Chapter 29: Daddy’s Dirty Little Secret: Chapter 29

The helicopter lifted off with a slow, shaking rumble that settled into something steadier as we cleared the rooftops. I kept my eyes on the skyline for the first few minutes, pretending I needed the view, but I was watching them through their reflection in the window as the lights of the city passed beneath us.

Amelia was curled against her father’s side. He held her close, one hand on her shoulder, the other bracing her thigh. She hadn’t looked at me since we boarded. I wasn’t sure she would.

No one said a word.

The cabin wasn’t large. The soundproofing helped, but the engine was still loud enough to make conversation feel like a chore. Maybe that was for the best.

Laurence hadn’t even looked in my direction since he helped her into the seat. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on some point outside the window. He was doing what I couldn’t—keeping it together, acting like he had a right to hold her like that after what he’d put her through. And the worst part? He probably did.

I sat across from them, hands folded, staring at nothing.

I had her back. That was the only part of this I could hold onto. Everything else had gone sideways.

She’d said it would be simple. She told me she was on the pill. She told me it wasn’t serious. No strings. No mess. I believed her. I let myself believe that I could have her without the fallout. And then I made the one mistake I swore I wouldn’t make—I got attached.

Now she was here, sitting two feet away and holding someone else’s arm like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. And I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. Relief? Anger? Grief?

I couldn’t even look at her without wondering what else I didn’t know.

She was pregnant. That part wasn’t a question anymore. And I didn’t have it in me to doubt that it was mine. But knowing it and being ready for it weren’t the same thing. I kept thinking about everything Laurence had done to get them into this mess. Every decision he made, every shortcut that turned into a trap. And I asked myself if I would’ve done the same. If I already had.

Could I protect her? Could I protect a child? Could I keep myself from turning into the same kind of reckless idiot, pretending I had control when I didn’t?

My hands wouldn’t stay still. I folded and unfolded my fingers, shifting my grip until I had to look away from them entirely.

I didn’t want to fail her. But I knew I would. I’d seen what it looked like to be left behind. My mother walked out like it was nothing. Quiet, calm, final. She didn’t scream. She didn’t fight. She just decided. One moment she was there, and the next she was gone.

What if Amelia left too?

What if I gave her everything, and she still walked away?

I stared at her reflection in the window, her face half lit by the cockpit lights. She was pale, worn thin by whatever had happened in that house. She didn’t look like someone who’d meet me in my office and pour her heart into satisfying me. And she didn’t look like a woman who wanted to run. But neither did my mother, right up until the moment she did.

The rot doesn’t show at first. It starts slow.

And now I was sitting here, wondering if I’d already lost something before I ever got to keep it.

The helicopter touched down just after eleven. Amelia moved like her legs didn’t want to hold her, leaning into her father as they stepped onto the landing pad. She didn’t look at me, not once. Laurence kept one hand on her back like she might disappear if he let go.

I drove them to his place. No one said anything.

When we pulled up to the curb, Amelia reached for the handle, but I stopped her with a look. “Stay in the car,” I said, and she listened.

Laurence got out and stood there, waiting like he expected something else. I stepped out after him and followed him halfway to the door before he turned.

He didn’t apologize at first. He didn’t explain, and I didn’t expect him to. There was nothing left to say that wouldn’t make things worse. He’d gambled with her safety, with her life, and she was the one who paid for it. I hadn’t forgotten that. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to.

Laurence shifted like he might say something. “I didn’t want⁠—”

“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t pretend this wasn’t your fault.” He flinched, but I didn’t stop. “You let them take her without a clue what would happen. And you didn’t fix it. I did. Half a million. My money. My name. You stood there and let her suffer while I bled to clean it up.” I could’ve punched him, but I restrained myself for Amelia’s sake.

He opened his mouth again, but I took a step forward. “If you ever put her in danger again, you’ll wish Hayes got to you first.”

Then I turned, walked back to the car, climbed in, and slammed the door shut.

The drive to her place felt longer than it was. I kept both hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead, chewing on everything I didn’t say to Laurence. I didn’t look at her. I didn’t ask how she was doing. I didn’t ask if she wanted music or if the heat was too high. I didn’t trust myself to open my mouth. If I said one thing, I’d say too much.

She stayed quiet beside me, folded in on herself. Her knees were drawn up slightly, her hands tangled in the hem of her sweater. Every so often she sniffed, soft and quick, like she was trying not to be heard.

The city blurred past. Lights turned gold against the windshield and flicked off the sides of parked cars. I hit every green light and still felt like we were crawling. When we finally pulled into her lot, I killed the engine and stepped out first, circling the car before she had time to unbuckle. She didn’t argue when I offered my hand. She just took it.

We walked to her door in silence.

