Southern Chance - Natasha Madison Page 0,48

stained with tears. I walk up the steps as quietly as I can and crouch down in front of the swing.

I look at her sleeping, and all I can do is watch. My hand comes out without me thinking, and my thumb rubs her cheek. She stirs under me for a second, but her eyes stay closed. I play with her hair, and she finally opens her eyes. “Jacob.” She whispers my name, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I need you to come with me,” I say, and she just looks at me with big tears in her eyes. “It’s the last thing I will ever ask you.”

“We said everything that needs to be said,” she says and sits up. “It’s just too much.”

“I didn’t say what I need to say,” I say. “I’m asking you to give me the chance to tell you everything.”

“You had your chance,” she says as she stands. “Just leave me.”

“I can’t,” I say, standing in front of her. “Just give me this chance.”

“If I give you this one chance,” she says, “promise me that after this, you will leave me alone.”

There is no way in fuck I can promise that or would, but I know that if I don’t, she won’t come with me, so I lie to her for the first time ever. “I promise.”

“I need to change. I’ll meet you in the front,” she says. I nod my head and watch as she picks up her boots and goes inside the house.

I’m about to walk to the front of the house when I see Casey walking toward me with a white coffee cup in his hand. His eyes narrow on me. “What are you doing here?” he asks me when he gets close enough. “She walked home by herself.”

“She was never by herself,” I say and look at the ground. “I was following her. I was just giving her space.”

“Not enough space if you’re here again,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Well, if I get my way, you’ll be seeing my face daily,” I say, and I don’t wait for him to answer. Instead, I walk to the front and wait for her beside my truck. When the door opens and she steps out, my breath hitches like every other time. She’s wearing white shorts this time with a beige top showing off her stomach, and she’s carrying a thermos cup in each hand. Her hair blows softly in the wind. I open the door for her, and she hands me a coffee.

“My mother sent this for you,” she says and climbs in the truck. I wait for her to sit before I close the door, then I walk to my side of the truck. Looking up at the front door where Charlotte stands, I just nod at her. I get in the car and hear her take a deep inhale. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Let’s,” I say, and I make my way to my house. She has never been to my house, and I’m hoping that she doesn’t refuse to come in, but with the secret I have to tell her, there is no way I could do it out in the open. As much as I love her, I still have to protect my son, and having the secret out into the world will put him in more danger than I care to think about.

I pull up to my house and press the button for the garage and drive in. “I thought we were going to do this at the creek,” she says softly beside me.

“What I need to tell you can’t be said there,” I say, and she looks down at the cup in her hand.

“Is this your house?” she asks me and then looks at me.

“Yes,” I say. “Give me fifteen minutes, and if you still want to leave, I’ll take you home.”

She debates a bit and then opens the door. I get out with her and wait for her at the stairs that lead to the mud room. I open the door for her and wait for her to step in, and she doesn’t move from the entryway.

“This way,” I say and lead her from the mud room through the white kitchen toward the family room. It’s the room where we spend all our time. Her eyes roam around the room toward the back wall that holds the fireplace and the television on top of it, but her eyes pause on the framed pictures on