Chapter 11
Anna
The morning light filters through the curtains, pricking at my eyes.
I blink, my body aching in ways that pull me back to last night, to the mistake I swore I would never make again.
I drag in a slow breath, shove the regret down, and tell myself it’s time to get up and face the day before it swallows me whole.
I press my palms into the mattress and am about to get up when his arms tighten around my waist. He pulls me back against his warm chest, his breathing fanning against my neck in a rhythm that once felt like home.
The ache inside me worsens, because a part of me wants to stay right here, lose myself in him and forget all about the hurt and pain.
I crave to turn around in his arms and claim what used to be mine.
But I don’t.
This time, I won’t let weakness take over. I know better than to think that one night can undo what’s already broken. I need to leave.
With my decision firm, and my weaker instincts locked away, I slide out from under his arm, making sure not to wake him.
The wooden floor is cool beneath my bare feet as I crouch to gather my clothes.
My hands quiver, betraying the calm I’m trying to hold on to as I gather myself.
Still, I manage to get dressed and run a hand through my hair when his gravelly, sleep-heavy voice slices through me.
“Anna.”
I don’t turn to look at him. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see myself out.”
I can feel his eyes on me as I bend to slip on my heels. “You’re leaving already?”
“Yes.”
“Stay.” He speaks in a voice that makes it clear it isn’t a question; it’s a command.
My heart stutters, but I force myself to turn and make it clear that we’re done. “It was one night, Landon. That’s all.”
He pushes up against the headboard, the white sheets pooling at his waist, sunlight spilling over the breadth of his shoulders. “That’s all?”
“Yes.” My voice doesn’t waver, but my stomach does.
For a moment, he just stares at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, almost too casually, he says, “Let me make you breakfast.”
I shake my head. “We don’t need to make this beautiful.”
His lips twitch, not in amusement but in restrained anger. “It doesn’t have to be ugly either.”
“I really need to go.” I gather my courage, telling myself that I just can’t let last night become something more, no matter how much he begs.
He throws the blanket aside and rises to his feet in all his naked glory, making my pulse falter, but he doesn’t close the distance between us. Instead, he pulls on his sweats, something I’m secretly grateful for.
“So that’s it?” he asks. “You’ve made up your mind and won’t even give us a chance? After everything, after last night, you’re just walking away as if it meant nothing?”
“When you signed those divorce papers, Landon, something in me shattered. A part of me stopped believing in chances.” My throat burns, and I add, “I have stopped trusting you.”
His eyes narrow, hurt flashing in them. “So I have to live forever with one mistake? Is this your way of punishing me?”
“This isn’t punishment. This is my way of protecting myself from you.”
That’s all it takes for him to close the distance between us. He pushes me against the wall, his both hands bracing on either side of my head, caging me in.
“I can accept that trusting me is hard. But don’t you dare tell me you don’t feel a damn thing, and don’t you even think about saying last night didn’t touch a part of you that should’ve made you know we’re far from done,” he growls, his breath hot against my cheek.
Every nerve in my body sparks under the sheer force of him. My pulse hammers in my ears, begging me to give in. My lips part on instinct, my body betraying me as I lean in slightly into his warmth. But just then, self-preservation cuts sharply through the haze.
“Stop,” I say, my chest tight. “Don’t you dare tell me what I feel. Last night didn’t change a damn thing.”
He leans in, his mouth hovering a breath away from mine. “Bullshit.”
I shove at his chest, and he stumbles back a step. My heart claws against my ribcage, but I force my voice to remain steady. “Believe whatever helps you sleep at night. But this…” I gesture between us. “It’s over.”
Not wanting to prolong the torture, I turn to pull the door open but his voice stops me. But I don’t turn.
“Anna, don’t forget you’re mine,” he says, each word laced with determination. “You always were. And even if you walk through that door, you’ll still be mine.”
“I’m over you, Landon.” I say as my fingers tighten around the doorknob, my knuckles aching. And the ache only intensifies when he’s behind me, so close I can feel his heat from his body crawl up my spine. I squeeze my eyes shut, my whole body trembling with the urge to turn back.
“You can hate, and swear you’re over me, but I’ve seen the way your pulse races when I’m close to you.
Deny it all you want, sweetheart, but your body remembers what your pride refuses to admit,” he breathes before his hand clamps onto my waist and spins me into him.
His mouth crashes against mine, desperate and possessive, his fist tangling in my hair, stealing the air from my lungs.
I tear myself away, tears burning my eyes as my palm cracks across his face before I even realize I’ve raised my hand. He doesn’t say a word, but I do.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I cry out.
I don’t wait for his reply. I just turn around and step out the door. My heart lodges in my throat as I snatch my bag from the living room and run out of the house.
By the time I slide into the driver’s seat, I feel hollow.
I grip the wheel, bite back a sob, and slam the car into gear.
The highway passes in a blur, but throughout the drive, his voice echoes in my head, his kiss still clinging to my lips.
