Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Summer
I could barely breathe. My legs burned, my chest tightened, and my throat felt raw from shouting, but I kept running.
My vision blurred from the tears threatening to spill, my pulse hammering so loudly that I could hear it in my ears.
The night air felt too cold against my skin, but I barely noticed.
The only thing that mattered was finding Jake.
"Jake!" I screamed, my voice cracking as I ran past the empty swings, the deserted picnic tables, the open grass fields that suddenly felt too big, too impossible to search.
My mind was spinning with panic, every horrifying scenario flashing through my head.
What if he was taken? What if he ran into the street? What if I never saw him again?
My heart clenched painfully at the thought, my stomach twisting with guilt so sharp it nearly made me double over. I was supposed to protect him. I had promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to him, and now he was lost. I had let him down.
The cold air bit at my skin as I turned in frantic circles, my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.
"Jake, please!" My voice wavered, my desperation bleeding through every syllable.
My eyes darted between the shadows stretching across the park, looking for any sign of him, for that small hoodie, for those wide, frightened eyes. But he was nowhere.
Then, just as my knees nearly gave out beneath me, I saw him.
Curled up on a bench. Crying.
A strangled sob clawed up my throat as relief flooded me so hard my vision swam. My body sagged for half a second, but then my brain registered the man sitting beside him.
I froze.
The world around me tilted as my gaze locked onto him, and my breath caught in my throat. Malcolm.
For a moment, my brain couldn’t process it. He looked different—sharper, more powerful, effortlessly composed in a way that made him stand out against the dim glow of the streetlights. He leaned back against the bench, one arm resting lazily on the wooden slats, his gaze locked onto Jake.
But his face… that was what made my heart stop.
He wasn’t impatient. He wasn’t brushing Jake off or looking around in boredom. He was watching him. His features were calm but focused, his eyes heavy with something I couldn’t name.
Jake was curled in on himself, his arms wrapped tightly around his small frame, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. His tiny fingers clutched at the fabric of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.
I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. My legs moved before my brain could catch up.
"Jake!" My voice cracked as I ran toward them.
Jake’s head snapped up, his tear-filled eyes wide and panicked as they met mine.
For a moment, he just stared, frozen in place. Then, as if something inside him had broken free, he bolted from the bench, his small feet hitting the pavement in uneven strides as he ran straight toward me.
I barely had time to open my arms before he crashed into me, his little body colliding with enough force to nearly knock me off my feet. His hands fisted into my jacket, gripping me so tightly it hurt.
I dropped to my knees, my arms locking around him as he sobbed into my shoulder, his whole body trembling against me.
My own tears finally spilled over as I pressed my face into his hair, holding him as close as possible, my fingers stroking his back, his head, anywhere I could reach, just to reassure myself that he was real, that he was safe.
"I got you," I whispered shakily. "I got you, baby. You’re okay. I’m here."
Jake hiccupped against me, his breathing ragged and uneven. "I—I got scared," he choked out.
My chest ached. "I know, sweetheart. I know."
I rocked him gently, whispering soothing words into his hair, my grip never loosening. My own hands were trembling, the leftover fear still clinging to my skin. The idea of losing him—of really losing him—made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.
A few feet away, Malcolm still hadn’t moved.
I sucked in a shaky breath before finally lifting my gaze—and when I did, everything stopped.
His blue eyes were locked onto mine, unreadable, unmoving.
It had been ten years. And yet, here we were.
We hadn’t seen each other since that morning. Since I had woken up tangled in his sheets, his arms wrapped around me, his breath warm against my skin. Since I had panicked and tried to flee, only for him to smirk and remind me that I couldn’t run from what had already happened.
Now, there was no smirk. No teasing amusement.
Just something heavy in his gaze that I couldn’t decipher.
I licked my lips, my voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."
Malcolm’s jaw tensed slightly, as if he wasn’t used to accepting gratitude. For a second, I thought he’d shrug it off, make some sarcastic remark. But he didn’t.
He just nodded. Slow. Measured.
Something about that made my throat tighten all over again.
Jake stirred in my arms, sniffling, exhaustion weighing him down. My hand smoothed over his hair, my body still curled protectively around his small frame.
Malcolm exhaled softly, his gaze shifting back to Jake before he stood from the bench, his movements effortless, controlled.
"You need a ride back to the foster home?" His voice was calm, casual, but there was something behind it, something I couldn’t quite place.
I hesitated, but before I could answer, Jake tensed against me.
I pulled back slightly, pressing my lips to his forehead before murmuring softly, "Baby, we need to get you home."
Jake sniffled, his fingers still gripping my jacket.
For a long moment, he didn’t respond. Then, finally, he gave a small, exhausted nod.
I lifted my gaze back to Malcolm.
"Yeah," I said. "That would be… really helpful."
Malcolm didn’t say anything, just tilted his head toward the parking lot, signaling for us to follow.
Jake clung to me as we walked, his tiny hands still gripping my shirt, as if he was afraid to let go. I kept whispering to him, promising that everything was okay, that I wouldn’t leave him.
Malcolm’s car was sleek and expensive—exactly the kind of thing I’d expect from a billionaire who had built an empire. But the way he unlocked the doors and held them open was surprisingly patient.
I slid into the backseat with Jake, wrapping an arm around him as he curled up beside me, his head against my shoulder.
Malcolm glanced at me through the rearview mirror before starting the car.
The drive was quiet.
The air between us was thick with unspoken things, with the weight of ten years, with something I didn’t quite understand yet.
Jake’s breathing slowed, his exhaustion pulling him under, his little body finally relaxing against mine.
I brushed a hand through his hair, my gaze flickering to Malcolm in the mirror once more.
He wasn’t smirking.
He wasn’t teasing.
He just drove.
And somehow, I knew—this wasn’t the end.
It was just the beginning.