Page 243 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set
We even have a child….except Chance doesn’t know the child exists.
Still, nothing is as it seems. We know each other, the youthful versions of ourselves. But there are years, well over a decade, of time where we didn’t know anything about each other.
Chance is an open book. He’s been here this whole time. Working the land that looks exactly the same as when I left.
Me? I’m different. I’m not the same, naive girl I once was. I have raised a boy. Lived my life. And now? I’m the one with secrets. With the one and only thing that is a part of both of us. It should bring us together, but my stomach churns with doubt. I think Grady just might tear us apart.
Not Grady himself. Chance will adore his son. He’ll want to be a part of his life.
But he’ll be so angry. Angry that I kept him from his child.
Now that I’m with Chance—and I know he didn’t write that letter—I don’t want to let him go.
My mother told me it was best to not tell him about Grady, and I believed her. I was a scared teenager, looking to her for guidance and support. What did I know about being a mom? How could I raise a child who was so perfect and beautiful but at the same time a haunting memory of the man who didn’t want me?
But we did it together. Mom and I both went to college, arranging our classes so that someone was always home with Grady.
And eventually, I moved forward. I never forgot Chance Bridger—how could I when every day I saw the miniature version of him?—but I agreed with my mother. Grady was mine. Chance had dumped me in the cruelest way possible, and he didn’t deserve to know his son. I even worried that if he knew, he might try to take him from me.
I wasn’t the girl from the wrong side of the tracks any longer, but no one can compete with the Bridger money. When money talks, things happen. Like a child being given to the father.
Except…
Chance didn’t write that letter.
And I’ve kept him from his son.
I tiptoe out of bed and head into Chance’s bathroom. I inhale. It smells like him, like the outdoors with a touch of cinnamon and mint. I peek into his shower. Rosemary mint shampoo. No wonder his hair smells so good. The toilet lid is covered in forest green, and I sit down, letting my head fall into my hands.
I have no idea what time it is, but through the bathroom window I can see the translucent orange-purple of the Montana dawn. Time to get up. I have to get back to the motel, gather everything together.
Jarvis and I leave this afternoon, back to our home office in Phoenix.
The only reason we got this assignment is because the central office put out a memo asking if any field agents had any connection to Bayfield, Montana. McGuinness answered the call on my behalf. I didn’t have a choice. I had to take the case.
I had to come back.
I draw in a breath.
I’m lying. I’m lying to myself, and it’s got to stop. McGuiness would have let me off, especially if I’d been up front about my past with Chance. He wouldn’t have wanted me involved in a case where I had a child with one of the suspects. If Chance had been the killer, my connection alone would have blown the entire prosecution.
I chose not to tell my boss the truth, just like I didn’t tell Chance. I chose to come here, to dredge up my past. Did I expect to fall into bed with him again? No. Did I expect my feelings to resurface, the ones that never really went away? No.
I came anyway. I agreed to it because I wanted to see Chance Bridger, and this case gave me the perfect opportunity. I would have never come on my own, but even after all these years, I wanted to confront him about the past, ask him why he’d been so malicious.
Except he hadn’t been. It was all a lie.
And I’m continuing to lie.
A soft knock on the door. “Kitten?”
I grab some toilet paper and wipe the tears from my eyes. “Yeah?”
“You okay?” he calls through the closed door.
“I’m fine. What time is it?”
“Six thirty.” He chuckles. “I overslept.”