My chest feels scraped clean, as if nothing is left inside me but emptiness.
By the time I pull into the lot of my apartment building, my heartbeat has dulled into something heavy and drained. I kill the engine and sit there for a moment, gathering myself, before dragging my body out of the car. Each step up to my apartment feels leaden until I finally push open the door.
Laughter greets me first, high-pitched and sweet, before I even see them.
Mick is sprawled on the living room floor, his long legs crossed, a mess of building blocks scattered all around him.
And perched on his lap is my daughter. Yes, Liala.
My two-and-a-half-year-old baby girl. She claps her tiny hands, her eyes wide and sparkling as she stares at the crooked little block house.
Her soft blond curls frame her angelic face, the exact same shade as Landon’s.
And when she grins, it’s his smile staring straight back at me.
“There’s Mommy,” Mick grins at her, pointing in my direction.
“Mommy!” she squeals, scrambling off his lap and toddling toward me, her little arms stretched wide.
My heart breaks and mends in the same breath.
I drop my bag by the door, sink to the floor, and gather her into my arms as she barrels into me.
I bury my face into her soft curls, breathing in the sweet scent of baby shampoo and innocence.
And just like that, everything else fades into the background—the anger, the longing, the wildfire Landon stirred inside me. This… this is what truly matters.
“You okay?” Mick’s voice is gentle, but his eyes are sharp, tracking me too closely as I settle beside him.
“Yeah,” I say automatically, pressing a kiss to Liala’s head.
“You sure?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
I shake my head, keeping my gaze on the blocks in front of me, stacking them higher and higher.
He nods quietly. He gets it. He always does.
“I’ve already fed her. She’s good.” He rises to his feet, but not before dropping a quick kiss on both our foreheads. “I’m gonna take a quick shower, then I have to leave for a shoot.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, and it means more than just feeding her or staying back and watching her. It’s gratitude for showing up. For everything he always does for us.
“Anytime.” He squeezes my shoulder as he passes, the kind of touch that says he’s here without needing to put it into words.
When we’re alone, I shift Liala onto my lap. Her tiny hands pat my face as she babbles about the ‘castle’ she and Mick built. I smile and nod, letting her chatter pour into the silence. My arms tighten around her as my mind drifts back to the day I saw the two pink lines.
Sitting on the bathroom floor, knees pulled tightly to my chest, I trembled so badly I could hardly breathe. My eyes stayed locked on the test in my hand. It had barely been a month since I’d signed the divorce papers, and suddenly, there was this life inside me. A part of him.
The knock at the door jolted me.
“Anna?” Mick’s voice came through the door, laced with concern. “You’ve been in there for quite a while. You okay?”
I couldn’t answer. My throat felt tight, and I couldn’t bring myself to utter a single word.
The door creaked open a moment later, and Mick froze when he saw me.
“Jesus, Anna.” He sank to the floor beside me, worry flashing in his eyes. “What happened? Are you sick?”
Wordless, I held the test out to him, my hand trembling.
He took it, blinked once, and the color drained from his face.
“Holy shit.” He looked at me, wide-eyed. “You’re pregnant.”
The word ‘pregnant’ brought fresh tears to my cheeks.
Mick let out a slow breath. “Does… does he know?”
“No,” I rasped, shaking my head hard.
“Anna, you need to tell him.”
“I can’t.” My voice cracked. “I can’t, Mick.”
He squeezed my hand. “Anna, he’s the father. He deserves to know.”
A bitter, broken laugh escaped me. “Deserves? He signed the divorce papers, Mick. He walked away. And now, you want me to tell him this?” My hand rested against my trembling stomach. “I won’t.”
“Anna, think about this. It’s not just about you anymore. He has a right to be in the baby’s life—”
“And what if he doesn’t want to be a part of it?” I cut him off, the words edged with fear. “What if he thinks the baby is just an inconvenience and rejects us? I will not let him do that to my baby.”
“You’re scared. I get it. But hiding this from him… it’s a lot, Anna.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “I’ll carry it. Alone, if I have to. I’d rather my baby grow up without a father than risk letting him hurt my child.”
He looked at me for a long, heavy moment before his shoulders dropped, his eyes softening with affection. “You are not alone.”
I turned to him, tears still blurring everything.
“I’ll be here,” he said simply. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”
My lip trembled. “Mick—”
He pulled me against him, his arms wrapping around me, grounding me while my whole world spun out of control. “You’ve got me, Anna. Always.”
Liala giggles and pulls me back to the present. She squirms on my lap, and her little hands grab at my shirt. I hold her closer, tighter to my chest, as a fear gnaws at me.
What if Landon ever finds out about her?
I shake my head and press a kiss into Liala’s curls. “You’re mine, baby girl. You’ll always be mine. No one will take you from me. Not even your dad.”
But even as I whisper it, a battle rages on in the back of my mind. How will Landon react when he finds out the truth?