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  He’d been right. She had robbed him of something he couldn’t get back. Five precious years of their son’s life.

  Yes, she was glad he knew.

  She was also terrified.

  “Mommy,” Justice asked, stepping into the kitchen, fully dressed and teeth brushed, as she’d instructed him to do when she’d headed to the kitchen to start their breakfast. “Why are you head-butting the refrigerator?”

  Without lifting her forehead from the refrigerator door, she turned to glance at her son, who stared at her with big, curious eyes.

  “You look funny,” he informed her matter-of-factly, then turned towards the doorway. “I think Mommy is knocking some sense into the refrigerator, but I don’t know why. Sometimes mommies do silly things, but we kids love them anyway.”

  Her heart beating fast, forehead still pressed against the refrigerator, Brielle shifted her gaze to see who her son was talking to.

  “Morning,” Ross greeted her, looking way too handsome and relaxed compared to the restless night she’d spent. What had happened to the scowling, angry man who’d left her house only hours before?

  “Having a bad day?” he asked, gesturing to the refrigerator.

  She straightened, brushed her fingers through her hair, wished she’d taken time to actually dress, brush her hair and teeth, and throw on some mascara. Instead, she wore faded old pajama bottoms sporting cartoon penguins and a cotton-candy-pink T-shirt that had seen better days but was so comfy she kept wearing it anyway. She’d twisted her hair, haphazardly clipped it back, and wore stained fuzzy white slippers on her feet.

  Ross looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine advertising the perfect man. His T-shirt stretched perfectly over his chest and appeared to be of the softest cotton. His jeans fit so well they could have been custom made for his body. His hair was perfectly groomed, his eyes bright, and his smile relaxed and natural looking.

  Shouldn’t he look a bit harried? At least a little? Life could be so unfair.

  Oh, yeah, she was having a bad day.

  She forced a smile to her face. “Couldn’t be better.”

  “Denting refrigerators a part of your new usual morning wake-up ritual? Guess that’ll take me a while to get used to.”

  “Or not,” she countered with a glare.

  Ross gave her one sharp look, glanced toward their son who watched them closely, then smiled at her. A smile that was no more real than hers had been. His served as a warning that she somehow read just as clearly as she’d read him all those years ago, back before her pregnancy and their relationship had fallen apart.

  A smile that was for Justice’s benefit and to let her know he expected her to mind her Ps and Qs. Their son was watching with sharp little eyes, taking in every detail of their interaction.

  As contrary as she felt towards him, Ross was right.

  She had to put on a positive front for Justice’s benefit because how she interacted with Ross would influence how their son viewed him.

  Despite her many flaws, if Ross wanted to be a part of Justice’s life, she wanted that for her son’s sake. She knew the statistics of children who grew up without fathers. Yes, she did her best and Justice didn’t go without material needs or love and attention, but there were some things that, no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t do or be for her son.

  She pasted a very bright smile on her face and focused on what was most important in her life, her son. “You hungry, Bruce?”

  His confused expression relaxing, Justice nodded. He climbed up on the barstool next to the kitchen counter that extended from the sink and was open on both sides of the eat-in kitchen/dining area combo room. He usually perched at the counter, coloring, drawing, or working on a jigsaw puzzle while chatting to her as she prepared their meals. Sometimes he helped.

  Ignoring that Ross walked over and sat in the second barstool next to Justice, Brielle began taking items out of the fridge and setting them on the countertop.

  “My daddy is hungry, too,” Justice said matter-of-factly. “He’s been away working for a very long time, but he’s back now and he’s very hungry so he needs breakfast too.”

  My daddy?

  Brielle dropped the carton of eggs she was holding.

  She’d wondered how they’d tell Justice, how they’d explain who Ross was and why he was living with them. She’d planned to talk to him about letting Justice get to know him before springing something so huge on the boy.

  Obviously, Ross had taken matters into his own hands and dropped the bomb on their son.

  Shaking, not wanting Justice to see her face, she stooped to clean up the eggs, paused when Ross’s hand covered hers. Tumultuous emotions swirling all through her, she lifted her gaze to his. Could he see how upset she was that he’d taken the liberty of telling Justice? She hoped so. She hoped a lot of things.

  “Why don’t you take a morning off?” Ross’s eyes darkened to a blue so deep she felt she might topple in and drown. Was that concern or mockery shining back at her? “Go and shower while Bruce and I cook breakfast for you.”

  Could he tell she was seething at his use of the pet name, at him having told Justice rather than allowing her to? Had he worried about what she would have said to their son or had he just arrogantly taken control without ever considering that she might have wanted to tell Justice herself?

  “That’s not really my name,” Justice pointed out, still watching them closely enough that Brielle knew he was trying to figure out the tension in the room.

  His father had been missing for the first five years of his life. Of course something wasn’t right between his parents. But he wasn’t quite five so he didn’t understand the complexities of adult relationships. Then again, neither did she.

