Page 43 of Mountain Daddy

She is. I can see it from here. Can see the way her pulse hammers in her throat.

“I'm fine, baby.” She kneels down, starts picking up ceramic pieces with trembling fingers. “Just clumsy.”

I move without thinking. Kneel beside her. Our hands brush as we both reach for the same shard.

Electric. Five years and she still burns like live wire.

“Let me,” I say quietly.

“No.” She jerks her hand back. “I've got it.”

But she doesn't. She's shaking too hard. Cuts her finger on a sharp edge.

“Shit,” she hisses, then glances at Chleo. “Sorry. Language.”

“It's okay, Mama. You're bleeding.”

I pull a handkerchief from my pocket. Clean white cotton. Reach for her hand.

She lets me. God knows why, but she lets me wrap the fabric around her finger.

Her skin is soft. Warm. Familiar.

I want to pull her against me. Want to demand answers. Want to ask her why she ran.

Why she has a kid that looks like me.

I can see it now. Clear as day.

The realization should terrify me. Should send me running.

Instead, it makes me want to hear what she has to say.

“There,” I say. Release her hand before I do something stupid.

Like kiss her. Like claim her. Like show Rosa and my son exactly what it means to call someone mine.

“Thank you,” Lilly whispers.

She stands. Backs away. Puts distance between us.

But there's nowhere to run. Not anymore.

I found her.

And I'm not letting her go again.

12

LILLY

This can’t be happening.

I’m twisting and turning inside.

And he’s here.

He found me.

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