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She shook her head, eyes brimming with tears. ‘No, I’m not okay. I can’t stop thinking about it and I need to talk to you.’
Thinking about what? He tried to stay calm but the thunder in his chest kept rumbling. ‘Sure. Of course. Here?’
‘No. Somewhere warm.’ She looked down at his stick and her eyes widened. ‘Are you okay to walk? What happened?’
‘I’m fine.’ He felt exposed and caught off guard as he flicked the stick into thirds and shoved it in his bag. Now she’d see him as something less too. ‘There’s a bar across the way. Or the café in the hospital?’
‘Whatever’s nearer. I can’t be long; I had to get a friend to watch over Lachie while I came here.’
He walked back up the ramp and inside the hospital, his heart now thundering almost out of his chest. ‘Coffee?’ Banal but necessary. Anything to fill the void in the conversation.
She almost flinched at his question. ‘No. Thanks. Just water.’
After a few minutes they were facing each other in an otherwise empty café. Outside, the street lights cast an eerie glow. Inside, the strip lights were too bright, too clinical. He wrapped his hands around his mug of steaming coffee, bracing himself for what he’d already worked out. At least he thought he had. It was hardly rocket science. Just a bit of sex and some maths.
Only it hadn’t been just sex; it had been mind-blowing. Intimate. The most intense, the most sensual he’d ever had, and he would have called her if he’d ever stopped feeling sorry for himself. ‘Okay, Sophie, I’m guessing this is more than just a telling-off for not calling you?’
She nodded. ‘I wish it were that simple. Believe me, I can most definitely deal with rejection and I would have chalked you up to experience and forgotten all about it.’
He guessed that was supposed to hurt him. Surprisingly, it did, a little. ‘But...?’
‘That night... I thought... I thought you were okay, you know? I thought we might, well, at least see each other again. You certainly seemed keen. But you just went cold. Was I just a one-night stand to you? Was that it? Because that’s not what you said at the time. That’s not how it felt. But then, I was pretty cut up about my grandmother’s death, so I was easy prey to someone like you.’
Ouch.Someone like you. He didn’t know exactly what she meant by that but he could see how it would have looked to her: single guy picks up grieving beautiful woman. Takes advantage. Doesn’t call. ‘It wasn’t like that. I liked you. It was...’ Special. Different.
‘What was it, Finn? To you?’ She twisted her hands together and took a deep breath. Her nostrils flared and her jaw tightened and the deep breathing didn’t seem to be helping. She looked up at him and glared. ‘Whatever. Forget it. It doesn’t matter now; what you felt doesn’t matter. Except... Actually, you know what? I’m so angry at you because everything could have been a damned sight easier if you’d just picked up the phone.’
‘I lost it. Down a mountain.’ Along with his self-esteem, his stupid decision-making and, for a long time, his positivity. Thankfully that was clawing its way back.
He wasn’t going to tell her that he’d left his phone down there on purpose, that he’d made sure all his contacts were erased. That the ones in the Cloud were too. That he’d drawn a line between before the accident and after and given his brother instructions to hide as much information about Finn as he could from everyone.
Her eyebrows rose as if to say lame excuse. ‘You know, I’ve thought about what I was going to say to you, so many times. I’ve rehearsed it over and over and now I’m here I don’t actually know what to say.’
She was hurting and he didn’t think it was from rejection; it was from those hard years of being pregnant and a single mother. He took a breath and jumped. ‘Lachie’s my son. Right?’
He prayed she was going to say Wrong. But why the heck else was she here? She wouldn’t come this far just to berate him for not following up on a date almost two and a half years ago.
She gasped. ‘I tried to find you. So hard you wouldn’t believe. I always wanted you to know. It’s your right, and his. But now...’ Her eyes darkened. ‘I don’t know what it’s going to mean to you—what he’s going to mean to you—so I don’t want you to know because you might go cold again and he doesn’t deserve that. He deserves a father who wants to know him, who’s interested and in it for the long haul and I’m not sure you’re that guy.’