  “I know, Justice.” Ross emphasized the name, turning to look at their son for a brief moment, before returning his gaze to Brielle. “I think your mommy needs a few minutes to herself this morning. Sometimes mommies need to pull themselves together before facing their day. We guys just have to let them do their thing.”

  Ross remained squatting next to her, his hand covering hers and causing all kinds of electrical zig-zags and criss-crosses that annoyed her. His gaze was intent and full of...she wasn’t sure. He was angry at her. Although he was pleasant, that harsh emotion was there, just beneath the surface, waiting to raise its ugly head if she didn’t co-operate and do things his way. That she knew. But there was something different in his gaze, too, something more empathetic perhaps. And desire. Possibly the chemistry would always burn between them despite his claim the night before that he no longer wanted her. A claim that had hurt but which had just been another blow in an entire battlefield of injuries.

  “I’m fine,” she said, hoping to convince her son, if not herself. “But I do need a shower and to get dressed.”

  Because maybe if she wasn’t in her pajamas she wouldn’t feel so vulnerable.

  “I’m dressed.” Justice pointed to his shorts and T-shirt, then glanced at Ross and proudly announced, “I picked out my clothes myself and can tie my shoes.”

  “That’s great,” Ross praised, smiling at the boy with a raw look to his eyes that Brielle had never seen. Her heart squeezed at the monumental events happening around her.

  Ross was there. Justice was there. Ross knew he was Justice’s father. Justice knew Ross was his father. How many times had she imagined this moment?

  “I’m pretty sure you and I can rustle up something edible that’ll pass for breakfast for us all while your mom does her thing.”

  “I can make my own cereal,” Justice announced proudly, puffing out his little chest. “I can pour my favorites without making a mess. Mommy doesn’t like me eating sweet cereals too often, but she’s so proud of me being a big boy and making my own.”

  Her son, always a talker, prat
tled on about his favorite breakfast cereal while Brielle could do no more than stare at Ross. He was going to make her breakfast? What, and add strychnine? Because she sure hadn’t expected him to be nice to her. Was it all for Justice’s sake?

  “What do you think?” Ross asked, removing his hand from hers and immediately filling her with a sense of loss. “Hungry, Mommy?”

  She missed his touch already.

  Which was crazy.

  This was not about her and Ross.

  That wasn’t why he was here. Whatever had been there or might have been between them had ended last night when he’d learned of Justice. Justice was their only real connection now.

  She wasn’t her mother.

  She’d do well to remember that.

  “You shouldn’t call me that.”

  “What would you like me to call you?”

  Yours.

  No, she didn’t want him to call her that.

  Not any more. She’d just established that, hadn’t she?

  “You are a mommy and he’s the daddy, so it’s okay if he calls you that,” Justice helpfully pointed out, pulling his basket of coloring books and crayons over in front of him. When he found the book he wanted, one full of his favorite caped crusader, he took out a crayon and held the box out towards Ross.

  Ross Lane coloring? Brielle just couldn’t picture it, but Ross took the box, selected a color and began to help Justice fill in between the lines as if he did the same thing every morning, as if he’d do whatever his son wanted of him.

  Brielle stared at her son in amazement. Oh, the resilience of a four-year-old. Brielle stood, ignoring Ross’s outstretched hand, and pulled out a mixing bowl.

  “No.”

  She stopped, turned toward Ross, startled at his harsh word.

  “Justice and I are going to make breakfast for you,” he clarified in a more normal tone. He glanced at his son’s expectant face. “Right after we finish coloring this page, right, buddy?” His blue gaze went back to Brielle. “Go, take a bath, relax, do your hair, whatever it is you women do. We’ll take care of this and when you’re ready, we’ll eat.”

  Brielle hesitated.

  Dared she leave Justice alone with Ross?

  “We’ll be fine.”

  That wasn’t what she was worried about.

  He must have read her mind because his gaze narrowed and his face darkened. “We’ll still be here when you come out. I’m not like you.”

  He didn’t have to say more. She knew what he meant. He meant that he wouldn’t leave with their son and hide him away from her.

  Like she’d done to him.

  But that wasn’t what she’d done and she wanted to argue that point, but although Justice was busily coloring a winged car, she knew he wasn’t missing a single word of the conversation. He never did. So she bit back all the things she wanted to say and smiled politely at the man who was invading her home and her life.

  She’d play his game. For now.

  “Fine. I’ll go take a shower and be back out in about twenty minutes.”

  Less. Because even though she didn’t really believe Ross would run with Justice, she couldn’t quite get past how nervous it made her to leave her son alone with his father.

  * * *

  Heart slamming against his rib cage at all the morning’s events, Ross glanced down at the top of his son’s shiny blond head. Justice’s tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated intently on the picture he was working on.

  “You’re very good at coloring,” Ross offered, suddenly nervous about the prospect of being alone with Justice until Brielle returned. When he’d knocked on the front door and Justice’s voice had asked who was there, he’d not been able to stop the words that had left his mouth.

  Your daddy.

