His words were like a dagger through her heart. She’d played moments like this in her mind a hundred times—moments when Lane would be with his son. That she’d tell him about their baby and the two would come face-to-face.
Never would she have pictured this.
Since the day the pink line came across the little white stick his adamant claims of never wanting to be a father had plagued her. He’d mentioned more than once how he’d never wanted to be a parent, how his own dad’s shortcomings were enough to keep him far away from anything that could tie him down and hold him responsible for another life.
A notion he’d driven home the last night they’d spent together. When in a moment of weakness and grief over her failed marriage she’d confessed her desire to start a family ofher own. Lane’s harsh laugh, followed by his argument she was better off on her own was seared in her brain.
But now, seeing Lane with their son, she second guessed her decision to keep his paternity a secret. She couldn’t give him back the first three months of Parker’s life, but she could make it possible for him not to miss out on anything else.
“It’s a connection like no other,” she said, finally answering his question.
Lane lifted his gaze to meet hers. “He’s amazing. I want to know him—for him to know me.”
Emotion lodged in her throat, and she nodded. “We’ll figure it out. As long as you promise not to break his heart. If you promise not to hurt him.”
“I’d give my life to keep him safe.”
The fierceness in his eyes told her that he meant it. For now, she’d have to take his word. Trust her gut and take one day at a time.
She just had to make sure to protect her own heart in the process. Because she might believe he wouldn’t hurt their son, but Lane had already burned her twice. She wouldn’t survive it a third time.
10
After eating, Lane failed to convince Celine to let him stay longer. He’d made sure she set the alarm before leaving. Tearing himself away from Parker had been like removing a limb.
Climbing the stairs to the porch, he rubbed a heel over his aching chest. This lonely feeling wasn’t new, heck he’d grown up missing something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Meeting Parker and knowing he had a son filled that hole in a way he hadn’t expected.
In a way he hadn’t known possible.
Which lead him to the next problem. With a renewed sense of purpose, he stormed into the house and stalked into one of the two rooms where he never stepped foot. He stalled for a second at the closed door, reminding himself that his father was gone. That no one sat and waited to ambush him, to threaten or hit him.
His father’s ghost might remain, but the old man couldn’t do more to him while dead than when he was alive.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he entered the sacred space. Heavy crimson drapes covered the windows, casting thespacious room in shadows. The thick rug padded the steps of his scuffed cowboy boots as he crossed to the oversized mahogany desk. He did his best to ignore the framed photos of his father on the walls, along with the awards and accolades he had mounted along with the trophies of past hunts.
If he planned to use this office, he’d have to change every last detail down to the types of books displayed in the built-in shelf that took up the far wall. Even the lingering scent of cigars twisted his stomach, transporting him back to years spent trapped in this house with a man he despised.
But now he’d take everything he’d been given—whether he’d wanted it or not—and use it to create a future for him and his child. The only question was if his idea held merit or not.
First, he had to get a better understanding of the finances. Even though his father had left him everything, he planned to give half to Suzy—who their father had screwed over royally in the will. After he figured out where he stood, he’d sell the damn house if he needed to. But something Celine’s mom said stuck in his brain.
He’d looked at this property being dumped in his lap as a bad thing. Maybe he could use it for something more than what was intended. His father would roll over in hell if he knew he’d taken a space filled with pain and heartache and turned it into something useful. Something that provided what he needed as well as gave back to the community that played a hand in raising him.
Sitting behind the desk, he found the stack of paperwork he’d been given by his lawyer and fired up the computer. Numbers and graphs stared back at him, mocking him. Dammit, making heads or tails of the mountain of information might be the death of him.
“Knock, knock,” Duke said from the doorway. “Mind if I come in?”
Lane shoved aside the file folder and sank into the brown leather chair. For once, he was grateful for Duke’s interruption. “Only if you don’t talk to me about figures or assets.”
Duke chuckled and sat on the bucket chair across from the desk. He hooked an ankle over his knee and rested his cowboy hat on his lap. “That’s fine. We can talk about your sister instead.”
A flash of anger heated Lane’s face. He had a hundred things to say about the two of them spending time together, but Celine’s wisdom rang in his ears. The more he protested, the more he’d light the fire between him. Better to keep his opinions to himself.
“Did you guys have a nice afternoon?” He bit out the words through gritted teeth.
“Sure did. She showed me the town, which is much cuter than I thought it was. Nice little place. And your sister’s funny as hell. Don’t know how some guy hasn’t swept her off her feet yet.”
“Who knows,” Lane said. “Guess she’s got a good bullshit detector, and no one’s passed the test.”
