Page 27 of Tangled Desires

I don’t answer right away. Instead, I step into his open arms, breathing in the familiar scent of oil and sawdust, letting the steadiness of his hug ground me. My chest tightens in a way I can’t ignore.

“Come inside,” I say, pulling back. “We need to talk.”

The teaspoon clinks against my mug, breaking the silence at the table. Dad made us black tea—mine with one sugar and a touch of honey, just how I like it—but I haven’t touched it. My hands curl around the warm mug, but it’s not doing its usual trick of making everything seem manageable. He sits there, quiet, watching, waiting. Too quiet. When Dad’s this silent, you know he’s gearing up for something serious. His steady presence has always been a comfort, but now it feels like I’m holding my breath, waiting for the hammer to drop.

Finally, he looks up, eyes sharp, voice low. “So... what’s your plan?”

The question lands heavy between us. I open my mouth, but the words stick. Plans always sound solid in your head until someone asks you to say them out loud. I draw in a breath, steadying my voice. “I’m keeping it. I’ll figure out the rest as I go.”

He nods, his gaze steady. “That boy who was here earlier... He the father?”

My stomach twists. That boy. Harrison’s about as far from a boy as you can get. All man, in every sense of the word. Still, I nod, not trusting my voice to stay steady. Dad leans back, armscrossed, his sigh filled with years of wisdom I both appreciate and sometimes resent. “Imogen, this won’t be easy. You’re strong—you’ve always been strong—but you don’t have to do this alone. You’ve got me. Always.”

There’s a pause, his gaze softening but no less serious. “If he wants to step up, you let him. It’s his responsibility, too. I don’t want your child growing up with the kind of gaps you had. If I’ve learned one thing from my own mistakes, it’s that I can’t change the past. But I can teach you to learn from it.”

His words hit like a punch to the chest. I don’t need to look hard to see the regret behind them. He doesn’t say it often, but it’s always there, a shadow of everything he wishes he could’ve done differently.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I’m always right, pumpkin.”

The corners of my mouth twitch into a reluctant smile as he squeezes my hand. But then he leans in, his expression turning serious again. “I want him over for dinner. Formal. I need to meet him properly.”

My head snaps up. “Harrison? No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. It’s necessary.” His tone brooks no argument. “Get him over here. I’ll even cook.”

I grit my teeth. The idea of Harrison and Dad in the same room? Awful. The reality of asking Harrison to show up for a formal family dinner? Worse.

“Fine.” I mutter. “I’ll let you know when.”

He nods, satisfied, while I stew silently. This is exactly why I wanted to keep everything on my terms. Now everyone’s involved, making decisions I haven’t even had time to process.

One problem at a time, Imogen.

9

Break Me - elijah

“Have you heard from her lately?” Isla asks, casual as anything.

“Who?” It’s automatic. Stupid.

She’s in full multitask mode—grabbing glasses, filling a jug, Callie’s little babbles spilling out of the lounge. There’s that faint clink of dishes and this low hum from somewhere—probably the fridge. Why does their fridge hum? Should I check my fridge? Fuck, I forgot milk again. Isla cuts me a look, sharp enough to snap me back. It’s the weekend, and we just got back from shopping for furniture—Xav’s idea, not mine.

“You know who. Imogen.”

My chest tightens at the mention of her name, like a screw being turned too far. Her name just... lingers. Before I can slam on the brakes, words tumble out. “No. Should I have? Is she alright?”

Isla laughs. Not a mean laugh, more like I’m adorable for freaking out. “Relax. She’s fine. Just wondering if you’ve spoken to her. You know,friends.”

Friends. Sure. That’s the word we’re going with? My brain is running laps—she’s fine, she said she’s fine on her own, so I’m giving her the space she wants. Needs? Whatever. Why am I this spun out? Just friends. That’s what she wants. That’s what I’m giving her. But I don’t want to give her just that.

More than just one night.Was that a mistake? I mean... she’s pregnant with my kid. Holy shit. She’s pregnant with my child. This is crazy, right?

Isla snaps her fingers in front of my face, bringing me back. “Hello? You just spaced out. I didn’t worry you too much, did I?”

“Huh? Oh, no.” I shake my head, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s just... a lot.”

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