Page 14 of False Start

My eyes watered when he asked. It was like he was hurt by that fact as much as he was amazed by it.

He had a lot of balls to have that reaction, since the last time he’d found out I was pregnant, he’d left me.

I licked my lips on a laugh, slinging my purse over my shoulder. “Yep. And before you ask, no, he isn’t yours.”

That made Kyle frown. “Why would I assume that?”

I closed my eyes, forcing a breath. Of course, he wouldn’t assume I kept our child. I was just eighteen when he left. He was sixteen, for fuck’s sake. We were both still kids ourselves.

Not that I’d been much older when Marshall had knocked me up, but in that scenario, he was the older one. He was more mature. He knew what to do.

Or so I thought at the time.

I cleared my throat, lifting my chin to meet Kyle’s gaze even when it made me sick to do so. How he could be so callous, pretending like it never happened, made my blood boil.

Almost as much as it made my heart long to go back to that day, to force him to talk to me, to not let him go so easily. I was young, scared, and insecure — even though I masked that with a hard exterior.

We were both so good at pretending to be people we weren’t.

The commission, I reminded myself.

I only had to stomach him for a short while, and then I’d have the key to my freedom.

“I will send you a list of houses in the morning. I have your availability here, and I’m sure we’d both like this to be over quickly, so expect a full schedule.”

I bolted out of that restaurant like it was on fire, leaving Kyle Robbins to put out the flames.

Madelyn

I was terrified when I found out I was pregnant.

I wish I could say I was elated, that I cried tears of joy and dreamed of the child I was growing inside me and what they’d be when they grew up. I wish I could say I ran to my husband and celebrated.

The truth was that I fell to the floor in the bathroom, covering my mouth and shaking my head, convinced I wasn’t actually seeing those two lines.

I was scared when I told Marshall. I was scared when we went to the doctors’ appointments. I was scared when my mom talked me through what to expect and most of all, I was scared of being a mother.

I was scared I wouldn’t be agoodmother.

My fears never went away, but they did fade the moment the doctor put Sebastian in my arms. Suddenly, fear took a backseat, and the most primal feeling took its place behind the wheel.

I knew, no matter what, I would protect him with my life.

“Can we try to get the spooninyour mouth, Sebastian?” I teased from the other side of the kitchen island, reaching overto wipe up the bit of milk that had splashed next to his book. He had it splayed open with one little hand while the other unsuccessfully navigated spoonfuls of Honey Nut Cheerios into his mouth.

He giggled a little when I wiped up the milk and then tapped his nose with the rag. I was just thankful he was feeling better, that his little display of projectile vomiting at his father’s seemed to be a one-night bug and not something that knocked him down for a week.

“You like that one,” I said, nodding at the book.

“It’s okay.”

“Just okay?” I asked, continuing where I was packing up his lunch. “You’ve been laughing all through breakfast.”

“It’s funny, but I like the history books better.”

I wrinkled my nose. “History?”

This kid was so much like me in so many ways — from the shape of his eyes and nose to the way I had to all but drag him out of bed in the morning — but his love for reading, for knowledge?