Page 50 of Unbreakable Bonds (The Boston Romance #2)

CARMEN

Fifteen Years Ago

The silence in this house devours everything - even memories.

Each empty room echoes with phantom sounds: Gregory's laughter bouncing off marble floors, the whisper of his fingers across piano keys, the gentle clink of his ridiculous espresso machine at dawn.

Now there's only this freezing wind trapped in my heart, an ache that comes and goes but always returns in the still moments, when the quiet becomes too loud to bear.

My fingertips stroke the polished lid of his piano, the wood smooth and cold beneath my touch. Once, this instrument sang with life under his hands. Under Cole's. Now, like everything else since the funeral, it stands as a monument to what we've lost. Wrong. Empty. Dead.

Every memory of you, my love, plays like a song in my head. An endless loop of moments I can never get back. The final kiss. The last smile. The morning you didn't wake up.

Months have passed, but grief still rampages through my limbs, my mind, my soul, like a wild animal I can't tame. I lift our favorite photo, speaking to him as if he might answer, my fingers tracing his dazzling smile in desperate hope it might ease this suffocating pain.

"You should be here, Gregory." My voice cracks on his name.

"Making your ridiculous espresso in that absurdly expensive machine, complaining about coffee bean prices like they're a personal insult.

You should be here to hug me goodnight, kiss me good morning.

I need to touch your lips, stare into those bright blue eyes while you tell me you love me.

Just one more time. Please, just one more time. "

My trembling fingers move to Cole's face in the photo.

Our beautiful boy, so like his father it steals my breath.

"Since you left us, he won't touch the piano.

Why is he doing this, Gregory? When he plays, it's like watching you again - the same passion, the same gift.

The same light in his eyes. I can't lose him too. He's all I have left of you."

I glance between my two loves - husband and son, both slipping away from me.

One to death, the other to grief. "He got accepted into Harvard Business School.

" A long sigh escapes, heavy with mixed pride and sorrow.

"Since he's not playing anymore, at least he's getting an excellent education.

At least I can protect this much of his future. "

As I wipe away a tear staining the glass, the doorbell's harsh ring shatters my reverie. The sound feels wrong in this mausoleum of memories.

"Jeremy?" No answer. Of course - it's his day off. He's earned it, taking care of me since Gregory's death, making sure I eat, standing guard over my grief like a faithful sentinel.

I place the photo back with utmost care, my fingers lingering on Gregory's face one last time before forcing myself toward the door. Pull yourself together, Carmen. Show no weakness. You're still a Walker.

When I open it, a young woman stands on my doorstep. Dark blonde hair falls around a pretty face marked by anxiety. Her worn jeans, simple pink t-shirt, and scuffed sneakers set off every warning bell in my mind. She shifts her weight nervously, hands clasped tight enough to whiten her knuckles.

"Uh, does Cole Walker live here?"

My eyes narrow at the mention of my son. Something in her stance - desperate, determined - makes my spine stiffen. "Yes, but he's not here."

"Oh... Do you know when he will return?"

"I don't give that information to strangers." Ice coats my words. "How do you know my son?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." She extends her hand, forced politeness masking fear. "I'm Jessica Davis. Cole and I met in Los Angeles."

Los Angeles. Where Cole spent his summer "finding himself" instead of practicing for the upcoming concert season. What does she want from him? My protective instincts flare. "What is the urgency?"

She drops her outstretched hand, teeth worrying her lower lip. A gesture so young, so vulnerable. "Sorry, Mrs. Walker, it's a private matter. But you can trust me. It's crucial I talk to him."

Trust. Such a fragile thing, so easily shattered. Like piano strings under too much tension. Too many people have betrayed mine over the years. "I'm sorry, Miss Davis, but I doubt Cole would want to talk to you."

I move to close the door, but she wedges her foot and hand in the gap. The desperation in her eyes turns to steel. "Then I'll wait right here," she declares, chin lifted in defiance.

"You can sit there, but he won't return until next week."

Her eyes dart sideways as she runs nervous fingers through her hair. "Please, Mrs. Walker. I'm begging you. I need to speak with Cole in person. This isn't a conversation for the phone."

"I'm sorry," I start to close the door again, but her next words freeze me in place, turning my world to glass.

"Cole will be a father, Mrs. Walker."

