Page 29 of The Keeper

“How many times have I told you to buckle her in?” Piper whisper-yelled through clenched teeth.

Before she could respond, another nurse entered the room, carrying a small silver instrument tray. “Looks like Mom and Dad made it here in the nick of time.”

“Absolutely not!” Piper’s mother interjected. “He is not her father.”

I imagined her face was screwed up like she’d been sucking on lemons, but I wasn’t looking at her. I was staring at Piper, who suddenly refused to meet my gaze.

The sudden tension in the room was suffocating, leaving my fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch her—to force her to look me in the eye.

“Okay,” the nurse conceded before checking the white plastic bracelet around Avery’s ankle. “And Avery’s date of birth?”

“February 17, 2024,” Piper replied automatically before awareness dawned on her face, and her eyes widened in horror.

I did the math in my head, counting backward from Avery’s birthdate to our night together. A wave of cold realization washed overme when I realized the timing was too perfect, too damning to be anything other than what it was.

Avery was mine.

My daughter.

TEN

GHOST

Ivy & Piper’s Guide to Life Rule Number Twelve:

There are always strings attached.

“Holy fuck,” I whispered, the room spinning around me. The nurse continued to ask a series of questions about Avery’s medical history and allergies, but my heart thundered against my ribcage so loudly it drowned out every other sound.

The heel of my boot connected with a stool, sending it crashing into the wall with a loud clatter that set Avery off again.

“Dane, wait…” Piper’s voice broke as I staggered toward the door, her hand reaching for mine.

But I didn’t stick around to hear the rest. I couldn’t. The walls were suddenly too close, the floor beneath me giving way as the magnitude of the situation sank in.

My vision blurred as I stumbled out of the room and I had to stop and brace myself against the sterile white corridor wall for a few long seconds to catch my breath.

The maze of hallways we’d stormed through earlier now felt like an endless void where time didn’t exist. I moved in a daze, the security cameras overhead glaring down at me from every angle.

Daring me to cause a scene.

My hands were shaking—fuck, my whole body was shaking—but I couldn’t stop moving. Not yet. My legs carried me forward on autopilot, past the rows of people slumped over in waiting room chairs, past sick and crying children held tight against their parents’ chests.

I barely noticed as I strode through the automatic doors and into the fresh air, my chest heaving like I’d run a marathon.

February 17, 2024.

The date had detonated like a bomb, turning my mind into a goddamned war zone.

Blood roared in my ears as memories of our night together came flooding back—the way Piper’s body felt wrapped around me bare, falling asleep inside her despite knowing the risks. Yet when she told me she had a daughter, I hadn’t even considered the possibility.

But now, there wasn’t a goddamned doubt in my mind.

Avery was mine.

She might have had Piper’s eyes, but those red curls were identical to my mother’s.

I slammed my fist into a concrete pillar with a low growl, not caring who saw or heard me. My knuckles split open on impact, but it wasn’t enough to bleed away the rage coursing through my veins.

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