Page 12 of Wylder Ranch
“A little over six weeks. Her birthday is September twentieth.”
My throat thickens immediately, and my gaze flashes to hers, checking to see if any part of her is lying. Not that she could possibly know that date is also my father’s birthday.
That I know exactly where I’ve been every single year on September twentieth.
“I called you. I left a dozen messages, Haven?—”
“I know,” she replies, doing her best to concentrate on me while also calming her daughter.Ourdaughter.
Nope. No way. I’m not a father. This isn’t going to be Hendricks all over again. Years and years of court battles to gain custody of his son, with a woman who only wanted his money. My anger at having been ghosted bubbles up to the surface again.
“You call me back, you don’t turn up at my home with a fucking baby.”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what else to do,” she sobs. Tears pool in her eyes and spill down her cheeks as I glare at her.
I’m too mad to have sympathy. Mad and hurt. Anddeafonce the screaming reaches an ear-piercing level.
I need space. To think. To figure out what to do.
Whatthe fuckam I going to do?
But sitting here watching Haven’s silent tears and Everly’s not-so-silent ones won’t help me figure it out. It’s only going to make me feel guilty. And right now, feeling guilty is the last thing I want.
I already have enough guilt to last me a lifetime. I’m well practiced.
Jumping up, I ignore the way Haven startles. Ignore everything.
Staring down at her, the urge to wrap my arms around her is still too strong, but instead, I say, “I can’t do this right now.”
My daughter’s cries ring in my ears as I leave as quickly as I can, hurrying around the corner. Even after they’re well out of earshot, I can somehow still hear them.
Everly.Haven’s baby.
Fuck.
My daughter.
CHAPTER 4
Haven
Iwatch Alex’s broad back disappear around the bend in the road and slump into the spot he vacated on the fountain wall. I barely notice the spray of water hit my head, dampening my hair.
I wait for the onslaught of tears, the urge to cry at what could only be described as a disastrous meeting, but nothing comes.
Did I think he was going to jump for joy? No. But I also didn’t picture him storming off either.
Or be quite so angry. It might have taken me a couple of months to get used to the idea myself, but anger was never an emotion I felt. Denial, yes. Frustration, also yes. Despair, definitely.
But never anger.
I’m ruminating on what to do while trying to quiet my screaming daughter when a car drives past us, its back wheels clipping the large puddle in the middle of the street and spraying me with dirty rainwater.
Great. Just great.
The absurdity of the morning hits me, and I bark out a laugh before I can stop it.
It’s loud enough that it shocks Everly into silence, but only for a moment, because once she realizes nothing’schanged and she’s still hungry, her little cry is louder than ever.
