Page 82 of Second Chance Daddy
Tina forces me to sit and wraps a blanket around my shoulders, even though I’m not cold. Beyond that, there’s nothing more to say.
I’ve never hated silence this much.
It’s everywhere. Thick. Smothering. The walls of this house press in closer with every minute that passes without my daughter in my arms.
The security guys hover outside like statues. Dante’s gone. Hunting. His promise still rings in my ears—I’ll bring her back.
God, I hope to hell he can.
I bring my knees to my chest, arms wrapped so tight around myself I might snap in half. My head keeps replaying every second—her little voice, her curls bouncing as she must have run outside, the stupid ball by the swing set.
I should’ve been awake. I shouldn’t have stayed up all night talking. I should have?—
“I need—” I hold back a sob. “I need to do something. Call the police. Put out an Amber Alert. I need to?—”
“Dante’s handling it,” Tina says, her hand reaching for mine. “He’s already got men at every exit point from the state. He’s got connections the police don’t. Trust me, Cass. Nobody finds people like my brother.”
What if whoever took her already hurt her? What if she’s scared, crying for me, wondering why Mommy isn’t coming?
“Breathe, Cass,” Tina whispers. “Look at me. Focus on me.”
I force my eyes to hers—the same startling blue-gray as Dante’s, as Aria’s—and something inside me cracks wide open.
“It’s my fault,” I choke out. “All of it. Everything.”
“It’s not,” she says firmly. “It’s Gino’s fault. Only his.”
I shake my head, tears burning trails down my cheeks. “No, you don’t understand. It’s not just about today. It’s everything. It’s years of lies, and I?—”
My throat closes. I never told Tina.God, she’s going to be so mad.
“You what?” She looks positively worried.
I stare at the floor. The knot in my chest tightens. I’ve dreaded this moment for three years.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” I whisper. “I never wanted to lie to you, Tina.”
“Uh-huh,” she deadpans, arching a brow.
I squeeze my knees tighter, pulse pounding. “It… it started when I was eighteen. That stupid summer when you dragged me to your parents’ lake house. You remember?”
Tina snorts. “Yeah, where Dante spent the whole trip glowering at the world like an emotionally unavailable statue? I thought you had a thing for him. Did you?”
My face burns. “Yeah. We kissed that night.”
Tina groans, scrubbing a hand down her face. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“We just kissed,” I blurt, words tumbling out, messy, desperate. “It was one stupid kiss, and I thought it meant nothing. I was young. I tried to forget about him.”
“Okay…?”
“But then… three years ago.” My chest tightens. Shame slams into me like a wave. “Remember the week I came back to prepare things for the big move once the divorce was finalized? We were at that bar getting drunk, and Dante came into town? Well, he walked me to the car.”
“I remember.”
“And I… we… slept together,” I whisper, the words tasting like acid. “It was just supposed to be that. One night.”
“You slept with my brother?” She makes a barf sound, and I brace myself to prepare for the anger. But what she says next floors me. “You could do so much better.”
