Page 32 of Damned
“But I—”
“Shhhhh!”
Wow, she had no idea a man could make a shush sting. Her ears rang from the vehemence in that command. Bree sealed her lips, needing Kruze to know the whole story before he turned away and ran from a lifetime of child support.
The thought of him rejecting his sweet little daughter, though, ripped Bree’s heart out. Just one nasty word out of his mouth, one single breath of denial, and Kruze would never, ever see Robin. Bree would make darned sure of it. She hadn’t needed financial support from him so far; she wouldn’t need it tomorrow. Robin already had a college fund, courtesy of Bree’s thoughtful mom and dad, and her employer-provided health and life insurance. Come to think of it, Bree didn’t need Kruze in her life at all. At least, not his money.
“Can I meet her?” he asked quietly, the cords of his neck standing taut and hard in the shadows. “You said we made a little girl. Will you let me meet her?”
Bree cocked her head, not sure she’d heard right. “What?!”
“Can I meet my little girl? Please?”
She’d mentally prepared for a long, bloody war over child support, but Kruze had effectively jerked the self-righteous rug out from under her. She was the one blinking now, trying like hell to catch up with him. “You want to meet her?” she asked, like a wide-eyed dolt with no brains to back up her big mouth.
“Yes, please. I do.” His head bobbed. “Tonight. Right now. Why not? Am I too late? Is she already in bed or s-s-something?”
That boyish stutter was Bree’s undoing. Somehow, Kruze had jumped past denial and leaped straight into acceptance. He believed everything she’d told him, hadn’t protested at all. Hadn’t called her a liar or told her to prove it. He hadn’t suggested she take a DNA test or insinuated that she slept around. Which Bree had never. He just wanted to meet the child he’d helped create. His child. The little girl he had every right to meet.
Oh, Lord. Bree hadn’t anticipated this calm, reasonable response in any of her wildest dreams. Frightened, she backed against the passenger door and put her knee between Kruze and her, keeping her distance. Was he calm because he planned to take Robin from her? Could he do that? He was actually more mentally stable. It was possible.
“What’s her name?” Kruze asked quietly, his brows lifted, his tone pleading. “My daughter. What’s she look like? How old is she? Three and what? A couple months? When’s her birthday? Let me think…” He was rapidly doing the math.
“Three, yes.” Bree nodded at the man she didn’t know at all. The brash, brave former SEAL, who’d rescued her from Josephus, who’d carried her up mountains, doctored, and fed her, was counting on his fingers.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. Paris was four years ago, July. One, two, three…She’s three years and three months old, isn’t she? Oh, my hell, you were in Turkey for her third birthday. You were in that damned hole! I’m… I’m so sorry. Jesus…” Those beautiful green eyes held a wealth of regret. “Is she smart and pretty like you? Or is she a dumbass like me? Is she… is she healthy? Does she have all her fingers and toes? Talk to me.”
Bree’s worry breathed out of her on a sigh. None of her wild imaginings had come true. Kruze was not the monster her sleepless nights and worries had turned him into. Not at all.
“You’re not a dumbass, honey, and her name’s Robin, and yes, she’s got all ten toes and fingers. She’s perfect, and I named her after my mother, well, not exactly. But Mom’s name is Lark, so I named Robin after a bird, too, because—”
Kruze reached for Bree.
She ducked, fully expecting a slap, not that he’d ever hit her. But Josephus had. His women had. And PTSD made sure she never forgot.
He froze, his open palm suspended in the space between them, his tongue slipping over his bottom lip. “Don’t be afraid of me, Bree. Please. I’ve never hit you, not once. I’m not that kind of guy.”
“I know, I know,” she whined. “It’s not you. It’s… it’s just reflex.” Man, it was so hard to swallow. Her saliva glands had dried up. “I can’t help myself.”
His hand went to his thigh. Kruze was having a hard time swallowing, too.
“I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you about Robin a long time ago.”
He cocked his head, the sparkle in his eyes, if there still was one, lost in the shadow of the parking lot light that had just come on behind him. “I would never hit you, Bree. Ever,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry, too. You’re right, I did leave early that morning. I was an ass to do that. But I was only in Paris one night, and I had an early flight to catch, and… I wish I’d at least told you goodbye. I should’ve left a note. But I also wish you’d found a way to tell me you were pregnant. I mean, I am her dad, and…”
Bree squeezed her eyes to stop the tears. Lord, this man was something else. Kruze hadn’t even said,‘if she is my child.’Just jumped straight to,‘I am her dad.’All these years of anticipating a war with him were just—gone. He’d stolen the wind out of her angry sails. “I didn’t know how to reach you.”
“But you should’ve tried.”
“I gave you my business card. You never gave me anything.”
“Except a baby.”
“You know what I mean. You left me, Kruze. I didn’t leave you. At least you had my work number. Why didn’tyoucall?”
That gulp she heard for sure. Kruze ran a hand over his head. “Because I’m a stupid guy?” His reply was a timid question. “And I travel a lot, you know that. Don’t even know where I put that card. Even back then, I never knew when I’d be tagged for overseas business. I told you…” There went his hand again, ruffling through his hair and over his head like it was one of those magic eight balls that could help him come up with the right answer. “Kee-rist, I don’t remember what I told you. It’s not like you were the first—”
Bree put a hand in his face. “Stop,” she ordered. “I don’t care how many notches are on your bedpost. This is not about you or me. This is about you doing what’s right for your daughter’s sake. She’s the only one who counts. I don’t want anything from you, b-b-but whatever you want to give Robin, I would hope it comes from your heart, not from some stupid judge’s order or a lawyer or… or… your twisted idea of accepting responsibility or…” Bree dashed a hand over her teary eyes before she blubbered anymore. She was making a mess of everything, wasn’t sure what she was saying. Kruze hadn’t intimated pursuing any of the arguments she’d just tossed at him. Why had she? Because he’d left her alone, darn it. Alone and pregnant. He’d walked out on her without a backward glance. When she’d needed him most, he wasn’t there!
