I frown. “What do you mean?”
She shakes her head, her cheek brushing against my shoulder, and her fingers pause along their path momentarily. “I was pregnant when I woke up in the hospital,” she confesses. “And since no one ever came looking for me, I couldn’t say whether the father knew. If that’s why he chose not to find me—or if he’s the reason I wound up there in the first place.”
The edge to her tone is like a razor blade across my chest, and I flinch internally.
If she was already pregnant by the time she wound up in the hospital, that likely means one of two things—either Jackson is my son, or the men who took Stephanie raped her before they left her for dead.
Either way, her assessment of the situation hits too close to home.
Iamthe reason she wound up in the hospital.
And my gut churns at the prospect that one of the men who stole her from me—who tried to kill her—could also be Jackson’s father.
“Do you know how far along you were when you woke up? Or the date when that good Samaritan dropped you off at the hospital?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light but failing miserably.
Stephanie lifts her head from my chest once more, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she frowns up at me. “Why do you want to know?” she counters, her tone instantly guarded.
Definitely crossed a line with that one.My stomach flip-flops as I quickly try to backpedal. “Just curious,” I assure her.
But the possibility that Jackson might actually be my son fills me with emotions I wasn’t entirely prepared for.
It kills me to know it’s a possibility, and yet I can’t say it.
Worse is the fact that it’s a gag order of my own making.
Guilt dominates because, either way, the fact that she was pregnant when she woke at the hospital means that I failed to protect Stephanie in a far worse way than I ever could have realized.
I didn’t just fail to keep her safe.
I either failed our unborn son, or I left her in the hands of men who did unspeakable things to her.
And then I let her raise a child all on her own.
I know that the remorse eating me from the inside now will follow me to my grave.
There’s nothing I can do to fix the terrible mistake I’ve made, and if I try, I will only reopen old wounds and create more pain.
Stephanie can never find out who I really am—not after I’ve heard the trauma I caused by not being there when she needed me most.
If she ever learned the whole truth, she wouldn’t just think I betrayed her trust.
She would know how utterly I failed her in every way.
And she might never speak to me again.
16
JANE
The conflict warring across Gio’s face makes my heart drop.
Maybe, despite what he said, my past—or lack thereof—will scare him away after all.
It stings to think that, of everything that could bother him, the fact that I don’t know who Jackson’s father is would be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Walls slamming down around my heart, I pull away from him again, defensive for an entirely different reason this time—and one I would be even less forgiving about.
Because my little boy is my entire world. And to me, it doesn’t matter who blessed me with him. He’s all that matters.
