“You shouldn’t be here.” It was Wyatt’s voice, the comment directed at Chloe. “She’s upset, Chloe. Understandably.”
“I know.” Regaining the use of her legs, she stepped away from him and moved closer to Wyatt. “I’m sorry.”
Wyatt shook his head. “The minute Johnny’s out of earshot, she’ll be on the phone to Mick. This is undue stress.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” she repeated, and it sounded genuine.
“He could’ve seen you. Or worse, him.” He gestured toward Jameson, whose resemblance was so similar, even a nine-year-old would notice it.
“Hey,” Wyatt said, greeting Jameson but not offering his hand. “You seem shocked. I don’t know why you would be, but I do know this. Don’t take it out on Chloe. The fault is your own.”
Jameson scoffed. “Since you seem to know more about my business than I do, I’ll allow you your little threat over her honor. Can’t promise I’ll abide, and since I’m suddenly in a fighting mood, I think I’ll press my luck.”
Because Jameson taking it—never knowing he had a child—out on Chloe was in her future.
Looking back at her, Wyatt gave her a reassuring smile. “You okay?”
“No,” she said on a watery laugh. “But I will be.”
“You always are. You’re tough.” And with that, he hugged her and left.
Jameson watched the exchange with his arms crossed, in full defensive mode.
“Uncle Wyatt?” he spat, firing off the first of many questions.
She didn’t answer. She simply walked away, heading for the parking lot and her car, his truck parked next to it. Because yeah, he followed her. Wanted to see for himself if she was lying. Stepping out with Wyatt while sleeping with him.
So, lying? Check.
But right this second, he didn’t care if they were banging each other silly. He had other beef.
“Don’t walk away, Chloe. We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to say,” she said, ignoring him though he was walking stride for stride with her toward the parking lot.
He laughed sarcastically. “There’s so much shit for you to say I don’t even know where you’re gonna begin.”
“The beginning and the ending are the same, and you already know them. I got pregnant. You left. In that exact order, in rapid succession.”
As they neared her car, he blocked the driver’s side door with his body. She’d have to physically move him to get inside, and yes, he knew that was probably a misdemeanor in most states, but she wasn’t running out so easily.
An irony that didn’t escape him, because yes, she got pregnant—and he left. He ran. But it wasn’t easy.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath.
“I don’t want to use curse words or make animal sounds or act like an all-around lunatic and cause a public scene, Chloe. I want to be as eloquent as I can be while getting the answers I deserve.”
He stared at her, and she looked so small, so vulnerable that he dug deep for justifiable anger. “But for the life of me, the only question I can think to ask is . . . What the fuck?”
He pointed to the baseball field in case she was confused.
“He’s adopted.”
“Yeah, I got that much. Why?”
“Why?” she nearly shouted. “Because you’re a selfish asshole. And because of that personality flaw, I was forced to make the most unselfish decision of my life, at seventeen years old. And that’s why I hate you. I will never not hate you for that, Jameson. Even when I’m delusional enough to think I might still love you.”
“That’s a discussion for later. Right now, I want to know how I get him back. Or let me rephrase that . . . how do I get him to start with? Because he doesn’t belong to her. He belongs to me.”
To us.
She snorted in disbelief. “We’re not his parents. His parents are Mick and Marlene Hennessey. It’s a closed adoption, and trust me, they’ll enforce it. You can’t come back here. You can’t see him, and you can never attempt to talk to him.”
“Are you kidding me? You expect me to never see my son? Never talk to him?”
“It will only hurt and confuse him. He doesn’t know who we are. He can’t know until he’s eighteen, unless they tell him.” Her voice cracked, and despite a valiant attempt to hold them back, tears dripped down her cheeks.
She was the most beautiful crier he’d ever seen.
“Even after he turns eighteen,” she continued, “Johnny may never know. May never want to know. It’s not our choice.”
“Don’t talk to me about fucking choices!”
She stiffened at that but held her ground. “You forfeited your vote ten years ago.”
“I never got a vote!” He held out his arms. “You think I signed my rights away, you’re fucking wrong. And if you think I’d fight dirty to get Maine Lane back, try me on my kid. But then again, I should just be grateful he even exists, right?”
He watched as realization dawned on her.
“Is this your bitch with me? Why you’ve hated me for the last decade? Hate me now? Because you thought I had an abortion?”
“I was told you did.” And she was gleeful when she informed him. “I was never told I was a father to a boy who’s half-grown and will one day think I didn’t give a shit about him.”
“You didn’t! You’re not a father, you’re a leaver. That’s what you are. A goodbye guy, especially once there’s a problem and it’s so super convenient for you to bail instead. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it,” she said, gesturing around them. “One day, Johnny will know it.”
That last dig was a cheap shot, and she looked shocked that the words came out of her mouth.
“What, the spoiled little rich girl expected me to stay and do her bidding?” He took a step closer to her. “Let you string me along by my dick?”
“Not my bidding. Your duty.” She clutched her keys, remotely unlocking the doors. “Now, get out of my way or I’m sounding the alarm. I’m done talking to you.”
“You did that a decade ago. Led me around by my dick. And you’ve done it this week,” he said, ignoring her warning. “That might work with pussy-whipped Wyatt, but not with me.”
She opened her mouth to fire back, then paused.
An adorable furrow formed between her brows, and he hated that he noticed.
“Wait.” She held up a hand. “Who told you I had an abortion?”
“I’ll give you one clue. She has ice water in her veins. That’s why I left, Chloe. I knew you weren’t coming with me. Our plans were canceled. Our life together was canceled. Per your wishes.”
She stared at him, her big blue eyes blinking, and he could see her wheels turning.
Pointing back toward the empty field, he added, “Our baby, canceled.”
“My mother told you that?” Her voice was low, and edged with a simmering anger he’d never heard from her before.
“With utter joy. Like it was Christmas fucking morning.”
“She used that word? Abortion?” When he nodded, she closed her eyes. Rolled her lips. “And that’s why you left a day early? Without me?”