Page 49 of Mountain Daddy

“Fuck,” I whisper when I can finally speak.

We dress in silence. My bra is destroyed, so I grab my spare apron and put it on over my shirt, tying it tight to cover myself.

“Now,” he says, straightening his tie like he didn't just fuck me senseless against a prep table. “Tell me what you're really doing here.”

The question hits like cold water. Brings reality crashing back.

“The city got expensive,” I lie, not meeting his eyes. “Small town seemed like a better place to raise a child.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“That's the truth.”

“Lilly.”

The warning in his voice makes me shiver. But I can't tell him the real reason. Can't admit I ran because I was terrified of what it would mean for our son.

“I have to get back to work,” I say, moving toward the door.

He catches my wrist. Gently. But firm enough to stop me.

“This isn't over.”

I pull free, walk past him into the main bakery. My legs are still shaking. My body still humming with satisfaction.

But my mind is clearer now. Focused.

He can't know about Chleo.

Because if he finds out, I know exactly what will happen.

He'll never let us go.

13

NIKOLAI

I'm waiting when she opens the bakery.

Seven a.m. sharp.

I've been here since six, leaning against the brick wall across the street. Watching. Learning her patterns.

She unlocks the front door. Flips the sign from “Closed” to “Open.”

She moves with routine, doing, not thinking. From a place of necessity, from a hard life without a second to spare.

She hasn't seen me yet. She’s too focused on getting through her morning checklist. Turning on the lights. Starting the coffee. Checking the display case.

I study her face through the window. The stress lines that weren't there five years ago. She’s been raising Chleoalone.

It’s bound to take a toll on a woman.

She could’ve come to me. Told me. Trusted me.

But she didn’t.

And ever since I laid eyes on that boy—withmyeyes,myscowl,myfire—I haven’t been able to stop thinking one thing.

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