Mia
I grab Marcus's arm and pull him away from the playground, away from Noah and the children. My fingers dig into his expensive designer jacket as anger floods through me.
"Stop," I hiss, keeping my voice low enough that the nearby parents can't hear. "Stop claiming them as yours. You know the truth."
"It counts for nothing when you used it to control me." I release his arm and step back, creating distance between us. "Our relationship ended for good reasons. You don't get to waltz back into our lives and pretend you're their father."
"I was more of a father to them than whoever actually knocked you up." His voice turns cold, calculated. "Speaking of which, I've been wondering about that. You never did tell me who their real father is."
My stomach drops. "That's none of your business."
"Isn't it?" He moves closer, invading my space. His cologne is expensive and suffocating. "I think people would be very interested to know the truth. Your parents, for instance. Or maybe the school board at that fancy academy where you work."
The threat hangs between us like a blade. How the hell does he know who the father is? And then it dawns on me. The dinner at my parents'. He must have noticed the resemblance between Jack and the twins. My eyes narrow on him."You wouldn't."
"Give me another chance and I won't have to." His hand finds my elbow, his grip firm. "We were good together, Mia. We can be again. The boys need stability. A father figure."
I yank my arm free. "They need honesty. Something you've never been capable of."
Marcus's jaw tightens. "You're making a mistake. I'm the one who stayed. I'm the one who was there when the twins were babies, when you had nothing."
"And you never let me forget it." My voice shakes with suppressed rage. "Every kindness came with strings attached. Every bit of help was leverage you used to control my choices, my friends, my life. I won't go back to that cage."
"It wasn't a cage. It was a family."
"It was suffocating." I glance back at the playground where Noah is pushing Sophie on the swing while Rory and Corey play with the other children. "Now leave us alone, Marcus. I mean it."
His expression shifts, becomes something harder. "You'll regret this."
He walks away, his confident stride never faltering. I watch him disappear into the parking lot, my hands shaking with adrenaline. He doesn't want me. Not really. He wants the me he used to be able to control.
Noah appears beside me, his green eyes concerned behind his glasses. "Everything okay?"
"No." I wrap my arms around myself. "I'm sorry, Noah, but I need to get home."
The drive home with the twins passes in a blur. Rory and Corey chatter away, oblivious to the tension coiling in my chest. I force myself to respond appropriately, to smile and nod, while my mind races through worst-case scenarios.
At home, I help the boys with homework and make dinner on autopilot. Bath time, story time, tucking them into bed. The routine is comforting even as anxiety gnaws at my insides.
After they're asleep, I pour myself a glass of wine and collapse on the couch. The apartment feels too quiet, too empty. I pull out my phone to text Jack, then hesitate. What would I even say? That Marcus is threatening to expose us? That everything is falling apart?
I set the phone down and close my eyes, trying to breathe through the panic.
A sound makes my eyes snap open. The front door. I know I locked it. I always lock it.
I stand slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs. The door is slightly ajar, a sliver of hallway light visible through the crack.
Terror floods through me. I grab the baseball bat Rory uses for practice and move toward the door, my hands slick with sweat. I push it open wider, peering into the empty hallway. Nothing. No one.
I close and lock the door, checking it twice. Then I move through the apartment, checking windows and the twins' room. Everything appears normal. The boys sleep peacefully, their faces relaxed and innocent.
In the kitchen, I pour another glass of wine with shaking hands. That's when I see it.
A photograph sits on the counter, propped against the fruit bowl. I don't remember putting it there. I've never seen it before.
I pick it up with trembling fingers. It's me, sitting in the gym at Riverside Academy. The angle suggests it was taken from across the room, zoomed in. I'm watching something on the court, my expression focused. The photo is recent, probably from last week's basketball game.
No note. No explanation. Just the photo.
My wine glass slips from my fingers and shatters on the tile floor. Red liquid spreads across the white surface like blood.
Someone was in my apartment. Someone left this photo. Someone has been watching me.
I grab my phone and dial Jack's number with shaking hands.
"Mia?" His voice is warm, concerned. "Everything okay?"
"Can you come over?" My voice cracks.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
I clean up the broken glass and spilled wine, then check on the boys again. Still sleeping. Still safe. I pace the living room, jumping at every sound, until Jack's knock finally comes.
He fills the doorway, his broad shoulders and commanding presence immediately making me feel safer. His hazel eyes scan my face, taking in my pale skin and trembling hands.
"What happened?" He steps inside and closes the door behind him.
I hand him the photograph without speaking.
Jack's jaw tightens as he studies it. "Where did you get this?"
"Someone left it in my apartment. The door was unlocked when I checked earlier." My voice shakes. "Someone was in here, Jack. While I was putting the twins to bed."
He sets the photo down and pulls me against his chest. His heart beats steady and strong under my ear. "Did you call the police?"
