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“Ten weeks.”
“And before that?”
“Slightly over a month.”
“If the two of you marry and live platonically until the case is settled, Casey never has to know about the marriage, or that you’re his father. After permanent custody is established, you’re free to go—and return—as you please. Jillian has the responsibility for raising him, but you visit when you’re able … as a family friend. No expectations, no pressure. Casey won’t view you as a parental figure, but you can at least see your little boy grow up. And if the unthinkable happens, and for some reason Jillian is unable to raise him, his future will be inyourhands.You’llmake the decision, not Richard and Brooke, not the court system.”
The room tilted. Something happening to Jillian? The possibility horrified him—andnotonly because of what it would do to Casey—or Zane’s responsibilities toward him.
Dallas nodded. “It makes sense, Wolfe. And you know if you needanything, we’re a phone call away, day or night.”
Jillian’s small, warm, reassuring hand settled over Zane’s on the chair arm. “Casey has always thought of my dad as his grandpa, and my brothers as his uncles. That never sat very well with Richard, either. He considers us ‘gauche blue collar.’ Between assignments, my brothers are in and out of Casey’s life just like Mia mentioned. Casey has a blast with them when they’re in town. He understands that because of their duties, his uncles aren’t always around, and it doesn’t bother him. And my dad provides a consistent positive male influence for him.” Excitement rose in her voice. “This could work!”
Tangled in a whirlwind of doubt, Zane inhaled. Only the worst kind of asshole would run out on his own offspring just when the kid needed him the most. But what would the consequences be for Casey if Zane agreed to become part of his life—no matter how minimal? Was it possible to exertno influence at allon his son? God forbid Casey should end up like Brent.
Or Trevor.
He swallowed the strangling lump in his throat, his skin breaking into an icy sweat. As Mia’s face wavered in and out of focus, he closed his eyes. “I can’t—”
Jillian squeezed his hand. “Don’t decide right now. Think it through first.”
“Excellent advice. But don’t take too long,” Mia warned. “Time is a luxury we don’t have.”
* * *
Jillian held her tongue inside the car, again subtly watching Zane as he drove back toward the coast. Growing up in a household full of her brothers and their friends had taught her men processed things entirely differently from women.
She had to give him the space he needed, and he’d talk when he was ready.
After dozens of tense, thrumming miles, the city faded behind them and the bustling urban view out her window transformed into lush green farmland sheltered between patches of thick forest.
Zane slammed his fist on the steering wheel, making her jump. “I want to help Casey, but I can’t marry—Dammit,I don’t want to hurt either of you.”
“What makes you think you would?”
“Not purposefully.” Pain twisted his sculpted profile. “But I don’t know any other way.”
Her belly clenched as he confirmed what she’d already begun to suspect. “I took child psychology classes in school, and my job at the center has familiarized me with the warning signs and lasting effects of childhood trauma,” she said, careful to maintain a matter-of-fact tone. “When you had the flu, your feverish conversation gave away more than you realized.” She reached over and stroked his arm. “I know you were an abused child.”
He jerked as if her touch burned him, and a fist squeezed her heart. Taking two steps forward, then recoiling a giant step backward in fear was a typical pattern for trauma survivors. Zane was as skittish and defensive as Aragorn had been when she’d rescued him from death row at the county shelter. Zane, too, needed patience and understanding. Needed to learn he could trust her.
His anguished glance flicked to each of the mirrors, returned to straight ahead. “Then you get why I can’t become involved in Casey’s life.”
“No, Idon’tget it. For someone who’s inexperienced with children, you do very well with Casey.” If she had her way, he’d be well-acquainted with his son by the time the custody battle was settled. Maybe he’d even want visitation. Or decide to parent his child himself.
Imagining her life without Casey ripped her up inside. But she wanted the best for him, and if that meant he lived with his father …
Her lungs constricted and she inhaled a calming breath. No use worrying about that now. She’d deal with the issue when and if it came up. “You just need to become more familiar with your son and gain confidence in your abilities.”
“It’s not only my own childhood,” he gritted. “I’ve seen nightmare scenarios in this job that would send you screaming. In the real world, mothers check out. Fathers betray their families. Children die.”
“Zane, I’ve seen plenty of horrors in my job, too. But I’ve also seen a whole lot of wonderful. Thousands of people who’ve survived horrendous childhoods mature into caring, responsible parents. You can take classes, get counseling—”
He snorted as his gaze again searched the mirrors and fixed back on the road. “Slapping a caramel coating on a bruised apple doesn’t disguise the fact that inside, the fruit’s rotten.”
“And sometimes, Champ, ‘I can’t’ simply means, ‘I choose not to try.’”
His jaw set in an obstinate masculine angle she’d seen countless times on his son—and despite her distress, she couldn’t stop a wistful smile. Casey always eventually came around to see reason.