Wow.
She continued, ‘But you have to know, everyone says so, and I feel like I have to tell you, otherwise it’s on my conscience. So, yes, my gorgeous little Lachlan Spencer Harding, that beautiful, funny, clever handful, is your son.’
Finn closed his eyes and tried to control the emotions, ones he wasn’t prepared for, tumbling through him. He didn’t want to be a father. He didn’t want to have the responsibility of it all. He wasn’t ready. Would he ever be ready? He had one leg, damn it. He could barely walk. He couldn’t turn round quickly and catch a falling child. He couldn’t teach him how to kick a ball or run around in the park like he’d dreamed his own dad would do, but never did. He couldn’t protect himself from hurt, never mind an eighteen-month-old.
He wished they’d never had that night. He wished he’d kept in touch with her. He wished he hadn’t fallen hundreds of feet down a mountain in a blizzard and made himself an invalid when now...now he needed two legs more than ever in his whole life.
He nodded, feeling the same kind of sensation he’d had that wintry night when he’d stepped into thin air...as if he was falling into a nightmare. And yet, cushioning the landing, was a bright shining kernel of something good. He had a son.
Whoa.
A giggling, wriggling superhero with two club feet who most definitely deserved the very best of fathers.
He’d had a son for one and a half years. He’d missed so much already.
And he knew all about being that kid with no dad. About the dreams of him turning up one day and being like some sort of king. About watching the other kids get to play, work, laugh with their fathers and wonder what you’d done that was so bad yours didn’t want to know you. He knew how that felt and he wasn’t going to let his son go through that.
He opened his eyes and looked at Sophie, who was watching him with a hand pressed to her mouth and a frown on her forehead. God knew what she’d been through. He imagined the names she’d called him. Imagined the sleepless nights, the endless worry. Then the righteous anger at his silence. It was time to man up. ‘I’m so sorry.’
* * *
‘Sorry?’ Sophie was lost for words. She’d expected him to deny his child, demand a paternity test or be angry that she’d come here and told him. She hadn’t expected this. Was it a trick?
‘Yeah. I blew it. I messed up. I should have called but...’ He ran a hand across his dark hair and shrugged. ‘Circumstances meant I wasn’t in a position to call for a while. Then I just thought... Well, to be honest, I didn’t think at all.’
‘Clearly. You lost your phone down a mountain, but you can retrieve information from backup online; everyone knows that.’ She had nowhere to focus the anger she’d stored up for so long and he was stripping it away from her with one word. Sorry. It seemed as if he really was, but it wasn’t enough. ‘There are lots of ways to find information if you want it badly enough.’ Although wanting hadn’t helped her.
‘I couldn’t. I just couldn’t, okay? I didn’t know you needed me. And, if I remember rightly, the name you’d tapped into the phone was Sexy Sophie so I couldn’t have looked for you anyway. We didn’t do the surname thing.’
‘Yes, well, I presumed we’d get to that on the second date.’
He’d said she was beautiful, called her sexy as hell, and she’d laughed and told him he was clearly drunk. But he hadn’t been and neither had she. He’d been funny and caring and enigmatic. He’d stroked her back when she’d cried about her grandmother. He’d listened when she’d told him about the hole in her life without her and he’d told her about how cut up he’d been over his mother’s death, how he felt responsible, how much he understood Sophie’s grief. They’d been honest and open. Which was why she’d been so confused when he hadn’t called.
He leaned forward and caught her gaze. ‘Sophie, I didn’t intend for this to happen. I was going to call. I don’t usually—’
‘Sleep with someone after just meeting them? Me neither. Ever.’ She hadn’t had so much as a first date with a guy for over two years. ‘You were my first and only. Didn’t work out like I imagined.’
