Chapter 2
Kieran
KIERAN
I need you.
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
I’m here, always
What do you need?
KIERAN
Can I swing by yours?
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
Bella’s here, is that okay?
KIERAN
Yeah, I could actually use her help too
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
We’re here, come over whenever
Emmy hasn’t let go of the grip she has around my neck.
The only time she did was when the matron did the nicest thing she’s ever done in her life and gave me a car seat, because of course she needs a car seat. She’s three.
I have a three-year-old daughter.
My thoughts haven’t stopped spinning and I doubt they ever will.
As the elevator in my apartment complex rises, the numbers climbing, so do my questions. I have so fucking many.
Why can’t I remember her mom?
Why didn’t she tell me?
Did she try to tell me and someone from my management or publicist team thought it was fake?
Do I need to fire someone?
How much trauma does my little girl have?
What do I need to buy for her?
What do you feed a three-year-old?
Do they sleep alone?
Do they need to have naps during the day?
What about daycare? Are they in preschool or something?
The ding of the elevator has my eyes snapping open.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I hold Emmy close to my chest, not daring to let go of her until she pulls away first. I yank my keys out of my pocket and slide it into the lock, pushing open the door. The sound of it slamming behind me rings out at the same time I come to a skidding stop.
I don’t make it past the entryway.
Everywhere I look, all I can see is how I’ve defiled every nook and cranny. The couch that Grayson likes to remind me is the exact same as his, the walls, the windows, the kitchen—fucking hell, I’m a whore.
Don’t even get me started on the bedroom.
I can’t help but grimace. Emmy can’t touch anything in here.
This is not a home.
There’s no warmth, no art, no photos, furniture. I promised Emmy a home. And this is certainly not one that she should ever live in.
My eyes close of their own accord as my hold on Emmy tightens.
“You deserve better,” I whisper gutturally before spinning on my heel and never looking back.
Call it whatever you want—coincidence, fate, the universe, serendipity—but the only house available to move into today, if I threw enough money around, is the one across the street from my best friend.
The house I passed every time I visited him, the one I looked at and thought I’d never have, because why would I buy a house that big just for myself?
Why would I subject myself to the ache of loneliness?
Yet here I am, standing in a four-bedroom, two-story house, now officially neighbors with Grayson Crawford. The keys in my hand feel light, as light as the pen used to sign the paperwork to buy said house thirty-four minutes ago.
I had to pay a lot more than the asking price to get things moving as quickly as I did, but the thought of even staying in a hotel with Emmy after all she has lost, after being ripped from her home and placed into foster care and bouncing around with me, didn’t settle well.
Especially since she still hasn’t let go of my neck, her head lying on my shoulder.
God, the real-estate agents’ faces when I walked into their office and demanded a house that I could move into today were priceless.
Shock doesn’t even begin to cover it. I wish I had the forethought to capture a photo.
I was only taken seriously because one of the agents is a fan of IceHawks and knew I had the money to back up my demand.
I suppose when you have money, anything is possible.
Isn’t that a sickening thought?
Taking a seat on the entryway steps that lead to the large living room, I gaze around the place, making a mental note of everything I need to buy.
A sofa. I can bring my flat screen TV from the loft but I’ll need a new coffee table. And two beds. I don’t want Emmy near my old mattress. That thing should be burned.
She’ll need toys. Clothes as well. She only had a handful of clothes that barely fit her.
Stools for the kitchen. And maybe a high chair? Do three-year-olds sit in high chairs?
Oh my god, do I need to baby proof everything? Is she still a baby? No, she’s a toddler. What the hell do you feed a toddler?
I need to get her a therapist…along with a speech therapist. Or is that a two-in-one situation? She’s suffered too much trauma at her young age already.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking through my thoughts and giving me a second of reprieve.
It’s probably Grayson, though I know he isn’t the only one blowing up my phone. The entire team has reached out asking what happened. Even Coach left a voicemail, said he would be chewing out my ass if it weren’t for the fact I’ve never run out in the middle of practice.
That, and apparently it looked like I had seen a ghost.
