Tia followed us in, closing the door behind her, and made her way to her desk, where she perched her ass on the edge, picked up a file, and pulled out some papers. “Charlene Harmon,” she began.
We all looked at her blankly.
“That’s the name of Imogen’s mother,” she advised us gently. “Charlene died five days ago of a drug overdose.”
Maeve gasped and reached for Callum’s hand. “Oh my God. How awful,” she breathed.
“Yeah,” Tia agreed. “Charlene’s partner was at the scene and immediately taken into custody. We don’t know on what charges, but I assume he supplied her. The paramedics could see he was high, so they wouldn’t leave Imogen in the house with him. Plus, the baby was obviously in distress, and they wanted her checked over.”
The thought of the kid suffering in that way made something twist in my chest. Jesus, she could be my niece, and she’d already been through enough bullshit to last a lifetime.
Callum cursed at the same time as a soft sob escaped Maeve’s throat. Obviously, it was affecting them too.
“I don’t know anyone by that name,” Callum told her. “Why do you think I’m the father?”
Tia’s eyes shot to me and then back to Callum. “Charlene’s boyfriend told the police that she got pregnant by the owner of the Lucky Shamrock bar when she passed through Wyoming on her way home from seeing family in Utah just over a year and a half ago. He doesn’t know when exactly. Charlene never went into detail, but she was adamant.” Again, her gaze veered to me, and she frowned thoughtfully.
A weird feeling hit my gut.
“I never had a one-night stand then,” Callum stated emphatically.
Maeve patted his hand to shut him up. “How’s the baby?” she asked.
“She’s well and healthy, though a little underweight. Nothing we’re concerned about, though. She seems happy enough, though she cries for her mom.”
It was too much for Maeve. She turned to Callum, buried her face in his chest, and broke down.
My brother’s arms automatically went around her, and I moved in to rub her back soothingly.
“Can we see her?” Callum asked.
She shot us a sympathetic smile. “Not right now. We need to establish paternity first. I have a doctor here who can take a blood sample if that’s okay with you.” Her eyes strayed to me and narrowed slightly.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re brothers, and it’s a family bar, right?” Tia asked.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
“It’s just...” Her voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat. “Maybe we should test you, too.”
My hands suddenly went clammy. “What do you mean, test me?”
“Did you work at the same bar about eighteen, nineteen months ago?” she asked.
Blood began to rush in my ears, and my brain began to misfire. I furiously tried to remember where I was around then and what I was doing, but God help me, I couldn’t think straight.
“You were on leave around that time,” Callum reminded me. “You were home most of December for Christmas and the New Year. Dad was getting sicker, so you took some compassionate leave. We knew it would be his last Christmas.”
A sick feeling hit my gut.
“She looks like you,” Tia murmured. “She has your eyes. I noticed it immediately.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but all that came out was a weird, strangled sound. The room began to spin, so I sat forward, elbows to knees, resting my head in my hands. I wanted to say it was impossible because I always, without fail, used protection, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Jesus, Donovan,” Callum exclaimed.
Maeve pulled back from Callum and turned to look at me, her eyes wide with shock, and asked, “Did you sleep with anyone around that time?”
