her car and glanced around. When she spotted me, she squared her shoulders and advanced, like a brave warrior marching into battle.
I wouldn’t make this easy on her. She’d done the unthinkable in my book. She’d kept my child a secret from me. A guy didn’t forget or forgive such a betrayal easily.
“Easton.” Her voice was calm and cool, as if our meeting were nothing more than a minor business transaction. I steeled myself against the conflict raging inside me and presented my best poker face, the very one I used when the veterans were giving me shit on and off the ice.
“Caro.” I was relieved my own voice was as cool and unemotional as hers.
She started to sit across from me, and I whipped off my coat. “It’s wet. Sit on this.”
She hesitated, caught off guard by my chivalry, then reached for the coat. For the briefest of moments our fingers touched. Old feelings and memories slammed into me with the force of a head-on collision. And for me, that collision was a near fatality.
I remembered too much. The feel of her soft skin sliding across mine. The little moans she made when I pushed inside her. The way she looked at me as if I were the only man on earth.
Oh, God. Fuck. Damn it to hell.
She was not that girl anymore, and I wasn’t that boy. Nothing would ever be the same between us. We’d had puppy love. My memories were clouded by a false perception. The dream was likely far better than the reality.
Unfortunately, that reality looked pretty damn fucking good to me.
But I was wrong. She was deceptive, a schemer. She wanted something from me, but I wanted something in exchange. I had to keep my end goal in mind.
She sat opposite me and stared at her hands clasped in front of her on the table. I waited for her to speak, not giving her the benefit of breaking the ice first.
“Easton,” she croaked and cleared her throat. She swallowed, still staring downward, not meeting my gaze. She was nervous. I saw the slight tremor in her hands. Her composure had been an act. Only a bastard would enjoy her discomfort, a
nd I guess at this point in time, I was a bastard.
“I have— You have twins. A boy and a girl.”
My smug smile fell off my face, and I shed my composure faster than a stripper sheds her clothes. “How do you know they’re mine?” I heard my husky, tense voice and hardly recognized it.
“DNA.” She didn’t explain further, and I didn’t ask, but there was a question of how she would’ve gotten my DNA to test.
“I’ll want to do my own test.”
“We can do that.”
“Why are you coming to me now? Why tell me at all since you obviously planned on keeping their father a secret from them indefinitely?”
She cringed and met my angry gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know?” My voice rose until I was almost shouting. My patience had developed a short fuse around her. A couple walking a dog stared in our direction and slowed their pace. I lowered my voice, not wanting to alarm them enough they intervened or called the police. “How could you not know?”
“It’s complicated.” She wrung her hands over and over. “When you left me, I didn’t know I was pregnant. My former boyfriend was there to pick up the pieces, and I slept with him, trying to ease the pain. I assumed they were his. When I found out I was pregnant, he insisted on marrying me.”
“I see.” I didn’t see. Regardless, some other man had raised my children as his. They had to be six years old by my calculations.
“I’m sorry. I would’ve told you sooner if I’d known.”
“You’re sorry? That’s all you can say is you’re sorry? You don’t think a father has the right to know his children? You don’t think I have a say in their lives? Fuck you.” Anger rolled through me, blotting out the pain and giving me strength to get through this. I embraced my fury, wallowing in it, welcoming the way it wiped out all rational thinking. I didn’t want to be rational right now. I wanted to shout about the injustice. I wanted to blame her, make her feel the guilt of denying me the right to what was mine. My children. Two of them. My blood. A boy and a girl.
She stood. “I understand why you’re upset, but getting mad at me isn’t going to fix the situation. You have my number. I’ll be in town for a few more days. Call me when you’re ready to talk.”
“I’m ready now.” I stood, too, and stalked after her as she walked purposefully to her car. “We’re not done yet,” I growled, knowing I sounded threatening but not caring.
“Miss? Are you okay?” The older couple walking the dog had circled back around and stood near her car.
“I’m fine. Thank you.” She offered them a sweet smile. I stopped in my tracks as they stepped in front of me, preventing me from following her.
“I’m so sorry.” Tears flowed down Caro’s face. Her eyes pleaded with me to forgive her. My feet were anchored to the sidewalk. Before I regained my composure, she got in her car and tore out of the parking lot.
This was the second time she’d run out on me.
Chapter 8—Tattered Courage
~~Caroline~~
I was shaking so badly I could barely drive. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I didn’t see any cars behind me. I pulled down a side street and into an alley. After shutting off the car, I lay my head on the steering wheel and gulped in great lungfuls of air.
I had to stay strong. I had to get ahold of myself.
I didn’t know what kind of reception I’d expected from Easton, but I’d hoped for a better one than what I’d gotten. He was justifiably angry, and he’d gotten angrier and angrier, much like his daughter had a tendency to do.
His daughter.
Oh, my God. What had I done?
Heaven help me. I deserved to rot in hell. Or worse, I deserved whatever the future might bring. Why hadn’t I done the math all those years ago and realized the twins could be his? We’d always been so careful, and I was on the pill. It’d never occurred to me they were anything other than Mark’s kids. That sounded ignorant of me, and I understood why Easton thought I was full of shit.
