Mia
I turn away from Blake's question, my heart hammering so hard I'm surprised it doesn't crack through my ribs.
The apartment suddenly feels too small, the walls pressing in.
I move to the armchair by the window and sink into it, gripping the armrests like they're the only things keeping me tethered to reality.
Blake doesn't push. He just watches me with those warm brown eyes, patient and steady. After a moment, he crosses to the couch and sits across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Waiting.
"No," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Jack doesn't know they're his sons."
Blake's expression doesn't change, but I see something flicker in his eyes. Understanding, maybe. Or pity. I'm not sure which is worse.
"Tell me," he says quietly.
I close my eyes and let myself fall back into that night. The night that changed everything.
"It was the 4th of July, ten years ago." The words come slowly at first, like pulling splinters from a wound. "My parents threw their annual party. They did it every year. The whole neighborhood came. Fireworks, barbecue, the works."
A small, sad smile crosses my face. "He was the fire chief, you know. He was well-known and loved by the community, so everyone wanted to come to his parties."
I open my eyes and find Blake still watching me, his attention completely focused. It should make me uncomfortable, but instead it feels safe. Like I can finally tell someone the truth I've been carrying alone for so long.
"Jack was there, of course. He was always there. He and my dad were best friends. Had been for years." I twist my hands in my lap. "I'd known him my whole life. Called him Uncle Jack when I was little."
"But you weren't little anymore," Blake says softly.
"No." A bitter laugh escapes me. "I was eighteen. Just graduated from high school. And something had shifted between us that summer. I don't know when it started exactly. Maybe it was always there and I just finally noticed. Or maybe he finally noticed me."
I remember the heat of that July evening, the way the air felt thick and electric. The smell of charcoal and lighter fluid. The sound of my mother's laughter mixing with the neighbors' conversations.
"His marriage had ended," I continue. "He was at the edge of the party, watching everyone else, and there was this sadness in his eyes."
Blake shifts slightly, his muscular frame filling out his shirt in a way that momentarily distracts me. Even now, even while confessing my darkest secret, I notice the way his shoulders strain against the fabric. The way his forearms flex when he clasps his hands together.
Focus, Mia.
“He found me in my dad's study around nine o'clock. I should have left. Should have gone back outside. But I didn't."
The memory plays like a film I can't stop watching. The way his hazel eyes tracked my movement across the room. The gold flecks in his irises catching the lamplight.
"We talked for a while. About nothing important. College plans. The weather. But there was this tension building. This awareness." I meet Blake's gaze. "You know what I mean. That feeling when you're near someone and every nerve ending is on fire."
"Yeah," Blake says, his voice rough. "I know exactly what you mean."
Heat floods my cheeks, but I push forward. "The fireworks started. We could hear them through the window. Everyone went outside to watch, but we stayed in the study. And then he looked at me differently. Not like his best friend's daughter. Not like a little kid. He looked at me like ... a woman."
I can still feel the weight of that look. The way it made my stomach flip and my skin flush.
"He said I'd grown up beautiful. That he'd been trying not to notice but couldn't help it." My throat tightens. "I told him I'd been noticing him too. That I'd been thinking about him in ways I shouldn't."
Blake's jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn't interrupt.
"He said it was wrong. That I was too young, and he was twice my age. He mentioned the friendship with my father." I laugh without humor. "I told him I didn't care. That I wanted him anyway."
My hands are shaking now. Blake reaches across the space between us and takes one of my hands in his, his palm warm and solid against mine.
"We had sex right there in my father's study," I say, the words tumbling out faster now. "The fireworks were so loud outside that no one heard us. It was desperate and passionate and completely wrong."
I take a deep breath.
"Afterward, we just stared at each other. The reality of what we'd done crashed over us. He tried to apologize, but I wouldn't let him. I told him not to regret it. Then I left the study and went back outside like nothing happened."
Blake squeezes my hand gently. "Did you see him again after that?"
"He tried to talk to me the next day. Called my cell phone a dozen times. But I couldn't face him. I was afraid he was going to say what we did was a mistake." I pull my hand back and wrap my arms around myself. "Then I realized I was late. I took three pregnancy tests. All positive."
The panic of that moment still lives in my chest. The way the bathroom floor tilted beneath me. The sound of my own breathing too loud in my ears.
"I was eighteen and pregnant with my father's best friend's baby.
I couldn't tell anyone. Couldn't face the disappointment in my dad's eyes.
The betrayal he'd feel." Tears blur my vision.