I had.
The ghost of my past.
I know the foster home number by heart, and when I checked my phone while taking a bathroom break, my heart lurched in my throat, beating erratically when I heard the matron’s voicemail.
Despite being twenty-eight years old, her voice made me feel like that petrified little boy again, my body bracing for inevitable impact.
By the pounding of my heart and the tightness of my chest I was mere seconds away from having a panic attack.
I blow out a breath as I see the barrage of worried texts from Grayson. Tightening my hold on Emmy, I stand from the steps, taking one long glance at the empty house before turning.
“Time to face the music,” I whisper to myself.
Logically, I know the walk across the street is nothing and yet it feels like an eternity, my steps slow and clipped. Even my hands feel numb as I punch in the gate code.
It’s as if I’m not in my body. I’m watching myself walk down Grayson’s long tree-lined driveway, and I can see Emmy looking back at me.
Her big brown eyes are taking in everything around her, her thumb stuck in her mouth as she does so.
Her other little hand is playing with the locks of my shaggy black hair at the back.
Blinking quickly, I come back to myself, steeling my heart and mind for the conversation I’m about to have.
The moment I walk through that door, this all becomes real. This becomes my new reality.
Everything I ever knew is about to change. It already has. It changed the moment the matron left that voicemail demanding I come to the house due to an emergency.
Suddenly, my emotions begin to drown me in their depths, sucking me into their whirlwind. I lift my hand to ring the doorbell when my feet stay rooted to the welcome mat, refusing to move forward.
Now they’ll really know something is wrong.
I never ring the doorbell.
And by the way the door flies open to reveal Grayson’s deep frown and Bella’s wide eyes, I know I’ve blown any semblance of cool out the window. Grayson’s gaze flicks between Emmy in my arms and my face.
Do I look as petrified and confused as I feel?
“What did you do, steal a child?” Grayson asks incredulously.
Bella blinks. “God, Kieran, we can help with a lot, but kidnapping is where I draw the line.” She scrunches up her nose. “Please don’t tell me you’re going through a single mother stage. They deserve more than a quick shag.”
My lips part to speak but my tongue doesn’t move.
I want to tell them she’s mine. I want to speak, goddammit, but for once in my life my tongue is a dead weight in my mouth and I find I’m unable to form a single word. Instead, I implore Grayson with my gaze, begging him to understand what I can’t say verbally.
His head tilts before his expression slackens.
Taking a step back, I watch shock thunder through him, his hand reaching out to stabilize himself with Bella’s touch. “No…”
Bella’s face turns stricken as she looks to her boyfriend. “Grayson? What is it? Is…” She trails off, and I can see the moment it dawns on her too. Her hand covers her mouth as she gasps, her eyes flying to Emmy.
Grayson seems to compose himself, barely, as he whispers, “Kieran, whose kid is that?”
The tension between us all is so potent even Bambi approaches from behind, ever so carefully. It’s like she knows that what I’m about to say will change all of our lives.
“Mine,” I croak out.
And the emotions—the utter terror and fear of fucking this kid up, the sadness I feel for what she’s gone through—bubbles to the surface, and before I can think better or control myself around Emmy, a strangled sob tears from my chest as I whisper my best friend’s name like a plea. “Crawford.”
I can feel it. I can feel my mental control about to snap. The events of today, the weight of this revelation, is about to burst from me, and I can’t keep it at bay any longer.
My anguish must be clear across my face because Bella steps forward, placing a gentle hand on Emmy. “Hi darling, do you want to see a doggy? Do you love doggies?”
To my utter surprise and relief, Emmy peels herself away from me, all but toppling into Bella’s arms, and I see that I’m not the only one with tears in my eyes.
Her little turned-up nose is flushed, her eyes red- rimmed, the bags beneath them far too dark for a three-year-old.
The second Emmy is around the corner, Bella’s soft words soothing her as Bambi trails behind them, I take one look at Grayson and collapse to my knees and weep.
He quickly drops beside me and wraps his arms around me, trying to put me back together again.