I’d deluded myself into believing he wouldn’t want to be a father any more than he’d wanted to be with me once that summer had ended.
I’d seen it in his eyes. He wasn’t going to walk away. He wasn’t going to be an uninvolved father. No one could be that angry if they didn’t want a relationship with their children.
He wanted to know his kids.
I’d opened Pandora’s box.
I’d let this man back into my life and into my kids’ lives.
I was the worst kind of fool to think he meant nothing to me. He did, he always had, and he always would. One look at him, and I was ready to fall into bed with him. Even worse, fall for him.
How would the kids react when they found out they had another father? It didn’t matter that I hadn’t known until recently, they’d blame me, because they were angry at the world for taking Mark from them.
I deserved their anger. I deserved Easton’s anger.
How had I not figured this out sooner?
I was a horrible person, and soon everyone would know it.
Wiping my face on my sleeve, I called Fran.
“How did it go?” she asked before even saying hello.
“He hates me. He’s livid.” I’d thought I was done crying, but I wasn’t. The sobs came unbidden from somewhere so deep inside me they were physically painful.
“He’ll calm down. This has to come as a shock to him.”
“He was so angry, a concerned couple intervened. I got the hell out of there.”
“You ran away from him again?” I heard the chastising tone in Fran’s voice.
“Yes,” I sniffled. I was such a sniveling idiot.
“You have to stop doing that. Running isn’t getting you anywhere. It’s only prolonging the agony. Rip off the bandage and get on with it.”
“I think he’s going to want a relationship with the kids.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“It could be. How are they going to feel about this? About me?”
“They’ll be angry, but they already are angry. You’ll get beyond this and be stronger for it.”
I fished a tissue from my purse and blew my nose in a very unladylike way. I sounded like the Canadian geese that hung around by the lake back home every night.
“How long ago did you leave him?”
“Several minutes.”
“Go back there. Now.”
I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. “Not yet. He needs time to cool off.”
“Perhaps, but you need to finish what you started instead of scampering away like a scared rabbit.”
“I know,” I admitted with resignation. “Just not now.”
“Then when? Do you really think he won’t get angry again tomorrow or next week or next month? Tell him everything, then he can get angry and get over it one final time, but doling it out a little at a time isn’t doing either of you any favors.”
Fran was right, of course.
“Okay, wish me luck.”
“Good luck, honey. Everything will be fine. You must have faith.”
I gathered my tattered courage, started the car, and backed carefully out of the alley.
~~Easton~~
I didn’t need this shit. She’d run out on me again.
What the fuck?
Instead of leaving, I walked along the shoreline in an attempt to get my head on straight and calm myself down. If I drove home now, I’d have a major case of road rage, and I wouldn’t unleash that anger on anyone.
And I was angry, but I worked to rein in my previously nonexistent temper.
The couple who’d intervened had left finally after sticking around long enough to make sure I didn’t follow Caro.
I was the guy who never showed anger, but this situation went beyond what I seemed able to control, yet control it I must. I had so many questions, and she was the only one with the answers. I was ashamed of losing it, but I doubted anyone would be much bett
er under my circumstances.
I was considerably calmer when I returned to my truck and sat behind the steering wheel. I was about to start the engine when that same rental car turned slowly into the parking lot.
She’d come back.
I didn’t get out. I waited for her to make the first move.
She walked the short distance to my car and opened the passenger-side door. In my peripheral vision, one shapely leg in skinny jeans followed the other. I swallowed hard and gripped the steering wheel. Next came her delectable ass, which she sat on my leather seat.
Enough already.
I was torturing myself. I kept my eyes straight ahead. Looking at her made me both angry and horny, along with resentful and needy. None of which would help my current situation.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly as she shut the door.
“I know,” I said in a voice colder than the frigid air outside this car.
She dug in her purse, which was almost as big as my hockey duffle. My mother had carried a ginormous purse like that when we were younger.
“I meant to give this to you earlier before I lost my nerve.” She held out a manila envelope. Frowning, I took it from her, careful not to touch her fingers, and opened it. I pulled out the contents, which consisted of a handful of photographs. She could’ve given me her cell phone to scroll through the images, but instead, she’d had photographs printed. For some reason, the gesture melted my frozen heart a bit. At least, it was an olive branch, and I would graciously accept it as such.
I stared at the first photo of two children smiling for the camera. The little girl was dressed in a pink frilly dress, her blonde hair and blue eyes reminding me of her mother. Yet there was something in the stubborn set of her jaw and mischief shining in those eyes that reminded me of myself. The little boy had brown eyes and dark brown hair. He wore a sweatshirt and jeans. He was barely smiling, his gaze intense. He was the spitting image of me. My heart soared as I gaped at the two of them.
I was a father. A fucking father. They were part of me, and I was part of them. My chest swelled with pride for these two little lives I’d helped create. They were my blood, and I knew in that instant I’d fight to be a part of their lives.
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