"So I packed my bags and left, without a word to anyone.
Until my mom caught me. She tried to talk me out of leaving, but in the end promised to keep my secret.
She even gave me some money she'd had hidden for emergencies. "
"You never told Jack," Blake says. It's not a question.
"How could I? He would have felt obligated to be with me. My father would have found out. Their friendship would have been destroyed. Jack's reputation, his career, everything would have been ruined." I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand. "I thought I was protecting everyone by leaving."
"You were protecting everyone but yourself," Blake says quietly.
The truth of that statement hits me like a physical blow. "I left in the middle of the night. Drove to a different state. Got a job waitressing while I was pregnant. My mom sent money when she could, but I was mostly on my own."
I think about those early months. The morning sickness. The fear. The loneliness that felt like it would swallow me whole.
"I had the twins in a hospital three states away. Rory and Corey. They were so tiny and perfect and terrifying." A small smile crosses my face despite everything. "I looked at them and saw Jack in every feature. His eyes. His expressions. Even the way they moved their hands."
Blake leans back against the couch, processing everything I've told him. His brown eyes are thoughtful, not judgmental. "You raised them alone?"
I nodded. “I thought about calling Jack to let him know about the babies, but I chickened out.
In my mind, it was better that he didn't know.
" I shake my head. "I got my teaching degree online while they were babies.
Worked whatever jobs I could find. My mom visited a few times, but she had to lie to my dad about where she was going.
" The guilt of that still weighs on me. "She kept my secret for ten years. Lied to her husband every day."
"That must have been hard for her," Blake says.
"I could hear it in her voice every time we talked. But she did it anyway because she loved me and wanted to protect me." I meet his gaze. "Just like I was trying to protect everyone else."
Blake runs his hand through his sandy hair, making it stick up slightly. Even disheveled, he's sexy.
"So why come back now?" he asks. "After all this time?"
This is the part that breaks me. "My mom called. Said my dad has stage four pancreatic cancer. Six months, maybe less." My voice cracks. "He's dying, Blake. And I've wasted ten years being too scared to face him."
"That's why you took the job at Riverside Academy."
"I needed to be close. Needed to try to make amends before it's too late." I laugh bitterly. "I just didn't expect Jack to be the principal. Didn't expect to feel everything I felt ten years ago the moment I saw him again."
Blake stands and crosses to my chair, kneeling in front of me so we're eye level. His hands rest on my knees, warm and grounding.
"And you didn't expect to fall for two other men in the process," he says with a slight smile.
Despite everything, I laugh. "No. That definitely wasn't part of the plan."
"Does Jack suspect? About the twins?"
"He doesn't know I have children," I remind Blake. "But he is curious about these birthstones." I touch my necklace. "He's questioned me about it and is a little suspicious."
Blake's thumbs trace small circles on my knees, the touch both comforting and distracting. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know." The admission feels like defeat. "I came back to reconcile with my father before he dies. But how do I tell him about the twins? How do I explain that his grandsons are the result of me sleeping with his best friend when I was barely legal?"
"The truth," Blake says simply. "You tell him the truth."
"The truth might kill him." Tears stream down my face now. "He's already so angry that I left. If he finds out why, if he learns about Jack and the boys, it might literally kill him."
Blake pulls me forward into his arms, and I collapse against his broad chest. His heart beats steady and strong under my ear.
"You can't carry this alone anymore," he murmurs against my hair. "Jack deserves to know he has sons. Your father deserves to know he has grandsons. And those boys deserve to know their real father."
"I know." The words are muffled against his shirt. "I just don't know how to tell them without destroying everything."
We sit like that for a long time, Blake holding me while I cry out ten years of secrets and fear. His hands stroke my back in soothing circles. His presence is solid and real and exactly what I need.
Finally, I pull back and wipe my face. "I'm sorry. This is a lot to dump on you."
"Hey." Blake cups my face in his hands, his brown eyes serious. "I'm here because I want to be. Because I care about you. All of you, including the complicated parts."
I laugh despite myself. "This situation is definitely more of a hail Mary pass."
"Then we better make sure we catch it." Blake stands and pulls me to my feet. "But first, you need to decide something."
"What?"
His expression turns serious. "Are you going to tell your father about the twins? Because that's the play you need to call before anything else can happen."
The question hangs between us, heavy with implications. Tell my dying father that his grandsons exist and that their father is his best friend? Or keep the secret and let him die, never knowing?
"I don't know," I whisper. "I honestly don't know if I can do that to him."