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We’re not friends. She slept with Jeremy when I was pregnant with Jonah, after all. But I will always side with a woman who is in danger, even when she’s the homewrecker who broke us up.
She did me a favor. I realize that now—but she doesn’t deserve any of this. No one does.
She starts crying again, but she nods as we stop outside the hallway toward the kids’ rooms. I can hear one of the little girls crying in her room, but I’m not sure which bedroom it’s coming from. “I’m not in any danger. He’ll sleep it off and everything will be back to normal tomorrow.”
“Does this happen often?” I ask.
She shrugs and wipes away a tear without answering.
“If you need somewhere to go…” I trail off and let that hang between us. I can’t exactly invite her to Sam’s place. I’m already in the guest room, and the boys are sharing a room.
But if we have to make room for her safety, we will.
“It’s fine. I appreciate that, but me and the girls…we’re okay.”
I nod. “If you’re sure.”
She presses her lips together, and she glances toward the opposite side of the house. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
“Okay.” I walk up to Jonah’s door and knock softly. “Jonah? It’s me.”
The door opens, and he rushes into my waist, wrapping his arms around me. I lean down to hold him against me, and that heaviness in my chest only seems to worsen as he starts to cry.
“I’m going to take him home now,” I tell Alyssa.
She nods. “I’m so sorry, Jonah.” She ruffles his hair a little. “You deserve better.”
“Thanks, Lyss,” he says, and he gives her a quick hug before I usher him toward the front door.
“Call me if you need anything,” I tell Alyssa, and she mouths a thank you before she closes the door behind us and presumably heads toward the bedroom with her two crying girls.
Jonah heaves out a heavy sigh once he’s buckled into Cade’s booster in the back. “Why do you have Sam’s car?” he asks.
“Oh, uh…” I scramble to come up with a reason, and I feel terrible for lying to him. He’s been through enough tonight. He deserves an honest answer, but I can’t exactly tell him I’m sleeping with Lincoln Nash, the son of his grandfather’s mortal enemy. “It’s a long story.” I leave it at that. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired.”
“Well tomorrow’s Sunday, and you can sleep in as late as you want. We’ll go to Grammy and Pop-Pop’s for pancakes and bacon whenever you get up. Sound good?” I make a mental note to ask my parents if we can come over for breakfast, but they make bacon every Sunday, and it’s a standing invitation.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice subdued, and my heart breaks that his father is the one who did this to him.
As soon as I get home, I’m emailing my lawyer so I can figure out how to change this custody agreement. I hate that Jeremy has this effect on my child, and if I can stop it from happening again, I will.
He’s exhausted by the time we get home, and the house is quiet. Sam’s asleep, and I assume she figured I wouldn’t be coming home tonight.
I usher him into the house and tuck him into bed. I pepper his cheeks with a million kisses before I head toward the kitchen and leave a note for Sam on the counter so she isn’t scared when she wakes up to find us both here.
And then I head toward my bedroom, ready to slip out of my clothes and into my pajamas so I can put this awful night in the past.
But when I flick on my light, I see the outline of a figure lying on my bed. I jump about a thousand feet into the air, my heart racing all the way up to my throat, and I’m about to scream when he waves at me and my brain catches up to the fear.
“Oh my God, you scared the shit out of me!” I whisper-yell.
Lincoln chuckles a bit. “I’m sorry. I know it’s been a tough night on you, and I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“But your car isn’t here—”
He shakes his head. “I took a Lyft over. What happened?”
