Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(37)

Memphis sat straighter, her eyes widening. “You have a child?”

I gave her a sad smile. “No.”

“Oh, God.” Her hand came to her mouth.

“It’s not what you think. Gianna has a child. A son. His name is Jadon.”

“But . . . he’s not yours?”

“Thought he was mine. We started dating and she got pregnant. Neither of us expected it, certainly wasn’t planned, but we made the best of it. Gianna moved in. I went to the doctors’ appointments. Tagged names in the baby-name book. Helped her decorate the nursery in our cramped apartment. Held her hand through labor.”

“You were the dad.”

“I was the dad. After we got home from the hospital, I spent long nights walking the baby back and forth across the apartment.”

Just like I’d done for Drake.

“That was your look.” Memphis’s eyes softened. “When you’d come over at night, there were times you looked miserable. Just for a second. This is why.”

“Yes.” I hadn’t realized she’d noticed. But I was learning that Memphis didn’t miss much. “Jadon was two weeks old when it all fell apart. Gianna took him in for a doctor’s appointment. I came home from work four days later and she told me that he wasn’t mine.”

Memphis gasped. “Knox.”

Gianna had dropped a bomb on my life and everything had exploded. After a long day, I’d come home, dead on my feet, and found Gianna on the couch. Jadon had been asleep. I’d sat beside her, instantly knowing something was wrong. And then she’d looked at me with tears in her eyes. She’d apologized first.

Then she’d taken my son. She’d changed my life.

“She cheated. At the beginning of our relationship, she slept with a guy she knew from college. She suspected Jadon might not be mine but chose not to say anything. She told me she’d hoped I was the father. But then he was born and . . . she wanted the truth.”

Memphis’s hand closed over mine. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” I whispered. “I haven’t talked about Gianna in a long time.”

“I get that. It’s painful to dredge up the past.”

“Is that why you don’t talk about yours?”

“Yes.” It was only one word, but there was a plea for me not to ask. Not yet.

“I would have stayed in San Francisco,” I told her. “Been there for Jadon. But Gianna and I were done, and she made the decision that if we weren’t going to stay together, it was better to call it quits. She moved out. And I . . .”

“Came home.”

“Yeah. I came home.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Five years.”

“Have you spoken to her?”

I shook my head. “There’s nothing to say. And I needed to leave that behind.”

Memphis studied the carpet for a long moment, my story heavy in the air. “Then where does that leave us?”

“I was hoping you had that answer.”

Her chocolate eyes met mine. “I don’t have a lot of answers these days.”

“Getting attached to you is risky. Getting attached to him is . . .” I swallowed hard. “It’s petrifying.”

“If it hurts. If it’s petrifying . . .” A crease formed between her eyebrows. “Why did you come to the loft? Why do you keep coming?”

I lifted a shoulder. “I can’t seem to stop.”

“Do you want to?”

I lifted my hand, tucking that stubborn lock of hair away once more. “No.”





CHAPTER ELEVEN





MEMPHIS





Knox’s story kept spinning in my head, like a book or movie I couldn’t stop replaying.

He’d gone through a pregnancy. He’d watched the birth of his child. He’d been a father. Then in an instant, his baby had been gone, ripped from his life.

I ached for him. I raged for him. In the hours since I’d been home, my emotions had been riding a rollercoaster.

Knox and I had sat in the hotel room earlier, shrouded in silence until finally he’d brushed his lips to mine in a chaste kiss and left without another word.

Drake let out a string of babbles from his play mat. The oohs and aahs and guhs were coming more often these days.

I stretched out beside him, watching him kick his legs and work his arms. Above him, the mobile of safari animals smiled and swung as he hit one with a fist.

He smiled.

I smiled.

He cooed.

I cooed, mimicking his sound.

The idea of someone taking him away made my stomach churn. How Knox had endured it, how he’d walked away . . .

I pressed a hand to my heart and stared at my son.

We were still navigating through rough waters. Drake and I were close to drowning more often than not. Just last night I’d nearly cracked and answered my phone.

Then Knox had kissed me and as much as I wanted to say it had helped, that kiss had just sent me careening over a waterfall.

The imprint of his large hands lingered on my cheeks. The soft pressure of his lips. The sweep of his tongue.

A kiss to change a life. Or destroy one.

Beyond the windows, the sky was darkening, the Montana days growing shorter and shorter as winter approached. A flash of light had me shooting off the floor and tiptoeing to the glass. The hum of the garage opening below the loft rippled beneath my feet as Knox’s truck eased into the driveway and into its stall beside the Volvo.