Page 5 of Crave

Dammit, he was right that something didn’t add up, but not about Joaquín being involved. “There is something we are missing.” I turned to the window and bit my bottom lip. Then, after a second of indecision, I knew what we had to do. “We just need to go ask him what he knows about Julián.”

Grant closed the distance between us and clutched my wrist. “Over my dead fucking body. And even if what you think is true, he won’t or can’t tell us. He’s about to go on trial for a murder he probably committed. Our son is missing. We have no idea who kidnapped him from that hospital, why they did it, or where he is. Until we figure that out, we aren’t telling Joaquín about him. Keep your goddamn mouth shut. Do you fucking understand me?”

He released his grip on me, but I stayed in his space, forcing him to look at me. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do and what to say! Even though Joaquín and I aren’t blood related, he’s still my fucking brother!”

Grant didn’t back down. I’d never seen him this pissed. He bared his teeth at me. “I’m not fucking playing with you anymore. You robbed me the chance of ever getting to know Elías when you had him. If I’d known you were pregnant, I would’ve never let you out of my fucking sight. If I’d been at the hospital, I’d have been right next to you, taking care of our son. You owe me this. Let me fucking handle it.”

I gulped hard. He was right . . . again. Even so, he was being a complete jackass.

“Julián is my son! I carried him for nine months, and I have spent every minute of every day for the last two years missing him. You only found out you had a son today. I have every fucking right in the world to find out what happened, so stop acting like this is all about you!”

His face was red, and his brows were furrowed. I exhaled, forcing myself to calm down. He was furious. I was furious. Yelling at each other wasn’t helping anything.

“No matter how much you hate me right now, we are in this together,” I said, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. “He’s our child. I would never have kept him away from you had I known the truth. I had intended to test his DNA, and if he was yours, I was going to immediately tell you, beg your forgiveness for leaving you, and pray you would take me back. They told me he died, Grant. How could I put that heartbreak on you? Tell me. How?”

He looked at me, maybe for the first time since I walked back into his life as Ksenya, and let my question hang heavy in the air between us. “Fine,” he finally relented, as his shoulders dropped, and he finally lowered his voice. “We can go see your brother. Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”

Well, today Mitch took me to Rafael’s where I got high, Mitch kissed me, Mitch drove me here.

I shook my head, a knot of guilt building in my stomach, but I couldn’t speak. It wasn’t relevant really—none of that had anything to do with finding our son.

“Promise me, Mia. Say the words.”

Before they had the chance to choke me, I spit the words out. “I promise.”

“Good. Listen, I’m going to ask Kyle to hire some former Team guys to trace Tiffany’s mother, her name is Lorraine. I just hope to God she hasn’t harmed him, but she seemed to love him. Clearly my judgment sucks. I fell in love with you.”

Just like that, all my guilt for holding back information fell away, and a spark of anger flickered.

“Real mature, Grant.”

He looked out the window. “Where’s your car?”

Fuck. “Oh, I took an Uber.”

He cocked his head and lifted a single eyebrow. “Why?”

I forced myself not to bite my lip. “I was so overwhelmed finding out that Julián was my son, I didn’t want to drive.” That seemed reasonable when I said it.

Grant shook his head and went upstairs while I stayed planted where I was. Numb. I sent a quick text to Mitch to tell him that I was okay and that he could head home. Then I deleted my texts to him.

After a few minutes, Grant came downstairs, holding a tiny kitten. She was orange and white and fluffy.

“The only thing I found in this place was this fucking cat.”

I grabbed her from his arms. She let out a tiny meow, and I stroked her until she purred. “Can we take her?”

“Of course. She’ll die here if we don’t. Plus, she was probably our son’s.”