Page 28 of The Last Promise You Made

She turned back to the Pac-Man machine and inserted a token. I made my way over to the staircase, and when I looked back, I saw her face in the reflection of the screen. She was watching me. My insides twisted again as I jogged up the stairs and into the kitchen.

I took Mama off mute and said, “Maddox called and needed me to come into town,” as I scoured my pantry and fridge.

“What’s wrong with Maddox? Is it Mila? McK?”

“No. Everyone is fine.” Except, everyone wasn’t. Ravyn was dead. Her child was lost and scared. I was a mess. I leaned my palms on the countertop and took in a huge breath, trying to steady the runaway feelings inside me. I finally admitted, “That’s not exactly true.”

“Ryder. You’re really worrying me here.”

I spilled everything—the letter, Addy, and why she was in danger with the Lovatos, along with how Gia was here, trying to untangle the web that surrounded the child. Well, I didn’t use Gia’s name. I couldn’t. My family had given me too much shit about her the last time she’d been here. Instead, I just ended with the fact that the undercover agent and Addy were both at my house.

Mama was mostly silent while I talked, exuding an exclamation or a garbled noise here and there, doing what my mother did best—listen with love.

I turned on the griddle and grabbed cheese, butter, and bread.

“I don’t know what to do,” I told her. “So, I’m making her grilled cheese because that’s pretty much the only food I have in the house and one of the few things I can cook.” I assembled three sandwiches, and set them on the stovetop before leaning back against the island and asking quietly, “What do I do?”

Mama’s voice was full of emotions when she answered, “Sounds like you’re already doing it, honey. You’re showing her she’s safe. Showing her she’ll be cared for.”

“But what if…” I wasn’t sure I could say it.

“What if she isn’t really yours?”

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure I could. Instead, I scrubbed a hand over my face and the layer of scruff I’d shaped into some sort of half-assed beard that morning.

“Do you ever think of Mila as anything but Maddox’s daughter?” Mama asked gently.

“No.” My response was instantaneous.

“Sounds like this little girl has lived through more than anyone should have to. Sounds like she needs a safe place to land. A place to be loved and cared for. And I know my son can give that to her.”

My throat just about closed. “I don’t know anything about raising a child. I don’t know how…”

“You do. You have so much love in that heart of yours. You’ve just locked it up for a while, and I understand why. But it’s time to open the door again.”

Silence followed. Her words felt eerily reminiscent of my thoughts since my talk with Sadie. What was really the truth? Was it that I didn’t know how or that I wasn’t willing to open myself up again? What if I fell in love all over again—this time with a child who got ripped away from me? When Ravyn had told me she was pregnant, I’d seen nothing more than a grayscale image of a bean growing inside her and had fallen head over heels. When I’d lost the baby, it had nearly destroyed me, and it had been nothing more than an image and an idea. What would I do if the reality of a living, breathing child was torn away?

“We’re all going to want to meet her,” Mama said.

“If everyone shows up at once, it’ll scare her.”

“We’ll ease her into the crowd one or two at a time. Dad and I will bring dinner over tonight.”

The relief that hit me at the idea of my parents coming over made me feel a bit cowardly. But having them there would be a buffer of sorts. Plus, it meant I didn’t have to figure out what to feed the two women who’d invaded my house with their intense presence.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“You want me to tell the girls?”

I’d known Mama would tell Dad. They didn’t keep secrets from each other. Growing up, we’d known if you told one, you were telling them both, but I hadn’t thought about telling Sadie and Gemma. The idea of having to repeat my story all over again was almost too much for me.

“That would be appreciated,” I answered.

“Okay. Go flip the sandwiches before you burn them. We’ll see you tonight.”

Shit. I turned back to the griddle, grabbed a spatula from the holder next to it, and turned the sandwiches. They were a little dark, but not burned.

“Mama,” I said.

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