Chapter 10
Sam - Six Days After Chloe’s Birthday
I’d come into The Copper Fox early this morning to handle a few things before heading home at lunchtime.
Chloe was finishing up at the Jenkins farm and then catching up with a few appointments at the clinic.
We both had the afternoon off — time blocked out specifically to sit down and have the conversation we’d been circling around for days.
For the first time in nearly a week, I felt like I could finally breathe.
The phone call with Chloe yesterday had lifted something off my chest, even if it hadn’t been the conversation I’d hoped for.
She knew about Leo and Jenna. She’d seen them.
And yes, she was angry — she’d made that crystal clear.
Angry that I hadn’t just talked to her. Angry about the secrets and lies, and being shut out.
I’d tried to talk to her. Multiple times.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? I’d tried at all the wrong moments — when she was exhausted from that horrific cattle emergency, when she was emotionally drained and needed space to process her own trauma.
And instead of waiting for the right time or just pushing through anyway, I’d let my panic win.
I’d convinced myself I needed all the answers first, that I could protect her from the uncertainty by handling everything alone.
My panic and secrecy had created this mess. Not Chloe’s unavailability. Not bad timing. Me.
She’d found out, just like Arthur told me she would.
She’d told me exactly how she felt, demanded we talk face to face with phones off and no interruptions, and made it clear she expected the full truth.
That was Chloe — direct, honest, refusing to let me off easy even when she had every right to walk away.
The woman who dealt with life-and-death decisions every day, who delivered hard truths to pet owners, who could perform emergency surgery with steady hands and unwavering focus.
That was the Chloe I should have trusted from the beginning.
But there was another side to her, one I’d seen in our most intimate moments.
The Chloe who’d sobbed in my arms after losing those fifty-seven cattle, devastated by deaths she couldn’t prevent.
The woman who still carried scars from Sean’s betrayal and her former best friend’s treachery — wounds that made her question whether she was worthy of love, whether she was somehow less than she should be.
I’d watched her struggle with that internal voice that told her she wasn’t enough, the one that whispered doubts even when everything was going well.
She moved between those two sides of herself — the confident professional who faced down emergencies without flinching, and the softer woman who felt everything so deeply it sometimes overwhelmed her.
It was the reality of being someone who cared enough to let things hurt, who was strong enough to keep functioning even when she was breaking inside.
I’d been trying to protect that softer side. Trying to shield her from more pain, more reasons to doubt herself, more evidence that the people she loved kept secrets. But in trying to protect her, I’d hurt her anyway. I’d created the exact crisis I’d been trying to avoid.
My stomach had been in knots since I woke up, checking my email every ten minutes like a man obsessed.
What if the test came back negative? What if Leo wasn’t mine, and I’d potentially destroyed my relationship with Chloe over a child who belonged to someone else? The thought made me feel sick because I’d handled everything so badly based on an assumption.
But Leo was mine. I knew it in my bones.
Every time I looked at him, I saw myself at that age — the same cowlick, the same expressions, the same way of tilting his head when he was thinking.
The test was just a formality, a legal confirmation of what my heart already knew. Still, I needed that confirmation.
My phone buzzed with an email notification around 10 AM. The subject line read: “Paternity Test Results - Confidential.”
I opened it with steady hands this time. No panic, just certainty about what I’d find.
99.9% probability.
Leo was mine.
I sat with that knowledge for a moment, letting it settle. I had a son. A four-year-old boy who needed his father. And in a few hours, Chloe and I would figure out how to deal with this together.
I was texting Kate about the afternoon delivery schedule when Jenna walked through the front door of The Copper Fox like she owned the place.
I watched from behind the bar as she surveyed the dining room, taking in the exposed brick walls, the warm lighting, and the comfortable booths. Her eyes lingered on everything with the kind of assessment that made my skin crawl.
She looked like she was going to a cocktail party, not having a custody conversation with her son’s father. Out of place for a mid-morning conversation.