"And tell them what? That someone left a photo? They'll think I'm paranoid."
"You're not paranoid. This is serious." His hands stroke my back in soothing circles. "We need to figure out who's doing this."
I pull back to look at him. "I think it might be Marcus. He threatened me at the park today. Said he'd tell everyone the truth about the twins' father if I don't give him another chance."
Jack's expression darkens. "He threatened you?"
"He wants me back. Wants to play happy family." I wrap my arms around myself. "But there's something else I need to tell you. Something I should have told you a long time ago."
Jack's hazel eyes search my face, but he doesn't say anything.
The words stick in my throat. Ten years of secrets; it all comes crashing down in this moment.
"The twins." I force myself to meet his gaze. "Rory and Corey. They're yours, Jack."
The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. Jack's face cycles through emotions too quickly to track. Shock. Disbelief. Understanding.
"What?" His voice is barely a whisper.
"That 4th of July night." Tears blur my vision. "I got pregnant. I left because I was terrified of destroying your friendship with my father, of ruining your reputation. You were his best friend. I was barely eighteen. I thought leaving was protecting everyone."
Jack's hands grip my shoulders. "You've known all this time that I have sons and you never told me?"
"I was scared." The tears spill over now. "I was eighteen and pregnant and terrified. I didn't know what to do."
"So you ran." His voice rises. "You disappeared without a word and kept my children from me for a decade?"
"I thought I was doing the right thing!"
"The right thing?" Jack's laugh is bitter. "The right thing would have been telling me. Giving me a choice. Letting me be their father."
"You would have felt obligated. My dad would have found out. Everything would have fallen apart."
"It fell apart anyway!" His hands drop from my shoulders. "You left. Your father was devastated. I spent years wondering if what we did drove you away, if I'd hurt you somehow."
"You didn't hurt me." I reach for him but he steps back. "Jack, please. I was trying to protect everyone."
"Everyone but me." His hazel eyes, the same shade as our sons', bore into mine. "I had a right to know, Mia. Those boys are mine and I've missed nine years of their lives because you decided I didn't deserve to know they existed."
The accusation hangs between us. He's right. God, he's right and I've been so wrong for so long.
"I'm sorry." The words feel inadequate. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I thought I was doing the right thing but I was just scared and stupid and I've regretted it every single day."
Jack runs his hand through his dark hair, making it stand up. His chest rises and falls rapidly beneath his shirt, the muscles visible through the fabric. Even angry, even hurt, he's devastatingly attractive.
"Show me," he says finally. "Show me my sons."
I lead him down the hallway to the twins' room. They sleep peacefully, Rory sprawled across his bed and Corey curled up with his favorite stuffed animal. Jack stands in the doorway, his expression transforming as he takes them in.
"They have my eyes," he whispers.
"Yes." I move beside him. "And your smile. Rory has your confidence. Corey has your thoughtfulness."
Jack's hand finds mine, his fingers threading through mine. "They're beautiful."
"They're yours."
He turns to face me, and the raw emotion in his expression makes my breath catch. "I've missed so much."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't give me back those years." His voice breaks. "First steps. First words. First days of school. I missed all of it."
"I know." Fresh tears stream down my face. "I know and I hate myself for it. But I'm telling you now."
Something shifts in his expression. The anger transforms into something darker, more primal. His eyes drop to my mouth, then lower, taking in the curve of my breasts beneath my thin t-shirt, the way my jeans hug my hips.
"Jack." His name comes out breathless.
He closes the twins' door carefully, then backs me against the hallway wall, his body pressing against mine. I can feel every hard plane of muscle, the heat radiating from him. His mouth crashes against mine, desperate and demanding.
I kiss him back with equal desperation, my hands fisting in his shirt. His tongue slides against mine and I moan into his mouth.
We stumble down the hallway, shedding clothes as we go. His shirt. My jeans. His pants. By the time we reach the living room, we're both nearly naked and breathing hard.
Jack lowers me to the floor, his body covering mine. His mouth finds my neck, my collarbone, the swell of my breasts. Every touch is claiming, possessive, years of wanting finally breaking free.
He enters me in one smooth thrust and we both freeze, overwhelmed by the sensation. Then he starts to move, slow and deep, his hazel eyes locked on mine.
"I love you," I gasp. "I've always loved you."
"I love you too." His voice is rough with emotion. "Even when I was angry. Even when you were gone. I never stopped loving you."
The pleasure builds with each stroke, each whispered confession. When I finally shatter, crying out his name, Jack follows moments later, burying his face in my neck.
We lie tangled together on the living room floor, both breathing hard. Jack's fingers trace lazy patterns on my shoulder while I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.
"Mia." His voice is quiet but firm.
"Yeah?"
"I want my sons to know I'm their father."