“What do you want to eat?”
“Ice cream.”
It’s the weekend, so the park has a lot of families, which always draws the food carts. “All right then. How does a vanilla cone sound?”
Another nod.
I let him off at the closest ice cream cart and buy two cones. His whole face lights up when I hand him his. Finding a place on an empty bench, we settle down.
I’ll wait here for an hour. Hopefully his father will come looking for him. Otherwise I’ll have to take him to the police station so his family can be tracked. That’s going to be a huge hassle.
We’re halfway through our cones when everything happens at once.
Footsteps. A blur of movement. Ethan’s startled yelp as he’s lifted into the air.
I’m moving before I think, grabbing the stranger’s arm. “Hey! Let go of—”
The man spins to face me, and the words die in my throat.
Grayson Wolfe.
His eyes are wild, and his hair is slightly disheveled as if he’s been running his fingers through it. There’s fear in his expression as he clutches Ethan against his chest, and then his gaze lands on mine, and everything stops.
We stare at each other.
His mouth opens. Closes. Those amber eyes go impossibly wide.
“You,” he breathes.
My hand is still gripping his forearm. His skin is warm under my fingers. Too warm, the same way it was in the exam room, like he runs several degrees hotter than the rest of the human population.
I drop his arm like it’s burned me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.
Because apparently my life wasn’t complicated enough already.
Ethan squirms in his arms. “Daddy!”
Grayson pulls him close, shifting him to one hip, but his eyes don’t leave me. The panic from a moment ago is fading, and his brows knit together, a wary look forming on his face. I cross my arms. I’m in running shorts and a sweaty tank top, and I’ve been in the woods for the better part of an hour, but I refuse to care about any of that.
“Is this your son?”
“Didn’t you just hear him call me Daddy?” His voice has a sharp edge to it.
“Then you should be more mindful when you’re watching your children.”
“Son,” he corrects, scowling. “I only have one child.”
“It doesn’t matter.” The protectiveness that came over me in those woods is still humming under my skin. “He wandered three miles in, Grayson. Three miles. He’s four!”
He goes still and then pulls Ethan closer to him, his tone defensive. “I was on the phone for two minutes.”
“Two minutes is all it takes,” I snap.
Seeing Ethan staring at me, I shake my head and reach down, giving his hand a quick squeeze before I straighten. “Now that you have him back, I’m leaving.”
Ethan’s face crumbles immediately. “No!”
