Hell, he wouldn’t be returning our calls in general if he really knew.
We more than likely would’ve found him banging on our doorstep, demanding us to come out and fight him man-to-man.
I can imagine her fear if Richard ever found out.
He might be the most even-keeled man I know, but no father could hear something like that about his daughter and come out the other side unchanged.
The thought of his face, the betrayal that would flicker across it if he ever learned the truth makes my stomach clench.
But still…she could’ve come tous.
We would’ve found a way, kept it quiet, handled it between the four of us without letting it turn into a scandal that ripped everything apart.
She wouldn’t have had to carry the weight of the pregnancy alone or the thousand tiny decisions that shape a kid’s life.
We could’ve helped.
Even if it meant doing it in the shadows, she wouldn’t have beenalone.
The idea makes my stomach twist. Because if Eliisone of ours—if he’smine—then she’s been raising him all these years without me.
Withoutanyof us.
And not because she had to, but because she chose to.
I rub a hand over my face, groaning into my palm.
It’s stupid to think about.
Even stupider to hope, but I can’t shake it.
The what-ifs have me in a chokehold.
I pully out my phone and pull up Callum’s contact. I hesitate for half a heartbeat before hittingcall. The line rings twice before he answers.
“You find anything good?” he asks over a backdrop of faint holiday music and what sounds like a cash register. “I’m striking out at this craft store. Why the hell is shopping for a birthday so damn difficult? I should’ve just gotten him a bottle of scotch and called it a day.”
I grunt, leaning back against the seat, eyes still fixed on the shop’s frosted windows through my windshield. “Just saw Noelle.”
There’s a beat of silence. It’s brief, but heavy enough that I can almost hear the way his posture changes on the other end. When he speaks again, his tone’s different. Quieter. “Yeah? How’s she doing? Been a while.”
“Don’t know,” I admit. “She didn’t talk much.”
He hums, that thoughtful noise he makes when he’s chewing over something. “She look alright?”
I hesitate, the next part catching in my throat before I can stop it. “Yeah. But something felt…off.”
“Off how?”
“Just,” I trail off, dragging a hand through my hair until it tugs at the roots. The silence between us hums faintly, filled only by thesoft static of the car’s heater. “I’m overthinking this. If her son was one of ours, she would’ve told us, right?”
He sighs. “You’d think so. Noelle never struck me as the type that liked to play games. But…six years is a long time. People change.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, staring out at the snow drifting across the windshield in lazy spirals.
Each flake melts the instant it hits the glass, disappearing as quickly as it lands.
For a while, neither of us says anything.
