Page 4 of Single Mom's Undoing

“We’re almost there, baby. I promise.”

A knock at the door breaks the moment.

“Finish your breakfast,” I say, winking. “And no hiding waffles in your pockets this time.”

I head down the hallway, still holding onto the fragile hope that’s kept me moving these past two days. For the first time in years, it feels close enough to touch.

I open the door expecting Jodie—she’s early sometimes.

Instead, three men fill the porch. My brother’s best friends. My past.

Carter Lockwood stands in front, broad-shouldered and every bit as dangerous to my pulse as he was five years ago.

Jace Wilder and Damon Cross flank him like they never stopped moving as a unit—three walls closing in.

All former SEALs.

All muscle and intensity.

All staring at me like they can’t quite believe I’m real.

It’s been five years.

“What are you doing here?” My voice is low, careful, hoping Matty can’t hear.

Carter’s brow furrows. “Shouldn’t we be asking you that?”

His scent hits me—woodsmoke and something familiar enough to hurt. His blonde hair is longer, beard rougher, but those gray-blue eyes haven’t changed. They scan me like they’re searching for answers I’ll never give.

“It’s really you,” Jace says, his blue eyes cutting right through me. His hair is longer now, framing his face, making those cheekbones even sharper.

“Jace,” I breathe, then glance at Damon. Time’s been kind to him—just a few streaks of silver in his brown hair, his dark eyes as steady as ever. “Damon…you can’t be here.”

“We need to talk,” Carter says, his tone edged with command. “You owe us an explanation.”

“I can’t do this right now.”

The truth would wreck him. I made my choice years ago and learned to live with it. But these men never took no for an answer.

“We took care of Stephan’s place for you,” Jace says. “Jodie told you?”

“She did. Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“Clara, you don’t get to sneak back into town without telling us,” Carter presses. “We deserve to know what happened.”

I shrug. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing to say. I had to go.”

“You couldn’t handle Stephan taking his own life,” Damon says flatly.

The blow lands, but I mask it. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Then tell us,” Carter urges. “We’re listening.”

“I have nothing?—”

“Momma?”

Matty’s voice freezes all of us.