‘And now I have a son.’ He looked as if he was struggling to keep a lid on his emotions. He pressed his lips together and they sat in silence for a few moments, both absorbing this life-changing information. He looked bereft and yet animated at the same time. His fingers rubbed his temple, pushed into thick dark hair that was so much like his son’s, and those eyes—the exact same blue. Lachie had inherited her nose and mouth, but there was so much of him that belonged to his father. Finn shook his head. ‘So what do I do?’
‘About...?’
‘About Lachie. What do you want? What does he want?’
Where to start? Two parents who were available and around and attentive, unlike the childhood she’d had. ‘Lachie’s pretty easy to please. He’s a toddler; he wants attention, ice cream and more of those stickers you gave him yesterday. Tomorrow he’ll want something else.’
‘He likes them? Are they working?’ Finn smiled and his face was transformed, and she was spun right back to yesterday when he’d made Lachie laugh. Right back to that night when he’d done so much more than make her laugh. There was something about him that still intrigued her, attracted her, if she was honest. He was still insanely good-looking and, with the cocky edges rubbed off, even charming.
But she couldn’t trust him, not with her heart or her son’s. She needed to tread carefully. ‘He’s too young for star charts really, you know. It’s probably just novelty value that made him sit still last night.’
‘Oh. It works for other kids.’ Finn looked as if he’d been stung. ‘But you’re probably right. What do I know? I only met him yesterday; I have no idea what would work for him.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it came out.’
‘You know him, I don’t. I have a lot to learn. I don’t know where to start.’
He really did look lost and she felt fleetingly sorry for him. He had a lot to take on board. Her son—their son—was a mini hurricane and Finn had no idea about the chaos a child could cause to his life. That was why she was worried about getting him involved with Lachie at all. How could she risk her son’s happiness by introducing him to a potentially absent father? Finn hadn’t exactly showed ‘stickability’ or reliability, but he had a right to get to know his boy. She was struggling here between her conscience and her son’s needs.
‘You learn as you go. I didn’t know everything the minute he popped out. It was a huge learning curve that doesn’t look like it’s going to flatten out any time soon.’
He shook his head. ‘So how do you see this working? I have to confess I’m struggling here. Only, if I have a son I will do my best by him. No hesitation.’
‘I need to know you’re committed to him. That you’re not going to randomly bounce in and out of his life and hurt him.’
Shock rippled through his gaze. ‘You’ve got a pretty poor opinion of me. I know we don’t know each other very well, but you need to know I wouldn’t do that.’
They didn’t know each other at all, really. They’d made a baby but all she knew was that he was beautiful and completely unreliable. ‘I’m sure you believe you’ll be the best of fathers but I’m not willing to take a risk on you spending time with Lachie if you’re going to disappear when something else comes along.’
His eyes darkened to navy as anger started to rise again. ‘I have a right to get to know him. I’m sure there’s a law or something.’
That was the last thing she needed: some kind of injunction to add to being a working single mum and surviving each day. It was in all their interests to work this through smoothly. ‘I know. I know you have. But let’s just do it slowly.’ Then she could assess his impact on Lachie’s life and flight risk. ‘Baby steps.’
Finn glanced down at his leg and his whole body tensed as if he’d just remembered something. He looked back at her with a bleakness that tugged at her heart and raised so many more questions. ‘I don’t know if I’m even capable of that.’
CHAPTER THREE (#u16bdb405-09c5-529d-9a23-a82fef0e6688)
‘WHAT HAPPENED?’ As Sophie followed the line of his gaze down to his leg, she lost the straightened back and tight jaw and softened into everything he remembered from that long-ago night: concerned, gentle, compassionate. Colour had come back into her cheeks and her eyes were warmer now as she looked back at him. Her head tilted to one side and she smiled. Just enough to make his gut tighten.
It made him want to tell her everything. But he stuck to the medical details; she’d be able to find them easily enough if she looked him up on the health board database. Unethical, but possible, if she felt the need. ‘It wasn’t just the phone that fell down the mountain. I went with it.’
