Page 123 of Made for Wilde

Jason fills the doorway, his broad shoulders tense beneath his flannel shirt. His eyes narrow when he sees me, gaze lingering on my swollen eye and split lip. His knuckles are scraped raw, matching wounds to the ones on my face.

“You look like shit.”

I try for a half-smile that pulls painfully at my split lip. “Feel like it too.”

Jason stands motionless for a long moment. I brace myself for the door to slam in my face. Instead, he steps aside, a grudging invitation.

The hotel room is standard issue. Beige walls, generic landscape prints, queen-sized bed with a geometric-patterned comforter. An open duffel bag sits on the luggage rack, clothes spilling out. Jason’s temporary home now that he can’t bear to be in the same town as his daughter and former best friend.

I remain standing awkwardly near the door while Jason leans against the desk, arms crossed defensively over his chest. The distance between us spans more than just the few feet of hotel carpet.

“So talk.” Jason’s jaw tightens, the muscle twitching beneath his skin.

I take a deep breath, wincing at the pain in my ribs.

“I know I betrayed you. There’s no excuse for that.” The words come out rough, unpracticed. “I fell in love with Charlotte, and I should have told you from the start.”

Jason’s face doesn’t move, but his fingers dig so hard into his biceps I wonder if he’ll draw blood. He’s always had this ability to be perfectly still and perfectly furious.

“I tried to fight it,” I continue, needing him to understand. “I told myself all the reasons it was wrong. She’s your daughter. She’s too young. You trusted me to look out for her, not fall for her.”

“Yet here we are.” Jason’s voice cuts through the room like a blade.

“Here we are,” I agree, meeting his gaze despite the guilt churning in my gut. “I’m not asking for forgiveness, Jason. I don’t deserve it. But Charlotte doesn’t deserve to lose her father over this.”

“You don’t get to tell me what my daughter deserves.” His words come sharp and quick. “You don’t get to betray my trust and then stand in my hotel room giving me parenting advice.”

The truth in his words hits harder than his fists ever could. I move toward the window, needing space to breathe through the tightness in my chest.

“She’s everything to me, Jason.” I stare out at the mountain view, focusing on the distant peaks rather than his reflection in the glass. “And this baby...” My voice breaks unexpectedly. “I never thought I’d get to be a father after what happened with Vanessa.”

The mention of my ex hangs in the air between us. Jason was there when I discovered her betrayal. When I learned the child I thought was mine belonged to another man. When I packed up the nursery I’d built with my own hands.

“You should have come to me.” Jason’s voice is quieter now, the rage banked but still smoldering. “Before it went this far. Before she was pregnant.”

I turn to face him. “Would it have made a difference?”

“I don’t know.” His honesty surprises me. “But you owed me that chance.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right. The knowledge sits heavy in my chest, alongside the pain of my bruised ribs and the hope I’m trying desperately to hold onto.

“I’m sorry,” I say simply. “Not for loving Charlotte or for this baby. But for betraying your trust. For not being man enough to come to you sooner.”

Something shifts in Jason’s expression. Not forgiveness, not yet. But the hard edge of hatred softens slightly.

I take a breath, feeling the weight of what I need to say.

“You can hate me all you want, Jason. I understand if you never want to speak to me again.” My voice comes out steadierthan I feel. “But please don’t punish Charlotte or my little girl for the mistakes I’ve made.”

Jason goes completely still. His eyes lock onto mine, and I see something shift in his expression.

“The baby is a girl?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah.” I reach into my back pocket, pulling out my wallet with careful movements. My fingers find the ultrasound photo tucked behind my driver’s license. The black and white image is creased from handling, but the tiny profile is still clear. “You can keep that one. I have plenty of copies.”

I hold it out to him, watching as he takes it with trembling fingers.

Jason stares down at the image for a long moment, then slowly sinks onto the edge of the bed. His shoulders curve inward as he studies the ultrasound, tracing the outline of his granddaughter’s face with his thumb.