She studies me like I’m a new strand of bacteria under a microscope. “It’s a nice na—”
“Why don’t you do us both a favor and shut—”
I don’t finish that sentence because an alarm starts beeping, Jameson’s tiny limbs start twitching, and his face turns blue.
A red haze clogs my vision as I march down the hallway.
I’m gonna kill her.
I’m not joking, either. The sensation to put my hands around Becca’s neck and squeeze the life out of her is so potent my palms are itching.
Then again, if I murder her, Jameson won’t have a mother. Not that he has much of one now, that much is obvious.
Bypassing the nurse’s station on her floor, I take a sharp left down another hallway. The rage inside me is bubbling like a volcano that’s about to explode and endanger everyone within a fifty-mile radius.
Jameson did nothing to deserve the bullshit he’s being served. He’s innocent.
My heart stops cold when I enter the room to find her dressed, packing various things into a bag.
Packing. Like her son didn’t have a seizure a few hours ago and isn’t fighting for his life.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” She turns to face me. Her puffy eyes and unkempt appearance throw me. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been discharged.”
“I heard.” I inch closer, refusing to let her disheveled demeanor distract me from why I’m here. “You know, while I’ve been hanging out with your sick son. Your son who you haven’t even bothered to see since the delivery room. Your son who had a goddamn seizure four hours ago and isn’t doing too well.”
Becca’s smile is so callous, I wish she was a dude so I could wipe it off her face with my fist. “That’s pretty funny coming from you of all people.” She crinkles her nose. “Considering you’re the reason he’s so sick in the first place.”
It’s a low blow, but she’s not wrong. I know the part I played in this. The guilt gnawing at what’s left of my conscience won’t let me forget. “My fuckup doesn’t explain yours. Why do you keep ignoring him?”
“Kind of like how you ignored me for months?” Her gaze flies to my hand around her wrist. “You’re hurting me.”
I tighten my hold. “You’re hurting him. Hate me all you want, but don’t take it out on him. It’s not fair.”
“Why do you care anyway? You’re not his father.” She jabs my chest with her free hand. “You didn’t want him, remember? You wanted her.” She yanks her wrist from my grip. “I only agreed to let you visit him so you could see the damage you caused firsthand. But your time is up. My baby isn’t a pawn, Preston. You don’t get to choose him or me when it’s convenient for you.” She shoves me, but I don’t budge. “Now run off to your little dyke bitch who won’t even give you the time of day.” Her eyes become tiny slits. “I hope you make her fall for you like I did so you can mess up her life like you did ours.”
Her words send a bullet of white-hot pain through the center of my chest. Becca may be a manipulative, vindictive bitch…but she’s right.
Kit Bishop was my house of cards destined to collapse. An obsession I couldn’t shake. A bad bet with terrible odds.
The girl who ruined everything.
If I hadn’t been so busy lusting after her, Jameson wouldn’t be suffering…because I wouldn’t have wanted to hurt his mother to the extent I did.
However, Kit’s not the one to blame for all this. I am. I’m the reason he’s in the hospital in the first place. My actions, driven by hate for Becca and obsession for Kit, are responsible for his suffering.
An innocent child is left paying the price for my malicious transgressions.
In a way, I’m no better than my own father.
However, I’m not leaving this room without setting her straight about a few things. Leaning in, I whisper, “For the record, it wasn’t him I didn’t want…it was you.” I give her a callous smile of my own. “Lucky for me, I no longer have to deal with you or your psycho jealousy and desperation.” I run my thumb over her tense jaw. “Too bad Jameson can’t say the same, and he has the utter misfortune of being stuck with a mother who doesn’t know the first thing about being one.”
My statement has the intended impact. The sharp sting from her hand across my cheek makes me grin wider.
Until she says, “The next time you go near my son, I’ll have you arrested.” She presses a finger to her lips. “On second thought, why wait? I’ll call the police right now and tell them you’re a sick pedo who shouldn’t be around children.” She tosses her head back and cackles. “God, you should see your face right now. Priceless.” Her expression goes slack. “Newsflash, Preston. I’m not a pathetic pushover like your little lesbo. Keep pushing me, and I will end you.” She picks up a pitcher of water and throws it at me. “Stay away from him.”
It would be more humane if she ripped out the organ inside my chest and rolled it around in glass before setting it on fire.
“He takes a nap every ninety minutes or so, but according to the nurses, that’s normal for preemies. He can’t see anything more than shapes and shadows right now, but he reacts to the tone of people’s voices. He’s not too fond of his doctor, but there’s a nurse named Nevaeh—she’s the charge nurse in NICU—he likes her a lot. She takes good care of him.”
I stop when I reach the door. “He hates it when they poke at him, but if you let him hold your finger and talk to him, he’s less fussy, and it makes it easier for the staff to do what they need to.”
With that, I walk out.
Once again, I forgot the cardinal rule.
The house always wins.
“Preston.”
Ignoring the familiar voice, I trudge out the hospital doors.
“Preston, wait!” Neveah yells, her footsteps picking up.
Paying her no mind, I head for the cab waiting out front, but she catches up to me before I get in.
“What’s going on? Becca called down to the nurses’ station a few minutes ago demanding your visitation rights be revoked.”
“Sounds about right.”
I don’t even know why I’m so upset in the first place. I knew it would come to this. I just hadn’t thought it would hurt so much.
Fortunately, I know something that will make it better.
“Mohegan,” I tell the driver as I get into the back seat.
“Whoa, hang on a minute.” She wedges herself between me and the door when I try to close it. “I know it sucks, but don’t run away. Jameson needs you. Becca can’t keep you from your son.” She pulls a card out of her pocket and hands it to me. “This is my personal number. I happen to know a great lawyer who specializes in family court and custody rights. You have options—”
“No, I don’t.” Since I have nothing left to lose and there’s no way to untangle this web I’m caught in, I tell her the truth. “I’m not his father.”
Her eyes widen. “I don’t understand—”