‘Wow. That must have been scary. But you’re alive, that’s something. Thank goodness.’ She looked at his leg again, then at the rest of him and it felt strange to be scrutinised by a woman who’d seen him at his physical best. ‘How badly were you hurt?’
He wondered what she was expecting him to answer when he numbered off his injuries. ‘A broken pelvis. Cracked spine. Dislocated shoulder. Displaced collarbone. Head injury. Frostbite. Hypothermia...’ He waited for all that to sink in, watched her eyes widen. He looked for pity, thought he might have seen it mixed in with her shock. ‘And my pièce de résistance...lower left leg amputation.’
‘Oh,’ she gasped. He searched for revulsion now but didn’t see that. ‘I’m so sorry—that must have been hard to get over.’
Was an understatement. ‘I’m still on that upward climb.’ He armoured himself against the inevitable. ‘So this is where you leave, right? After all, a useless father is worse than none at all.’
She frowned, taken aback. ‘Are you for real? Is that what you think? I’ve had a useless, absent father myself, which is why I don’t want that for my son, and I work with enough broken families to see how much damage half-hearted and selfish parents can wreak on a child’s life. I just want him to have a dad, Finn. One leg or two, I don’t think he’d care so long as he was around on a regular basis.’
But Finn cared, and because of that he was having second thoughts about getting involved at all. What kind of pride would shine in his son’s eyes when his dad lost the fathers’ race at sports day or needed a chair to watch him play football because standing too long hurt too damned much? None.
He felt a tight fist of pain in his gut. And how could he protect his son from hurt? He didn’t exactly have a good track record on that front. If he’d been a better person, been more reliable and less self-focused, his mother might still be alive and he might have had two legs instead of one.
No. Much better that he took some steps back and didn’t get involved. ‘Maybe it would be better if I stayed out of the picture. Stay in touch, obviously. I’m invested here, and I’ll pay what’s necessary and more. I imagine I owe a lot in child support.’
Those caramel eyes burnt hot. ‘What? You think this is about money? You think I want anything from you? I’ve managed by myself and can keep on doing that if you don’t care enough to see him.’
He thought about the little kid he’d met yesterday, the grumpiness that he’d clearly inherited from his dad. The sunny smile he’d got from his mum. Something fierce bloomed in Finn’s chest. ‘I care enough to not see him. I don’t want him to be ashamed. That’s a lot to live with for a child.’
‘For God’s sake, Finn, listen to yourself. He needs love. He needs a dad in his life, someone who is emotionally available, but if you’re not up to it we’ll be just fine without you.’ Sophie scraped her chair back and stood. She tugged a piece of paper out of her bag and thrust it at him. ‘I’ve written some details down for you, just in case you lose your phone again. It’s all there: date of birth, weight at birth, milestones, medical issues. Likes, dislikes. I thought you might want to know. And he drew you a picture on the back.’
He had his first picture. From his son. Holy hell. That gave him a jolt of pride right in the centre of his chest.
Sophie was shaking her head, her ponytail swinging, eyes blazing. So utterly at odds with the woman he’d shared the night with. This was a lioness protecting her young. She was vibrant, strong and determined. This was what parenting did to you and even though he’d only known about his child for a matter of minutes he felt the stirrings of that inside him. ‘He drew me a picture?’
‘Don’t worry; I just said it was for the nice man at the clinic. I didn’t mention your real connection, just in case—’
‘In case I didn’t want to know?’ Shame flooded through him; of course he wanted to know. How could he not? How could he deny the boy this right? Deny himself the dreams he’d had growing up? He picked up the paper, which had some of the superhero stickers on it and brown and yellow crayon squiggles. His heart contracted. ‘I won’t lose it, I promise. Thank you. Please sit down; let’s talk this through.’
Her eyebrows rose. ‘No. You need time to think and I have to go; it’s bedtime and I don’t want to wear out my friend’s generosity.’
‘I imagine things have been difficult for you. To get time for yourself.’
She stiffened. ‘I manage.’
He didn’t want her to go and told himself it was because he needed to sort all this out today. ‘We could both go to your house now and talk, work out a plan.’
