Page 36 of Caleb

Caleb muttered something under his breath, but Taylor ignored it, too focused on the little boy in her arms.

Hours later, the hospital room was quiet, save for the soft beep of the monitor tracking Liam’s vitals. After the doctors administered treatment, his breathing had returned to normal, and he now slept peacefully, his face pale but calm.

Taylor sat beside him, her hand wrapped around his small one, her mind reeling with the weight of the day’s events. She’d never felt so helpless, so terrified.

Caleb stood by the window, staring out at the parking lot below. His silence was unnerving, and Taylor braced herself for what was coming.

Finally, he turned, his expression a mix of frustration and something she couldn’t quite name. “He’s allergic to strawberries.”

“I figured that out,” she snapped, her nerves still raw. “Thanks for the update, Dr. Burnett.”

Caleb’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he crossed his arms, his gaze sharp. “Taylor, I’m serious. I was allergic to strawberries when I was a kid. So allergic that my mom couldn’t keep them in the house.”

The words hit her like a jolt, her mind spinning as she stared at him. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying it’s not a coincidence,” Caleb said, stepping closer. “Taylor, is he mine?”

Her heart stopped, the question hanging in the air like a loaded gun. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, her throat tight as a thousand emotions surged at once—fear, guilt, anger.

“Answer me,” Caleb said, his voice softer now but no less insistent. “Is Liam my son?”

The fragile trust they had spent weeks rebuilding shattered in the blink of a single strawberry. The secret she had guarded so fiercely, the one she had convinced herself was for the best, dissolved in the golden light of the afternoon.

And now, Caleb stood before her, his anger barely contained, his eyes demanding answers—answers she knew he deserved but had been too afraid to give. Answers she should have told him long ago.

Taylor looked down at Liam, her fingers brushing his curls. She couldn’t lie—not anymore.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Caleb’s breath hitched, his hands dropping to his sides. For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze fixed on Liam as if seeing him for the first time.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked finally, his voice raw.

All the emotions she had buried—the pain of Caleb’s abrupt departure, the shock of finding out she was pregnant, and the crushing realization that he wasn’t coming back—came rushing at her like a tidal wave. Her throat tightened, her breath catching as the memories threatened to pull her under.

And now, after all this time, he stood before her, demanding to know why she hadn’t told him. The sheer audacity of it made her anger flare, clashing with the guilt she’d carried for years. Did he really think it had been that simple? That she could just pick up the phone and tell him after he had already left her broken and alone?

“Because you left,” Taylor said, her voice trembling as she met his gaze. “You left, Caleb. Without a word, without an explanation. When you finally called me back, it was to end our relationship.”

“I would’ve come back,” he said, his voice breaking slightly.

“Would you?” Taylor shot back, anger flaring now. “You didn’t care enough to stay. You didn’t even care enough to say good-bye. So, forgive me if I didn’t think you were ready to be a father.”

"I deserved to know I had a child," he said, his voice low but trembling with restrained anger. His eyes bored into hers, demanding an explanation, demanding answers that she wasn’t sure she could give.

"And I deserved to know why you left," she shot back, her voice shaking as all the hurt and anger she’d buried for years resurfaced, bitter and sharp, like biting into a piece of fruit gone bad.

"I was heartbroken, pregnant, andalone," she said quietly, the words heavy with the weight of years gone by. Her gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet his as the memories pressed against her, raw and unrelenting.

Caleb flinched, the truth of her words hitting him squarely.

“If you weren’t able to talk about why you were ending our relationship, then how did I know you were ready to become a father?”

“You’re right. I wasn’t ready,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “But I’m here now, Taylor. I want to be here. For you. For him.”

Her emotions were a tangled mess of anger, hope, and fear. She wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that he’d changed, that he was ready—but the scars he’d left behind weren’t so easily healed.

“This isn’t something you can fix with promises, Caleb,” she said, her voice steadier now. “Being his father means showing up. Every day. It means putting him first, no matter what.”

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