The world tilts beneath my feet. Sound becomes distant, muffled, as if I'm underwater. "What?"

"I'm pregnant. And your son is the father."

A torrent of thoughts crashes through my mind, each one more terrifying than the last. Pregnant?

He's too young to be a father. Look at her - worn clothes, desperate eyes.

She must know about the money. This has to be a trap.

My Cole is responsible, but if she talks to him.

.. If he cared enough to sleep with her, he'll want to help.

Even if the baby isn't his. He'll throw away everything - Harvard, his future, all our plans.

And what if he leaves me for her? I can't lose him too.

Not after Gregory. Dear God, not after Gregory. No!

My mind races through possibilities, calculations, consequences. One thought rises above the rest: I cannot lose my son.

"Miss Davis, come in. Let's have a chat."

The study feels smaller with her in it, her youth and vitality a stark contrast to my carefully maintained world of grief. Her hands shake as she stares at the check I've written, eyes flicking between the paper and my face. Her lips part, close, then open again.

"Are you trying to bribe me?"

"No." The lie tastes bitter, like ashes on my tongue. "I'm simply a mother protecting her son from a mistake that could ruin his life. Cole has a bright future ahead of him. The death of his father has hurt him deeply. He's made mistakes since then."

"Mistakes?" Color floods her cheeks as she rises, trembling with fury.

"Are you calling this child a mistake? I'm pregnant with your grandchild!

" For a moment, she stares at the check before tearing it into tiny pieces that flutter to the floor like snow.

Like the confetti that rained down after Cole's first major performance.

"Cole was right about his family. My child deserves better than a grandmother like you. Goodbye, Mrs. Walker." She storms toward the door.

"Miss Davis?" She freezes, hand on the doorknob as I approach. My voice is soft now, reasonable. A mother's voice. "I love my son and will do anything to protect him. Think about my offer. You'll understand it's best for both of you." I hold out my card. "Sleep on it for a few days."

She snatches the card from my hand and disappears, leaving me alone with the weight of what I've done. My feet carry me back to the piano, to Gregory's photo. My fingers clamp around the frame as I stare into those ocean-bright eyes I loved so much. Eyes Cole inherited. Eyes this child might have.

"I'll protect our son, Gregory. I promise." My voice breaks. "Even if he hates me for it. Even if..."

The torn pieces of the check mock me from the floor. Fifty thousand dollars. Such a small price to pay to keep my son's future intact. To keep him with me.

Please forgive me, Gregory. Please understand. I can't lose him too.

* * *

Cole

Jessica came to Boston to tell me she was pregnant!

The words explode in my mind like shrapnel, tearing through everything I thought I knew. I stare at my mother, this woman who raised me, who shaped me, who betrayed me in ways I'm only beginning to understand.

"Jessica came here. To this house?"

"Y-yes. I-I'm sorry." Her voice trembles, but the words ring hollow, like every other apology she's ever given me.

"No!" The word rips from my throat. "Don't say that. Don't apologize. Instead, explain what you did to convince Jessica not to inform me of her pregnancy. Tell me!"

My mother's eyes dart across my face, weary and frightened.

Like a cornered animal finally facing consequences.

"When I told her you weren't here, she asked when you would return.

I refused to give her that information. But then when I tried to close the door, she blurted out she was pregnant.

Shocked by her revelation, I let her in, and we had a conversation. "

My mind works in overdrive, pieces clicking into horrible place. Every phone call from Jessica playing back with new context. Her tears when she ended things. The way her voice broke when she said it was better this way. All lies. All orchestrated by my own mother.

"How did you persuade her to raise our child alone?"

Mother releases a trembling sigh. "I offered her a check. Which she didn't accept. She tore it up and left."

"She didn't take the check." My heart still beats, but against a chest that feels hollow. I narrow my eyes, tilting my head as I study the woman who raised me. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. After several swallows, she continues.

"But she called me two weeks later and told me she changed her mind."

"How much!"

She stares at the floor. When she hesitates, something in me snaps. Fifteen years of control, of manipulation, of lies - all of it crystallizes into this moment.

"How much, Mother?"

Her voice comes out barely above a whisper. "After she signed the confidentiality agreement, she received fifty thousand dollars."

My knees nearly buckle. Bile rises in my throat as I force out another question. "What did the contract say?"