The Secrets She Must Tell - Lucy King Page 0,9

way to meet his son, everything had become a blur, a great maelstrom of emotions and thoughts that he could barely absorb, let alone process. He’d had to shut down in order to be able to concentrate on driving and that was how he’d remained during the entire half-hour journey.

Now, however, as he stood in a room that was smaller than his en-suite bathroom yet apparently incorporated a bedroom, kitchen and living area, his brain was waking up and his senses were returning. He could hear the sink tap dripping rhythmically. The musty smell of damp invaded his nostrils. Behind him, the door opened and then closed behind the friend he distantly recalled being introduced to as Carla Blake, who’d been minding Josh while Georgie pitched up on his doorstep and exploded a world already off kilter.

Yet his focus was all on the cot in the corner and the child lying within it.

As he slowly walked towards it, his pulse pounded and his mouth went dry. He gripped the top rail, his knuckles white, and looked down. At the sight of the baby, lying on his back with his chubby arms out and his tiny hands curled into loose fists, his breath caught and his chest clenched.

‘Do you want to pick him up?’ he heard Georgie say quietly in the gloomy darkness that was illuminated by one bare lightbulb.

No. Yes. More than anything. ‘I don’t want to disturb him,’ he said gruffly, mesmerised by the gentle rise and fall of the blanket that covered the little body.

‘You won’t. He takes a while to settle but once he’s out, he’s out. Just make sure you support his head.’

He reached down and lifted the bundle of warm baby and bedclothes to him, his throat tight. Josh snuffled and then settled against his chest, and he felt the warmth of his son’s body seep into every inch of him, filling him with an emotion he didn’t recognise and couldn’t begin to describe.

He was so tiny, so vulnerable. And only six months old. The same age as Finn had been when he’d been adopted. Who could give up something so precious? And why would someone want to? Had he been too difficult? Too demanding? Had his biological mother needed help in the same way it seemed Georgie did, if her descent from glorious, kick-ass girl-about-town to nervous, ghostly wreck was anything to go by? Had his own mother not had it?

Yet more unanswerable questions.

But this wasn’t about him right now. This was about the baby he was holding. Already, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this child, he thought with a burning conviction he could hardly comprehend. Nothing. Never mind that he had no experience of babies. Never mind that he hadn’t ever wanted responsibility of this kind before. He had it now and, whatever the circumstances, he would never abandon Josh. He would never give up responsibility for him. His son would never have cause to wonder who he was or where he came from. His son, his flesh and blood and, as far as he knew the only relative he had left in the world, would have everything that was in his power to give. And be. Because Finn may or may not have been good enough for either his biological or adoptive parents, but he’d do his damnedest to be the best for his son.

Here was his chance to right past wrongs. To try and move on from the still raw sense of betrayal and rejection he felt. To plan and to build and to focus on something greater. He was no longer alone. He now had a purpose beyond work and an escape from the chaos. And as he bent to settle the baby back in the cot, missing his sweet smell and soft weight already, he realised that, for the first time in months, the way forward was crystal clear. On this, at least, he knew exactly what to do.

Pushing aside messy, incomprehensible emotion and replacing it with easier to understand practicality, Finn straightened and turned to face Georgie, who was leaning against the one kitchen unit that the bedsit contained, looking oddly flushed and on edge.

‘Here’s what’s going to happen,’ he said, watching as her chin came up and her eyes narrowed slightly at his tone.

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Josh is coming home with me.’

She blinked. ‘What?’

‘This place isn’t fit for habitation.’

‘I know.’

‘It’s a health hazard.’

‘I know.’

‘He’s not staying here.’

‘Well, he’s going nowhere without me,’ she countered, and for the