Off Limits Daddies (Forbidden Reverse Harem Fantasies #26)

Mia

"Mila." My mother's voice cracks through the speaker. "It's your father. He's ... the doctors say it's terminal. Stage four pancreatic cancer. Six months, maybe less."

The words hit me like physical blows. Terminal. Six months. My father, whom I haven't seen in nine years, is dying.

I sit up in bed, the darkness pressing in. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. What do you say when the parent you've been running from is suddenly running out of time?

"Mila? Are you there?"

"I'm here." My voice sounds hollow, distant. "How long have you known?"

"Three weeks. He didn't want me to tell you." She pauses, and I hear her breath hitch. "But I can't watch him die knowing you never got the chance to say goodbye. Whatever happened between you two, he's still your father."

Whatever happened. As if she doesn't know exactly why I left at eighteen and never came back.

I close my eyes and see him as he was the last time.

Strong. Solid. Standing in the doorway of his study.

Reading case files. His reading glasses perched on his nose.

He'd looked up when I passed by. He smiled at me the way he always did.

Warm. Trusting. Completely unaware. I'd packed my bags that night.

I left before dawn. No goodbye. No explanation. I slipped away with my secret intact.

Except I did look back. Every single day for nine years, I've looked back.

"Mila, please. I know it's hard. But he's dying, and I can't—" Her voice breaks completely. "I can't lose both of you."

The guilt crashes over me. My mother, caught in the middle for nine years. She's been secretly calling me every few months. Lying to my father about it. Keeping our fragile connection alive.

"I'll come home," I hear myself say. "I need a few days to arrange things, but I'll come."

"You will?" The hope in her voice nearly destroys me. "Oh, Mila. Thank you."

After we hang up, I sit in the darkness for a long time. I listen to the soft breathing from the bedroom down the hall. My twins sleep there. Rory and Corey, nine years old now, with their father's hazel eyes flecked with gold.

My father doesn't know they exist. Nobody in Riverside knows they exist except my mother. She's never met them. How do I go back there with two nine-year-old boys who look exactly like their father?

Maybe Jack doesn't live in Riverside anymore.

By morning, I've made a plan. It's not a good plan, but it's the only one I have.

I call Riverside Academy first thing, before I can talk myself out of it. The elite private school where I interviewed last month on a whim. It had seemed like fate when I saw the job posting. English teacher position. Immediate start available.

The principal's secretary sounds surprised but pleased when I tell her I'm ready to start immediately.

"We're thrilled to have you, Miss Wilson. When can you begin?"

"Two weeks," I say, watching Rory and Corey eat cereal at our tiny kitchen table. "I need to relocate from out of state."

"That's perfect. We'll have your classroom ready."

The logistics consume the next ten days. I pack our lives into boxes. I terminate our lease. I make arrangements with my best friend Sarah to keep the twins while I find us an apartment in Riverside.

"Are you sure about this?" Sarah asks when I call her. "You've spent nine years building a life away from there."

"My father is dying," I say, and my voice cracks. "I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice."

"Not this time."

Every night, I lie awake wondering if I'm making a catastrophic mistake. I'm returning to the town I fled. To the father who doesn't know he has grandsons. To the man who fathered them without ever knowing I was pregnant.

Jack Lewis. My father's best friend. The man I called Uncle Jack throughout my childhood. The man who looked at me differently that Fourth of July night nine years ago. I was eighteen. He was thirty-six. Everything between us combusted in my father's study while fireworks exploded outside.

I haven't let myself think his name in years. Now it's all I can think about. Is he still there? Will I see him? What will I say if I do?

And worse: What will I do when my sons meet their father and don't know it?

"Mom, why do we have to stay with Aunt Sarah?" Corey asks on our last night in the apartment, his small face creased with worry.

I kneel in front of him. I smooth his dark hair back. He has Jack's hair — thick, dark, always slightly unruly. "Just for a little while, baby. Mommy needs to find us a new place to live."

"But why are we moving?" Rory demands. He's the bold one, the twin who questions everything. He has Jack's stubborn chin. "I like it here."

"We're going back to where I grew up," I tell them, keeping my voice steady. "You'll get to meet your grandparents."

"We have grandparents?" Rory's eyes widen. "You never told us that."

Guilt twists through me. "I know, sweetheart. It's complicated. But yes, you have a grandma and grandpa who are going to love meeting you."

What I don't say: Your grandfather is dying, and he doesn't know you exist. Your father doesn't know you exist either, and I'm terrified of what will happen when he finds out.

The drive to Sarah's house the next morning feels like a funeral procession. The twins chatter in the backseat, excited about their "vacation" with Aunt Sarah, while I grip the steering wheel and try not to think about what comes next.

Sarah meets us at the door, her expression sympathetic. She's the only person who knows the whole truth. She knows about Jack, why I left, and who the twins' father is.

"You sure about this?" she asks quietly while the kids run inside.

"No," I admit. "But I have to try. My dad is dying, Sarah. If I don't do this now, I'll regret it forever."

She pulls me into a hug. "Call me every day. And if it gets too hard, I'm here. Always."

We spend the afternoon together, the kids playing while Sarah and I pretend everything is normal. But as evening approaches and it's time for me to leave, the reality sets in.

Saying goodbye to Rory and Corey is harder than I expected. They cling to me, suddenly uncertain. Corey's eyes are already red-rimmed, and even Rory looks shaken.

"You'll come back for us soon?" Corey whispers, his hazel eyes swimming with tears. "You promise?"

"So soon," I promise, kissing the top of his head.

"With our own rooms?" Rory asks hopefully.

"We'll see," I say, my throat tight. "I'll do my best."

I hug them both one more time, holding on longer than I should, memorizing the weight of them in my arms. They're my whole world, these two boys.

"I love you both so much," I whisper. "Be good for Aunt Sarah."

"We will," they chorus, though Corey's voice wavers.

"Mom?" Rory says as I start to pull away. "Are you scared?"

I freeze. He's always been perceptive, always able to read me better than I'd like.

"A little," I admit. "But it's going to be okay. I promise."

Another lie. I have no idea if it's going to be okay.

Sarah walks me to my car. "They'll be fine," she says. "Don't worry about them."

"Thank you," I manage. "For everything."

I slide into the driver's seat and turn the key. The engine hums to life.

The last time I left my home, I didn't say goodbye to anyone.

It was four in the morning, nearly ten years ago. I was eighteen and three months pregnant. My car was packed with everything I could fit. I'd left a note on my bed that said nothing real. Just that I needed to figure things out, that I'd call soon.

I drove past the house one last time. The lights were off. Dad was sleeping, completely unaware that I'd slept with his best friend. That I was pregnant with his best friend's baby.

I couldn't tell him. The betrayal would destroy him. Jack was like a brother to him. They'd known each other for twenty years.

So I ran. I protected Dad from the truth by disappearing with it.

I told myself I was doing the right thing. That some secrets are too heavy to share. That leaving quietly was kinder than staying and watching everything fall apart.

I've spent a decade convincing myself I made the right choice.

Now, watching my sons on Sarah's porch, I'm not so sure anymore.

In the rearview mirror, I see the twins standing there. Sarah has both arms wrapped around them, holding them close. Rory lifts his hand in a small wave, trying so hard to be brave. Corey presses his face against Sarah's side. His small shoulders shake. I watch the exact moment he starts to cry.

I pull away slowly, my foot barely touching the gas. They get smaller in the mirror. Smaller still. Then I turn the corner and they're gone.

My vision blurs. I blink hard, but the tears come anyway.

Now I'm running again. Only this time, I'm running toward the mess I left behind.