She took a step back, palms raised. ‘Whoa. No way. A minute ago you wanted to stay away, now you want to see him this minute. Like I said, Finn, we need baby steps and we need to draw up some rules. Have a think about it all and email your expectations through to me. I’ll do the same. Then we can talk further. Then, and only then, can you meet him for a supervised visit.’
‘Supervised visits? You’ve pulled out the big words for this.’ He knew why. He hadn’t exactly proven himself, not just once but repeatedly. He’d wavered from promising he’d be the best father in the world to shying away from the realities of his missing leg and his limitations. But proper unconditional love overrode those things.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know you and I’m damned sure I won’t let you hurt my child. I’m just protecting us all.’
If she was intending to rile him it was working. She was clearly very protective of Lachie, and he admired that, admired how she’d brought up a good kid on her own. But her lack of faith in him stung.
‘Our child, Sophie. I’m his father; I won’t hurt him.’
She shook her head and he could tell she was not going to give in easily. ‘You provided some DNA, Finn. Let’s just see how much of a father you can be.’
* * *
‘Hi, I’m back! Thanks so much for having him for me.’ Sophie bundled through the door of her late grandmother’s house and found her friend Hannah sitting on the sofa in front of a blazing coal fire, playing with Lachie and a digital tablet. Her heart squeezed as he looked up and grinned. Her boy. Just hers for a few precious months, really, and now she was having to share him... Was she doing the right thing by letting Finn in?
She didn’t really have a choice if she was going to be able to live with herself, one way or another. Time would tell.
She let all the anger and irritation and the surprising jolt of attraction go—the guy had been through a lot and yet he was still gorgeous, still capable of being serious and yet funny. Still hot enough to make her heart race and her palms itch to touch him. He was all the things she’d promised herself not to get involved with. She needed to be just a mother now. ‘How’s my boy been?’
‘Very good—eaten all his supper and had a nice play.’ Hannah wriggled out from Lachie’s grip, planted a kiss on his head and grabbed her coat and bag. ‘Bye-bye, Lachie! Be good for Mummy.’ She leaned close to Sophie and whispered, ‘I thought I’d leave the torture device to you. I’m not brave enough to tackle that. I want him to like me.’
‘The boots and bars? Hush now. They’re for his own good.’
‘I know. I just don’t like conflict.’ Hannah wandered towards the door and waited for Sophie to join her. There was a teasing light in her eyes and Sophie’s heart fell. Because, knowing Hannah, she wouldn’t be allowed to get on with the evening without an interrogation. ‘How was the dad?’
Gorgeous. Enigmatic. Inspiring. Probably useless.
‘Shocked, but I think he’d worked it out. So I’m glad I fronted up and told him.’
‘Does he want to be involved?’
Sophie put down her bag and went to stoke the fire, absentmindedly answering her friend. ‘With Lachie?’
‘Of course with Lachie.’ Hannah glanced over to the little boy on the sofa swiping pages and telling himself the story he knew off by heart, and then back to Sophie. ‘You didn’t think I meant involved with you...’ Her eyes grew. ‘You don’t want...do you? I mean...you did like him once. Enough to sleep with him, and that’s not like you at all.’
‘Hush! No. Of course I don’t want to be involved with him.’ She didn’t. She really didn’t. ‘I can’t trust him as far as I’d throw him. My heart’s not part of the deal, nor my body. I told him Lachie needed a father; I didn’t mention anything about a family.’ Which was ironic, really, given all she’d ever wanted was a proper family of her own. But she had that now. Her and her boy.
Hannah seemed to have other ideas. ‘Still eye candy though?’
‘Outwardly, yes, gorgeous. Inwardly, a little hung up. He had an accident and I think it’s shaken him up.’ But hell, losing a limb would have an effect on...everything. ‘You know it’s not about how good-looking he is; it’s about what he can bring for Lachie. I really wish you’d never got that eye candy information out of me.’
