“When Roman gets older and asks how babies are made, because he’s not buying the bird thing, that’s exactly how I’m telling him.”
Finally, Brax steps aside, smirking.
The tension drains from me as I move past him and plonk down on the sofa.
“She had a panic attack,” Brax explains.
“She told me they only happen after nightmares, but she also hasn’t had one in a long time,” I sigh.
“Her mom showed up at Bakes by the Lakes today. Erin heard her voice and put a few pieces together. She figured out the person who shot her father was her mother,” he says quietly. “She told me she was there.”
My heart drops like a stone being thrown off a cliff, thunking loudly in the deep waters below.
“She also told me her mom made her stay quiet about what she saw.”
I catch the tick in Brax’s jaw. His eyes darken in a controlled manner but burn hotter than fire. I’ve seen this look before. Rage wrapped in discipline. He wore it the day he found out his dad was cheating.
Brax can be a patient man, but he doesn’t tolerate betrayal.
Not then, not now.
At fifteen, he knew right from wrong. He gave his dad a choice—confess or lose him. Sebastian chose wrong. Brax walked out, changed his last name to his mom’s, and moved in with Emma’s family until he left for bootcamp training.
He never looked back.
The patio doors slide open, and Brax’s expression eases just from looking at his son. Roman walks in wearing his baseball pajamas, rubbing one eye with his hand and clutching a pillow with the other.
“Hey, buddy,” Brax calls out. “You okay?”
“The weirdest things make girls happy,” Roman mumbles. “Camping is not for me, so I’m sleeping in your bed. My back needs comfort.”
Brax chuckles and looks over at me. “I believe that’s your cue.”
Quietly, I step outside, sugary smoke lingering. As I crouch and unzip the tent. The nylon rustles, cool air brushing my face.
Erin’s curled into her sleeping bag, her cheeks blotchy and lashes still damp. Fragility blankets her, making it even more obvious how breakable she is.
Her breathing is shallow. I settle next to her and gently brush my knuckles over her cheek. Her eyes flutter open after a few seconds.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“You’re here,” she whispers.
“I’m here.”
She whips the sleeping bag off and climbs onto my lap, wrapping her small arms around me as though she’s afraid I’ll disappear.
She never has to worry.
“I would have been okay to wait for you,” she says, clutching my shirt. “You didn’t have to fly home early and miss tomorrow’s game.”
“I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” I murmur, kissing her head.
“I’m so stupid for not putting it together,” she mutters. “Brax said it’s trauma related, but I still think I should have known. I thought I was done letting her surprise and shock me, but this…” She lets loose a shaky breath. “I’m trying really hard not to let it bother me. I don’t want her being here or the truth to rattle me and undo everything I’ve worked hard to rebuild. I don’t want to take three steps back with you, Chase.”
“I know, baby.” I pull back from her enough to see her face. “You got triggered. That’s not the same thing as going back to the past. You were blindsided by a locked memory you didn’t know existed. You couldn’t have prepared for this.”
Her eyes shimmer with exhaustion.
