Page 6 of Crave

The ride home was torturous. Hero wouldn’t stop sniffing the cat. I wished she had driven her car—that way I wouldn’t have been forced to listen to Mia’s apologies or that damn cat’s meow. I didn’t believe her Uber story for a minute, but I didn’t press.

I drove to a pet store where we bought the requisite cat supplies: litter box, scratching post, cat food, and those stupid feather things. A fucking cat. Hero would probably treat her like a chew toy, and I would have to protect the ball of fluff. But that stupid cat was the only connection I had to my son so I’d deal with it.

We arrived at my place and quickly corralled the cat into my small office.

Mia sat in a chair, holding the fluffy orange thing. “What are we naming her?”

“I don’t care. You choose.”

“Okay. How about Curry?”

“Sure, whatever. I’m going to make some calls.” I left them inside my office and shut the door.

Hero pawed at the door. “Sorry, buddy.” I gave him a treat and grabbed my phone to call Kyle. He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey man, what’s up?”

“I need a favor. Can you call that PI you know to help me find someone? Tiffany’s mother? Her name is Lorraine, but I don’t have a last name for her.” I rattled off all the other details I could remember: her address, what kind of car I saw in the driveway when I met my son, what the neighbor had said about her leaving. “She pulled up stakes sometime last week, and I need to find her.”

Kyle paused. “Sure thing. I’m on it. Man, how’s Joaquín? Have you heard from his sister? I feel bad that we never helped her out.”

I stared at Mia who had just emerged from my office. She poured herself a glass of water and curled up in a ball on my sofa while Hero lay at her feet.

This wasn’t the time to tell Kyle about Mia. I changed the subject. “Gotta run. Let me know when you hear anything.”

“Will do. Later.”

I hung up and grabbed a beer from the fridge, lingering in the kitchen as I took the first sip from the bottle.

I believed Mia that she didn’t know that her son was alive, but ultimately, her decisions caused us to lose our son. Could I put myself in her shoes? I thought about that question as I strode into the living room and took a seat on the opposite end from her.

She had been raped when I had been injured. I understood why she hadn’t told me about that. I would’ve been livid but helpless to do anything. Then she’d found out that she was pregnant and didn’t know who the father was, which must have been terrifying. So she left, went through the pregnancy alone, had a rough delivery where she became very ill, and then she was told her son had died.

She could’ve died, alone. I would’ve never recovered from her death. I wished I could’ve been there for her.

I took another sip of my beer.

Mia had always been proud. Always tried to be independent. Strong. Knowing her, she probably really thought she had been saving me from some kind of burden or stress.

But I would’ve done anything for her.

I still would do anything for her.

I thought the drive to protect her left me when she walked out of my hospital room, but clearly, it hadn’t. I’d slept with her. I’d agreed to help her. Sure, I pretended there weren’t any emotions involved and it was just fucking.

That was a lie.

Something inside me was unwilling to let me actually cut my ties with her, and that made me think that maybe . . . one day, I would be able to move past all the fucking hurt that woman caused me. After all, we were now in this together. We were Julián’s parents. If there was any hope I could learn to trust Mia again, I had to try.

For Julián.

Mia moved closer and looked up at me, eyes pleading. “What are we going to do?”

“Kyle’s going to try to find Tiffany’s mom. We’ll find him, I promise.”

She gulped and leaned into me.

I put my arm around her. “What do you think about Autumn? She was the one who led us both to Julián. Do you think she knew he was our kid?”