“Too long.” He says quietly, “He’s asleep.”
Sure enough, Ethan has passed out in my arms, much quicker than he ever usually does, “Must be your voice,” I muse.
I don’t move from the couch though, gently laying myself back against the cushions as I stroke his hair.
Kolt settles down himself, and for a long while silence fills the room. I’m about to get up and put Ethan down for the rest of the night but when I look over to Kolt, his eyes are closed, and his mouth slightly parted. My cat is curled up on his lap, his large hand resting over his back.
I can’t bear to move and wake him, so I watch him, seeing so much of him in Ethan, it physically pains me. I have my boy on my chest and his father at my side, the man that stole my heart without trying, who then broke it and took every piece with him.
He stays for the next week; I’ve become so used to him now that I no longer get all sweaty when he arrives, but my heart still gallops and my stomach knots. He’s done so much already, fixed things in the house I didn’t even know were broken, chopped and stocked the firewood supply, cooked a few times too and fuck, having a hot fresh meal was like heaven.
I no longer put away his bedding, instead I wash it and fold it ready for him and we’ve taken it in turns handling Ethan through the night. I’ve slept more this week than I have in two years.
And it’s been…nice. Having him here, having someone to talk to at two A.M when it feels like the whole world is sleeping.
There’s fresh coffee in the pot when I come out of the shower and giggles coming from the living room, but it’s the female voice I hear that catches me off guard. Not just any female, my sister.
“Immy?” I rush through to find her and Kolt sitting on the couch, Ethan on the floor with a set of building blocks while cartoons play on the TV.
“Oh hey, Ness,” Imogen gets up and comes over, embracing me and kissing my cheek before she quirks a brow like I’ve been hiding something from her. Which I have, I guess. I never told her about Kolt.
“Uh, so you met Kolt?” I chew my lip sheepishly. Like I used to do when we were kids, and I stole her favorite sweater.
“Oh, Ethan’s daddy,” Her voice has this high-pitched ring to it that tells me she’s upset without telling me she’s upset. Shit. “Yeah, I met him.”
I glance over her shoulder, finding Kolt staring, and when he makes eye contact with me, he mouths the word sorry. He told her!?
Shit.
“Don’t get mad at him, Vanessa,” Imogen steps back and crosses her arms, “He didn’t say anything but it’s hard not to notice how much they look alike when they’re in the same room. He couldn’t deny it when I asked him.”
“Immy…” I start.
“Don’t,” She sighs, walking past me into the kitchen for the coffee which she brings back into the living room to top up hers and Kolt’s cups, “You lied to me.”
She’s moving around a lot, taking the coffee back to the kitchen, without offering me a cup, another signal that she is pissed at me. My sister is a mother hen, she looks after people, it’s what she does so her not making me a cup is a sign of how pissed at me she is.
“It’s not that easy,” I say.
“You always knew?” She asks, “That Torin’s brother is the father of your son? My nephew.”
“Yes.” I answer.
“And you kept it from me?You kept it from him!”
The judgement rings true and clear in her tone.
“Hey now,” Kolt stands, “It’s not Nessa’s fault.”
But Immy just glares at him and while that glare would have stopped a weaker man, Kolt doesn’t even flinch at my sister’s wrath.
Panic is surging up in me, my hair is dripping water down the back of my sweater and my palms are clammy, and everything is pressing on me, boiling and spilling like I’m about to explode.
“You lied,” Imogen accuses, “You told me you didn’t know. Why would you do that, Vanessa!?”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’m falling apart.