“Sam,” she said, approaching the bar with a confidence that immediately put me on alert. “We need to talk.”
I glanced toward the front door — unlocked because this was Willowbrook, where people wandered in and out even when the “Closed” sign was up. The bar was empty, quiet except for the hum of the refrigeration units behind me.
“Sure,” I said, gesturing to one of the booths. “Have a seat.”
The main dining area felt safer somehow than my office would have — more open, less intimate. Though as Jenna slid into the booth with practiced grace and I sat across from her, I realized we were still completely alone. No witnesses, no buffer, just the two of us in an empty bar.
“Where’s Leo?” I asked.
“With a babysitter.” Jenna waved her hand dismissively. “This conversation is better had without a four-year-old present.”
Something about the casual way she’d left him with a stranger bothered me, but before I could ask more, she pressed on.
“You got the results,” she said.
“Yes.” The results were emailed to both of us, so she already knew I had them.
“And?”
“99.9% probability.” The words felt strange in my mouth, too big and too small at the same time. “Leo is my son.”
Jenna’s smile was sharp, victorious. “I told you he was yours.”
“You kept him from me for four years.”
“I protected him from financial uncertainty for four years.” She leaned forward across the table, her voice dropping to something that sounded almost intimate.
“Of course, if I’d known then what I know now about your…
situation… things might have been different.
But we don’t need to fight about the past, Sam. We need to talk about the future.”
I nodded. “The future where I support Leo financially and we figure out a custody arrangement that works for everyone, including Chloe.”
Jenna’s expression hardened at Chloe’s name. “Right. Chloe. How’s that going, by the way? Still planning to tell her about us?”
“There is no ‘us,’ Jenna. There’s Leo, and there’s figuring out how to be his father.”
“Is there?” She leaned forward across the table. “I’ve been thinking about that. About what Leo needs. What I need.”
I leaned back instinctively, putting more distance between us. “What do you mean?”
“I mean stability, Sam. Real stability. Not financial support from a distance, not weekend visits that disrupt his routine. I mean a real family. A real home.”
“Leo can have that. I want him to have that. But Chloe–”
“Chloe,” Jenna interrupted, her voice turning sharp, “is not Leo’s mother. I am. And I’m the one who knows what Leo needs. I’m the one who’s been there for him his entire life, who’s made every sacrifice for him–”
“Sacrifice?” I cut her off, something clicking into place. “Like when you told me at the playground that David never showed Leo affection? That he was never around, always at work, missed first words and first steps?”
Jenna blinked, caught off guard by the change in direction. “I—yes. David was neglectful–”
“But at the diner, you told me David was overjoyed when he found out you were pregnant. ‘Pure joy,’ you said. ‘No one had ever been that happy about anything you’d brought to their life.’ You made it sound like he gave you this perfect life.
” I leaned forward, holding her gaze. “So which is it, Jenna? Was David the devoted father who gave you everything, or was he the absent workaholic who neglected his son?”
Her expression hardened. “Both can be true–”
“No. You change your story depending on what you need from me in that moment. When you wanted my sympathy, David was a neglectful father. When you wanted to justify lying to me for four years, he was the perfect provider who gave Leo everything.” I crossed my arms. “You manipulate the narrative to get what you want.”
“I’m trying to do what’s best for Leo–”
“No. You’re trying to do what’s best for you.” The words came out firm, certain.
Jenna’s mask slipped for just a moment, revealing something cold underneath, before she regained her composure. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? You’ve been manipulating this situation from the start. And now you’re trying to manipulate me into believing Chloe isn’t good enough for Leo.”
“I’m just being realistic about what kind of woman wants to take on someone else’s child.” Jenna’s voice turned sharp again. “A career woman. Focused on her practice. Very independent.” Her smile was calculated. “Not exactly the type who dreams of taking on someone else’s child, is she?”
Something hot and protective flared in my chest. “Stop. Right now.”
Jenna blinked, surprised by my tone.