Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
AMELIA
His grip on my wrist, my palm pressed against his cheek, his stubble a rough spark against my skin, and the intensity of it—his nearness, his warmth. It had all blinded me… made me weak, made me forget.
God, I almost told him.
I don’t know what would have happened if I had, what reckless thing we might’ve done, but I know it would’ve shattered this little boy’s world. Regret would’ve followed, or maybe it wouldn’t—either way, the choice was taken away by his small voice, and I’m grateful to him.
I jerk my hand back, our connection snapping as easily as breaking a twig.
My gaze whirls to the doorway. Max’s son looks at us with a slight frown.
Right then, his resemblance to his father is a punch to the gut—dark curls tumbling over his forehead, just like Max’s, framing a face so perfect it could’ve been carved by angels.
His eyes, though, are gray, not Max’s blue. They shimmer with a quiet innocence.
He’s beautiful, achingly so, and a sharp pang slices through my chest. My heart hurts with a hollow, unspoken dream—what would our child have looked like?
Would they have had my pale green eyes, or Max’s stormy blue?
Would their hair have curled wild and soft like this child?
The questions swarm, each one a shard of a life I’ll never have, and tears burn behind my eyes.
I bite my lip, hard, refusing to let them fall again.
A woman steps into the doorway behind him, her blonde hair catching the light like spun gold, and her smile is radiant.
Max’s wife. My gaze falls on her, and a sharp pain claws at my insides.
Look at her. How she glows with happiness.
She’s everything I’m not—vibrant, loved, the centerpiece of a life I was meant to live.
For a moment, the anger flares and burns for the unfairness of it all.
But her eyes meet mine, warm and unguarded, and the rising fury falters.
I can’t hate her. She’s done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve my anger.
It’s not her fault. She was not even in the scene when Dad lied.
It’s not her fault that Max and I were torn apart.
The realization is a cold wave that douses the fire of my anger.
It leaves a deeper ache in its wake, but I won’t hurt her, won’t touch the perfect family she’s built with him, no matter how much it stings.
I turn to Max, my throat tight, the words scraping out like glass. “You have a beautiful family.”
He looks at me, a flicker of something raw passing through his eyes. “Thank you,” he says, his voice low. Then, quieter, like a confession, “You’re my family as well.”
My breath catches, his words a blade twisting in my chest. I stare into his eyes, and the urge to tell him the truth surges again, desperate and reckless. He’s not my family—not my half-brother, not my anything—because Dad lied.
Max doesn’t know, and the weight of that secret presses against my ribs, like a bird trapped in a cage begging to be freed.
To fly free in the blue sky. It would be so easy to say it, to let the poor bird out, and change everything.
But I can’t. Not now, not when that beautiful, blameless child is standing in the doorway.
I want him so badly it’s a physical pain, a yearning that’s lived in me for fourteen years, but he’s not mine. He’s hers, and it’s time I accepted it. My eyes hold his, searching for a trace of the boy I loved, but all I see is the man he’s become, and the truth that he’s out of reach.
Max’s gaze is a weight, heavy with something I can’t name, and it pulls at me, threatening to unravel the fragile control I’m clinging to.
The kitchen’s bright light feels too harsh, exposing every crack in my composure, every ache I’ve tried to hide.
Then his hand lifts, settling gently on my shoulder, his touch warm through the thin fabric of my dress, and it’s a spark that could ignite me if I let it.
“Tell me what I can do for you,” he says, his voice rough with sincerity. “Anything, Amelia.”
My throat tightens, the words I want to say—Tell me you still feel it, tell me I’m not alone in this—choking me. Instead, I force a smile.
“You’ve already done enough by coming here,” I murmur, dodging his offer. “I’m fine. Really.” The lie tastes bitter, but I push on. I must shift the focus away from my crumbling heart. “I’m just happy you’re doing so well, Max. I’m proud of you, and I hope you keep shining.”
His eyes darken, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “I feel like I haven’t been there for you at all,” he says, his voice quieter now, laced with regret. “I’m so sorry.”
