Page 34 of Shot Through the Heart

I pause at the bottom, barely sparing Greyson a glance over my shoulder as I talk to him.

“I will email you tomorrow or Saturday to figure out a make-up event. Please close the door before you go.”

I don’t wait for an answer, trusting that he wouldn’t be that big of a dick to leave my door open, and head upstairs to take care of Harper.

ChapterTwelve

GREYSON

My feet feellike they’re bolted to the ground as I watch Stella disappear up the stairs carrying the kid.

The kid.

Stella has achildin her house. A really freaking young one at that. Like, that toddler might still be in diapers.

And there’s no doubt in my mind that the kid belongs to Stella. Even filled with tears, the quick glimpse of the little girl’s eyes when she saw me was the spitting image of Stella’s. I’d know that glimmering pale blue anywhere.

But there was still something that nagged at me as I watched the tearful interaction. There was a familiarity that struck me the second I saw the kid.

My gaze finally drifts from the empty staircase and lands on the wall across from the front door. A group of pictures is neatly hung around a rustic home sweet home sign. The sound of the door clicking shut behind me is what makes me realize I’m finally moving. I’m in a trance as I take in the photos in front of me and the longer I look, the more my suspicion grows.

There are pictures ranging from a newborn baby all the way through until ones that look more recent and the word “daughter” bounces around in my head.

As in…my daughter.

Tearing my eyes from the photos is difficult, but as I step into Stella’s living room, I’m only focused on getting all the information I can without storming upstairs and demanding answers.

I spot a bookshelf in the corner of the living room and start toward it. It’s a maze to get across the space without stepping on toys, but I manage. I’m mostly numb as I reach for the framed professional picture of the little girl.

She looks so much like me that it hurts.

Sitting on her couch isn’t something I remember doing. All I can do is study the picture and memorize every detail. In the back of my mind, I know I should let Stella know I’m still here. Maybe make some noise or something to get her attention.

But I don’t do anything except stare at the frame in my hands.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs finally pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. I couldn’t say how long I’ve been sitting here. When Stella steps off the last stair and moves toward the door, I notice she’s in different clothes.

“That’s our daughter.” I finally manage to say as Stella reaches for the deadbolt.

She whirls around, a startled yelp slipping free and her hand flying to her chest.

“What the fuck, Greyson? I thought you left.” She glances up the stairs, moving as if meaning to block them from me.

Anger simmers beneath my skin and I can’t stop it from bubbling out.

“How could you not tell me? I had every right to know. Instead, you left and hid her from me?—”

“Keep your voice down. She just fell back to sleep,” Stella snaps, her voice just above a whisper but somehow still scolding enough to feel as if she’s yelling back. “And I did not hide anything from you!”

“Then what the hell do you call her?” I hold up the picture frame. Everything feels wrong. My heart won’t stop pounding and my stomach feels like I just spent six hours spinning in circles on my skates.

Stella crosses the living room toward me, dodging toys without even looking where she’s stepping, and snatches the picture from my hands. “That is my daughter.”

“Ourdaughter,” I correct. “The one youhid from me.”

“I didn’t hide anything!”

“Stella, there is a little girl, who looks a lot like me, upstairs. You didn’t tell me about her. That means you kept her a secret.” I seethe, but Stella doesn’t flinch.

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