Feisty Red (Three Chicks Brewery #2) - Stacey Kennedy Page 0,18

reason I didn’t tell you. Back then, I was terrified that you no longer wanted me, or anything to do with this town, and you wouldn’t be interested in a child. I was never worried that you would physically hurt Mason or me. I was only worried you’d promise him the world then leave him, and if I’m honest, I’m still very, very worried that’s exactly what you’ll do.”

“You’ve got a right to be worried about that.” Torment and nameless things passed over his expression as he blew out a long breath and then ran his hands over his face. “Which is why you’re in control here, not me. So, tell me: where do we go from here? Do we tell him? Do we leave this alone? What is best for him?”

“I don’t know,” she answered after a long moment. “This is all new territory for me. To be perfectly honest, I never thought you’d come back. I never thought we’d see you again. You were living out your dreams in Boston.” She paused, considering then deciding on a way forward. “I’m only, and always, thinking of Mason’s best interests, and if you want to be in his life in a positive way, I’d never stand in the way of that, but that’s where the line is drawn.”

He processed then nodded. “I understand.”

“There’s no reason to rush this,” she continued. “You’ve got a month here. Let’s just take it one day at a time. Meet Mason in a casual way. Get to know him. And then you can decide if you truly want a son and all the responsibilities that come with it.” Scared to death of the future and Mason’s well-being, she reached for his arm, feeling him jerk in surprise at her touch, but held firm. “Mason is thriving. He’s happy. Let’s keep that our only focus here.”

“That’s fair.” Sullivan drew in a deep breath and stared down at her hand on his arm, warmth touching his features.

The touch felt too familiar, too warm. She quickly pulled her hand away and continued, “This isn’t about us and what happened in the past. This is only about Mason and what is good for him.” She pushed all her motherly instincts out and added firmly, “Let me make this perfectly clear, Sullivan. If I think for a second that your involvement will hurt Mason, I’ll get a court order and fight like hell to keep you out of his life.”

“You won’t have to,” he eventually said. “I would never let it come to that.”

Oddly, she believed him. She looked out at the moon, hoping that he had his shit together enough to do what was right for a child, not just because he selfishly wanted that child in his life.

“Clara,” he said, so softly she looked back at him.

His gentle gaze held hers. “I have no idea if it will make any difference or if it only makes me look worse, but I want you to know, that woman who answered the phone that night, I wasn’t with her. She was a teammate’s wife. I asked her to answer the phone because I knew, after that, you’d stop calling.”

Clara wasn’t sure how she felt about his admission. Did it hurt more knowing that? Or did it hurt less? She exhaled slowly, immediately fighting back against the thoughts. No matter that her heart twisted, she couldn’t let her feelings get wrapped up in all this. Mason needed her strong and at her best. “Well, it had the intended effect. I never called again.”

Their gazes held. He finally looked away. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

Sullivan embraced the hot burn of the whiskey sliding down his throat after Clara poured them both a shot. A son? He worried about being a role model to kids he didn’t know, but a son of his own? He knew the dangerous line he walked here, the damage that could be done. It had been done to him. And he was a twenty-eight-year-old man who still hadn’t recovered from the trauma of his past. He felt sick. He had hoped that Clara would have moved on, found happiness, but he realized she couldn’t have moved on, because she had Mason. And Sullivan’s leaving had only made that harder for her. He had to make this right. “Can I explain why I left?” he asked her.

She shook her head, adamant. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I do.”

In the darkest parts of his heart, the memory of what he’d

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