I nod, my chest aching at his words, their double meaning slicing through me.
He’s apologizing for more than just today—for the years of silence, for walking away when I begged him to stay, to be my half-brother if nothing else.
I understood then why he couldn’t, why being near me would’ve hurt too much, just like it hurts me now.
“I get it,” I say softly, my gaze dropping to the counter, unable to hold his. “It would’ve been… painful.”
Our eyes meet again, locked in a moment that feels like it could swallow time. It’s too much, too raw, and I’m trembling under the weight of it. But before I can break, his son comes forward.
Those gray eyes—big, bright, and impossibly cute—turn to me, shy but curious, and his small hand slides into his father’s. “Is this Aunt Amelia?” he asks, his voice high and clear, like a bell ringing through the fog.
My heart squeezes, a fresh ache blooming at the sound of his voice, so pure it could break me. He’s an angel, this boy, and the thought of him calling me aunt is a bittersweet sting.
“Yes, this is your Aunt Amelia,” he says, his voice tight. “Say hello.”
Jason’s cheeks flush, and he looks up at me, his smile tentative. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”
I lower myself to his level, my knees brushing the cool tile, and meet his gaze.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say, my voice trembling with the effort to stay composed. My hand reaches out, unthinking, to touch his cheek—soft, pink, warm under my fingers. “What’s your name?”
“Jason,” he says, his smile growing, a spark of pride in his voice.
“Hi, Jason,” I whisper, my eyes burning. “It’s very nice to meet you.” The words feel inadequate, but they’re all I have, a fragile bridge to this boy who carries so much of Max in him.
I glance up, and Sara is moving closer. She rests her hands lightly on Jason’s shoulders as he smiles down at me.
Her smile is kind and loving, and it’s a jolt to see her so at ease.
She is trying to weave me into her family because she can see I’m on the outside, alone, with no one to hold me together.
The contrast between us is stark—she has Max and Jason, and I have an empty house, an empty heart.
A flicker of envy stirs, but I push it down, ashamed of the impulse. She’s done nothing to me, nothing to deserve my resentment. I hate this self-pity, this new wave of loneliness that threatens to pull me under. I catch Max’s eyes again, burning with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.
“Hey, Amelia,” Sara says, her voice warm, pulling me back.
I manage a smile, brittle but genuine, forcing it past the lump in my throat. “Thank you for coming.”
“You’re welcome. It’s so nice to meet you,” she replies, her eyes bright, sincere. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Her words catch me off guard, and I glance at Max, and see a flash of annoyance in his expression, his jaw tightening.
It’s subtle, but it’s there. I wonder what he’s told her, what stories he’s shared about me.
Sara doesn’t seem to notice; her smile is unwavering.
It makes me question if she truly knows him, the way I do—the depths of his heart, the shadows he carries.
I shake the thought away and focus on her words.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she says softly. “I wish there was something we could do to help you through this. You’re family, after all.”
I don’t look at Max, though I feel his gaze burning into me.
“Thank you, but I’m fine. I’ll recover. Everyone does, eventually.
” I force another smile. Avoiding the pull of Max’s stare, I keep my eyes fixed on Sara.
“Thank you for being here. I really appreciate the gesture. Perhaps I’ll see you later.
I’m… I’m just going to head upstairs for a bit. ”
Before I can move, Sara reaches out, her hand gentle but firm on my arm, stopping me.
“This might sound crazy,” she says, her eyes earnest, “but we’d love to support you, especially now, when you’re so alone.
Would you consider coming to our home, spending some time with us?
Jason should get to know his aunt better, and being around people who truly care about you will help you heal faster. ”
Obviously, I can never take her up on her offer, but her words stun me, a kindness I didn’t expect.
I turn to Max, and his face is a mask of shock, his eyes wide, fixed on Sara like she’s suddenly started speaking in tongues.
He’s even more shaken than I am, and the realization sends a ripple of pain through me.
He doesn’t want me at his home.