  Without unlatching the safety chain, Justice had cracked the door, peered out at him.

  “I thought you were Uncle Vann’s friend?”

  “I am,” he’d answered. “Can I come in?”

  “Mommy says I’m not supposed to let anyone into the house without her knowing.”

  “I’m not just anyone.”

  Justice’s little face had twisted with thought then without a word he’d shut the door.

  Ross’s heart had pounded, fearful that his over-eager announcement had shocked the boy. But within seconds he’d heard the chain rattle, seen the door open.

  “Since Mommy said you were Uncle Vann’s friend, that makes you not a stranger, right?” Justice had asked, still blocking the door with his tiny body, as if he’d been protecting his home and was still withholding house-entering privileges.

  “Right.”

  “Then I guess you better come in because I’m not supposed to stand with the door wide open. Lets bugs into the house. I think that’s cool, Mommy doesn’t.” Justice’s face squished up with another thought. “Are you really my daddy?”

  Ross had wanted to wrap his arms around his son, to hug him close, to breathe in his scent, and never let go. Instead, he’d stepped into the house, closed the front door, and bent to one knee to put him almost at eye level with Justice.

  “I am really your daddy.”

  Justice seemed to digest that. “Where have you been for so long?”

  A thousand answers ran through Ross’s mind and as much as part of him wanted to lay all the truth on his son, a more logical part of him knew that pointing fingers wouldn’t do Justice any good.

  “I’ve been working in Boston, but I’m home now and want to be a part of your life.”

  “Do you have to go back to Boston?”

  Did he? He hadn’t really made the decision that he wasn’t going back to Boston, but in that moment Ross knew.

  “No, Bean’s Creek is my home now, here with you and your mom.”

  “That’s cool. I’ve missed you.”

  Ross’s chest tightened and he wondered how his son had missed him when he hadn’t known him, but he knew what his son meant. Justice hadn’t missed him but had missed having a father. Another flare of anger erupted within him at what Brielle had robbed him of, what she’d robbed their son of. How could she have done that?

  “Mommy gets sad sometimes and cries at night. She thinks I don’t know, but I hear her. I think she was missing you, too.”

  His son’s words put him right back in the middle of the emotional tug of war he’d waged all night. As angry as he was at Brielle, he also admired the way she’d taken responsibility for their son, at what a good job she’d done, caring for him.

  “I’ve missed her, too.” Seeing his son’s frown, he corrected himself. “I’ve missed you both. Very much. But I’m here now and not ever going to leave again.”

  Staring at the boy coloring at the kitchen counter, Ross knew he’d told his son the truth earlier when he’d made that claim. He wasn’t leaving Justice, not now that he knew about him.

  “I know I’m a good colorer. Mommy tells me all the time how awesome I am at staying between the lines,” Justice said, so matter-of-factly that Ross laughed at the boy’s nonchalance at his praise.

  “Does she, now?”

  Not looking up, the boy nodded. “She tells me how good I am at lots of things. Mommies are like that. It’s their job.”

  Curious, Ross couldn’t keep his next question in. “What’s a daddy’s job?”

  That had Justice looking up at him with a “duh” expression. “To work and take care of the mommy and the kids.”

  Smart kid. Ross nodded. “Yep, that’s the daddy’s job.”

  “Are you going to take care of my mommy and me now that you’re my daddy?”

  Justice’s eyes were so intent, so eager for Ross’s answer that he struggled to form words. Struggled to keep from promising him the world.

/>   “Yeah, I’m going to take care of you and your mommy now that I’m your daddy.”

  What he really wanted to explain was that he had always been Justice’s daddy, that he would have been there taking care of them all along had he but known about him.

  He should have been there.

  Brielle had been pregnant, given birth to his child.

  To this adorable little boy.

  Somehow he should have known, should have sensed that something monumental was happening.

  His throat threatened to clog up and he cleared it just to be able to keep his lungs from collapsing from lack of air. “The first order of business on taking care of you and your mommy is for us to cook breakfast so we don’t starve to death.”

  Justice gave him a not so sure look. “I just know how to make cereal.”

  “Then it’s time you learn to make a good omelet. Chicks love omelets.”

  “Chicks?” Setting his crayon down, Justice giggled as he repeated the word.

  Ross ruffled the boy’s hair in what was supposed to be a light gesture. Instead, it was the first time he’d ever touched his son and his fingers lingered at the softness of his hair, at the innocence in the eyes staring up at him.

  This child was his flesh and blood.

  His.

  Suddenly he understood the fierceness with which Brielle spoke of their son. He understood the love she felt for the boy. He felt it too, knew that he’d spend the rest of his life seeing to it that his son had a good life and knew that he was wanted, loved. By both of his parents.

  As much as he wanted to take the boy into his arms and hold him close, he knew Justice wasn’t ready for that, neither would he understand Ross’s emotional overload. So, wishing he could somehow have the past five years to live over so he could experience every moment of this child’s life, he kept the mood light by giving Justice a meaningful look. “You know, girls.”