Page 34 of Fractured Destiny

Her eyes search mine. “Yes, I do, if it protects him.”

I stare at her, waiting for guilt. Defensiveness. Some excuse I can tear apart and shove back across the table.

She gives me none of it.

“I came here for him.” Her eyes flick to Linus and back to me. “Not to make you forgive me. I don’t expect you to understand everything in one day. I’m not going to explain every choice I made until I’m certain we can integrate you into his life.”

“You think I care more about blaming you than knowing him?” I spit out.

“I don’t know.”

Three words stop me in my tracks. It’s her truth.

She swallows. “Let’s not forget, I only knew you for one night.”

I flinch, because there it is. The night. My bed. Her voice purring about me embracing the silence. Wanting to crawl inside her body. Orgasms so intense, I still get hard imagining fucking her.

Then, the empty pillow in the morning. The stupid scrap of paper with her fake name on it in my goddamn pocket, that I’m sure as hell not going to tell her about.

“No.” My voice is rough. “You can’t drop a bomb on me like this and try to diminish what happened.”

“I’m not.”

“You make it sound like it was nothing.” I can’t believe how saying this out loud hurts my soul. “I have a kid.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Noa’s cheeks flush. Barely. The first crack in the serenity. “It was never nothing.”

Silence presses down the air around us. Linus discreetly gets up and moves over to his desk where he can hear us but allows us some space.

Good. I’m not happy with him. Words will be had later.

“You walked out,” I mutter almost to myself. “Left a fake name.”

“Neeley was a name I used in college.” She holds my gaze. “It wasn’t exactly fake, but it also wasn’t very honest either.”

“I have no idea what game you’re playing. Will you stop speaking in riddles?” I look at the photograph again because Levi is easier and harder at the same time.

She looks down at the table. Takes a deep breath.

Truth be told, I can be angry at Noa and Linus, and I am. Very.

I can’t be angry at him. The most adorable little boy I’ve ever seen is sitting on a log, smiling at the camera, holding a rock like it’s the most precious gem in the world.

“Do you know what my whole goddamn childhood was?” I shove the picture at her.

Noa goes still.

“Waiting.” My voice drops, and somehow the quiet sucks all the air out of the room. “I waited for people who never came back. My mother. Father. Multiple sets of foster parents. Social workers. Every goddamn birthday, I thought maybe this is the year somebody who loved me remembered I existed. I prayed during every placement, “maybe this house will stick.“ Then I made it my fault and tried to be perfect. Thought if I was quiet enough or useful enough or talented enough, nobody would send me away.”

The words keep coming. I can’t stop them. Not now.

Not when I have a son in this world.

“I swore if I ever had a kid, he or she would never spend one day wondering where I was.” My voice cracks. “Not one. I vowed if I had to sleep in my car or work five jobs and play six sets a night, I’d still crawl across broken glass to get to him.”

My hands curl into fists. “Did you think I would’ve let him grow up without me?”

“No. I never believed that.” Noa’s eyes shine.