Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(24)

“There we go,” Knox murmured, his hand splayed on the baby’s back. The broad shoulder, the hum of our conversation, worked like a charm on Drake every time.

“Shouldn’t it be me who makes him stop crying?” The admission slipped from my lips before I could stop it. Guilt and shame clouded my voice. It should be me, shouldn’t it?

Drake was mine.

“You are.” Knox paused in front of me, towering over me with my tiny son in his massive arms. “You let me in the door, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Maybe motherhood wasn’t always being the person your child leaned on, but finding the person they needed when you weren’t enough. For Drake’s sake, for him to get some rest, I’d set aside my pride and let Knox step in to help.

The woman who actually earned his strong arms for real hugs would be a lucky, lucky girl. I snuggled deeper into my blanket, curling my legs beneath me as I followed Knox’s every step.

Exhaustion was a constant companion to my waking moments. The only reason I was able to keep my eyes open was because the picture of Knox and Drake was one I didn’t want to miss. It was the reason I chose the couch over snuggling into bed.

Watching them together was a dream. A fantasy of a different life had I made better choices.

Drake had stopped crying and was moments away from sleep. This interlude was nearly over. For my son’s sake, I was grateful. For mine . . .

It would be difficult to close the door behind Knox when he left.

A yawn stretched my lips and I waved it off. “Sorry.”

“Now you’re apologizing for yawning?” He shot me a grin as he passed the couch.

“My father once scolded me for yawning during a meeting.

I apologized then and haven’t stopped since.”

It was the first time I’d mentioned my father aloud. For over a month, I’d kept my past locked away. I’d dodged questions about my family and the reasons why I’d moved across the country. Sleep deprivation had caused my walls to drop.

Or maybe it was just Knox. He shared freely. He made me want to do the same.

“Seriously?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“You don’t talk about your family.”

“I don’t talk about much.”

“This is true.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “Where are your parents?”

I sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “I figured you’d ask eventually. But I haven’t figured out how to answer that question yet.”

“It’s a simple question, Memphis.”

“Then the simple answer is New York.”

“What’s the complicated answer?”

“The truth makes my family seem . . . ugly.” As frustrated as I was with them, I didn’t want strangers to think they were bad people. They were who they were. Distant. Self-absorbed.

Proud. They were the product of their surroundings and extreme, selfish wealth.

Once, I hadn’t been all that different. Maybe they were ugly. But their awful actions had been the catalyst to my change. Because of them, I would be a better person. Despite them.

Knox walked to the door, pausing beside his discarded tennis shoes. “Better let me be the judge.”

I glanced to the clock on the microwave. “This isn’t really a conversation for two oh seven in the morning.”

He crossed the room, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch with my son asleep on his chest. “Are they less ugly during the day?”

“No,” I whispered. “My father never held Drake. You’re the only man to ever carry him in your arms.”

A crease formed between his eyebrows. “Did he . . .”

“Die? No. He’s very much alive. My parents, my dad in particular, doesn’t approve of my choices. He sets the tone for our family, and when I refused to do things his way, he disowned me. My mother, my sister and my brother followed suit. Though it doesn’t really matter because I disowned them too.”

Knox studied my face. “What do you mean, they disowned you?”

“I worked for my dad. He fired me. I was living in one of their Manhattan townhouses. Drake was four weeks old when his attorney served me my thirty-day eviction notice. My grandparents set up trust funds for each of their grandchildren but required my father be the conservator until we turned thirty. I went in to take out some money so I could move and Dad denied the bank from granting me any withdrawals. He left me with nothing but the money I had in my own bank account and my final paycheck.”

“Are you fucking serious? Why?”

“He wants to know who Drake’s father is. I refuse to tell him. I refuse to tell anyone.” There was a hidden warning in my tone, that if Knox asked, I’d deny him an answer. “Dad didn’t like being told that it was none of his business. But there’s a reason why no one knows who Drake’s father is. I plan to keep it that way.”

Knox leaned forward, his hold on Drake tightening. “Is there something I need to know?”

“No. He’s gone from my life.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.” I had a signed document to prove it. “My dad thought he’d call my bluff. That if he made my life hard enough, I’d tell him everything he wanted to know. That he could continue to pull my strings and I’d dance as one of his little puppets. I’m twenty-five, not sixteen. My decisions are my own. My secrets are my own.”