Page 88 of Bad & Bossy

I had a question, and a sinking stone in my stomach that knew the answer.

Chapter 31

Cole

Iknew the moment I locked eyes with Dana.

I couldn’t run from it anymore.

Every part of me stilled despite Drew’s laughter. Every part of me locked up like a stone, falling from way too high, seconds from shattering on the pavement.

A nurse slid past Dana, barely moving her. “We need to do an X-ray on little Andrew to check on the pneumonia, see if it is improving. Do you two mind stepping out for a moment?” she asked me, and I could see the anger in Dana that they asked me instead of her.

“That’s up to his mother,” I said, nodding toward Dana as I carefully climbed off the bed.

I made my way to her side, already knowing where this was going, before excusing myself to the hallway. A sheen of sweat coated my skin in an instant, and the moment Dana mumbled that’s fine to the nurse and shut the door behind her, I wanted to run.

But I didn’t. For her, I didn’t.

She swallowed as she took a step toward me, backing me further into the quiet recess at the end of the hall. Her chin held high, her shoulders back, she looked as if she was preparing herself for a war she didn’t want.

“Where were you?” she asked, and the words felt less like venom and more like ice as they crawled through me. “When you left, where were you?”

This wasn’t the right time. Not when Drew was still sick, not with her parents still somewhere nearby. It was all wrong.

Half-truths. “Colchester Ski Resort,” I said, the words falling from me too quickly, too suddenly.

“You were skiing?”

“I was hiding,” I admitted.

She swallowed again, her confidence solidified. “You’ve been drinking.”

And there it was. My worst fucking nightmare.

“Cole.”

“I’d tell you if I had.” Wrong fucking answer, idiot. You’ll have to fess up eventually. “I wasn’t.”

“Please don’t lie to me right now,” she said, and my chest fucking ached. Little tears, leftover from when she’d entered the room, dripped from the corners of her eyes.

I need a drink.

I blinked, and I was angry.

When did I become angry?

“I need the truth,” she begged, and I fucking snapped.

“The truth?” I scoffed. I leaned in a little closer, and if I’d had a drink in the last forty-eight hours, she would have smelled it. “Don’t I deserve the truth as well?”

Her brows knitted together as she leaned back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Is he or is he not my son?”

Her eyes blew wide as she took a step back, the question catching both of us off guard. I couldn’t remember when I’d concluded that I more than likely was Drew’s dad. I’d seen his paperwork, seen the absent information under father. But it was more of a feeling.

“Don’t talk to me about the truth,” I continued, pulling myself from her personal space.

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