running rampant through him, trying to gain control. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I probably should have called.” He definitely should have called. He should have prepared her, not appeared out of nowhere. He hadn’t even considered that she might mistake him for the man who’d victimized her. Stupid of him. Selfish. It was just, he hadn’t had any idea what to say. Didn’t know what to say now. “I just wasn’t sure . . .” He frowned, glancing out the front window toward the field beyond filled with white and yellow wildflowers. It bolstered him somehow, gave him the strength to continue. “I came by a few times before but I couldn’t seem to make myself knock on the door. I was, uh, nervous, I guess. Scared.” He managed a quick smile, glancing at Arryn, who was looking between him and Josie with great interest. “Arryn helped me out today.”
Josie let out a gust of breath as though she’d been holding it since she’d stepped into the doorway and spotted him. She looked at her daughter, her eyes brimming with tears as she smiled at her. “I’m so glad.” She looked back at Reed, a tear spilling over and tracking down her cheek. “I’m so very glad you’re here now.”
**********
The field shimmered golden in the glow of early evening. Josie trailed a hand behind her as she walked, her palm grazing the tips of the tall wildflowers. She kept glancing at Reed, a nervous smile tipping her lips. “So, UC.”
Reed smiled back, nodded. “Yeah.” He looked toward the farmhouse where the happy shriek of a child could be heard. Josie’s husband, Zach, had come home with their two younger children moments after he’d arrived, his gaze moving swiftly between Reed, Arryn, Josie, the broken plates and back to Josie. “I’ll clean that up,” he’d said. “And I’ve got the boys.” He’d looked at Reed and Reed had seen worry in his eyes. Worry, but also kindness. And so Josie had led Reed outside to the field beyond where they now walked under the lowering summer sun.
“UC has a great criminal justice program.” He looked over at her to gauge her reaction, his stomach tightening. Funny thing that she was a virtual stranger and yet he found that he wanted her approval. He respected her. He wanted to tell her how much. He wanted to tell her how often he’d pictured what she’d gone through as he grew within her body, but it wasn’t the time for that. Not yet. But he also hoped someday it would be. He wanted to know her. Maybe he hadn’t been ready to admit just how much until right then. “I want to be a cop,” he explained, and she peered up at him again before squinting into the distance. He couldn’t read her expression, but her body language changed in some minor way he couldn’t articulate, but sensed all the same.
“My husband’s a detective,” she said, giving him a small smile.
He nodded. “Yes. I know. My parents told me that.”
She paused, a worry line appearing between her brows. “Does . . .” She looked away from him as though rethinking the wording of what she was about to ask, or maybe second-guessing asking it at all. But after a beat she said, “Does your interest in law enforcement have anything to do with . . . with—”
“My birth father?” he finished for her.
Josie bobbed her head, her eyes moving over his features as if there was where she’d find his every thought and feeling about the man who had raped and impregnated her. The man he shared DNA with. The man responsible for his creation, a creation that had resulted from such a heinous act against the woman standing in front of him. But he refused to give him the credit for that. It was Josie who’d nurtured him, not just his body, but his heart, when she’d unselfishly left him to be raised by the only parents he’d ever known so soon after she’d finally found him.
He stopped their slow stroll, turning toward her and she did the same. If he wanted a relationship with this woman—and he did—then he wanted to begin with the truth. “Partly.” Mostly? How could he put this into words? He never had. When people asked him why he wanted to go into law enforcement, he gave all the stock answers . . . he wanted to make a difference, serve his