She fumbled with the keys, her hands shaking. When the lock clicked and the door swung open, she stepped inside first. I followed her in, and the second it closed behind us, she turned.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and the words hit fast, like she’d been holding them back the entire drive. “I’m sorry about my dad, and for disappearing, and for quitting like that. I didn’t know how to explain it. I didn’t know how to face you, especially not after⁠—”

She stopped and pressed her hand to her chest like she needed to hold herself together. Her eyes were red, lashes wet, but she wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. The room around us was dim. A lamp glowed in the corner, silhouetting her body.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” she said. “I didn’t even know I was⁠—”

I stepped forward before she could choke on the words. “Is it true?” I asked. “What Hayes told your father. About the baby.”

She bobbed her shoulder and then dropped her head. “It’s true.”

I stared at her, heart beating too fast again. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t know at first. I thought I was just off because I was sick. I had bronchitis. The doctor put me on antibiotics, and I didn’t think—I was on the pill. I swear I was. I never would’ve done that to you on purpose.” Her voice broke. “I love you.”

I froze.

I hadn’t expected that at all. It landed harder than everything else I’d heard in the past few days.

I didn’t say anything right away. She just stood there after it came out—I love you—like it was supposed to fix something. I moved past her, too restless to stay still, and rubbed my hand along the back of my neck.

“You should’ve told me the second you knew,” I said.

She turned, still near the door. “I was going to.”

“But you didn’t.” My voice was sharper than I meant it to be, but I didn’t take it back.

She stepped toward me. “I didn’t want to screw things up.”

I gave a short laugh, no humor in it. “Too late for that.”

Her jaw tightened. “I didn’t choose this.”

“No, but you handled it without me. And now I’m just supposed to catch up, like the last two weeks didn’t happen?”

“I didn’t know what to say. I was scared.”

“Well, congratulations,” I said. “Now we’re both there.”

She took another step, not backing down. “You think this was easy for me? I was locked in a house with strangers, thinking I might die, knowing you didn’t even know I was gone. You think that’s something I planned?”

I looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the weight of it all. The fear. The guilt. But I was still holding too much anger to drop it.

“Then why hide it?” I asked. “Why not give me a damn chance?”

Her voice dropped, not weaker, just tired. “Because you told me this wasn’t serious. You said no strings. I thought if I told you, it’d be over.”

I didn’t have a response to that. I turned and sat on the edge of her coffee table, bracing my elbows on my knees, head down. My skin felt too tight, like I couldn’t get enough air. I heard her shift her weight, then the soft scrape of a chair on the floor. When I looked up, she was sitting in front of me, close, watching my face.

“I didn’t do this on purpose,” she said. “I had bronchitis. The antibiotics must’ve⁠—”

“Amelia.” I cut her off, quiet but firm. “This isn’t about blame.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s the part where I’m supposed to be ready for something I don’t even know how to be.”

She searched my face, then reached for my hand. I let her take it.

“You think I know how to do this?” she said. “You think I’m not scared too?”

I didn’t answer, but I didn’t pull away.

She moved closer, close enough that I could feel the heat of her knees against mine. “I know what this looks like. I know it wasn’t what you wanted. But I love you. And I’m not going to disappear.”

I shook my head, not to argue but to clear the static. “You say that now.”

“I mean it.”

Her hand tightened around mine, her other palm sliding up to my jaw, grounding me. I didn’t want to let any of it in. But I was already too far in.

“You think I’ll walk away like your mom did,” she said.

I swallowed hard. “She didn’t just leave. She erased herself. One day she was there, and the next, nothing. No note. No goodbye. Just quiet. My dad—he didn’t recover. He shut down. That’s who raised me.”

“I’m not her,” she said.

“I know.”

“I won’t do that to you.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. She leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t soft or hesitant—it was steady, sure. I grabbed her waist and pulled her to me without thinking, without planning, without trying to protect myself from it.

She tasted like mint and salt, familiar and something else entirely. Her body fit against mine like it was made for me. I couldn’t make sense of anything as her teeth grazed over my lower lip, her hands pushing my shirt upward. I was too caught up in the feeling of her against me—the way her body fit to mine, like she’d always been there. I couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t feel this way.

I pulled her onto my lap, heard the coffee table creak, and let her straddle me. Amelia’s fingers moved to the button of my pants, and I stopped her. “Wait.”

Her eyes darkened with want, but she didn’t move. She pulled her hands away, letting them rest on my thighs. “I can stop,” she said, though it was clear she didn’t want to.

I shook my head. “I don’t want our first time to be like this.”

Her brows drew together. “Our first?”

“Yeah,” I said, meeting her eyes squarely. “Our first.”

She stared at me, searching for something I couldn’t name. I wasn’t even sure if I knew what it was myself. Fear? Security? The knowledge that whatever happened next, we’d do it together? What I did know was that I wanted her more than I ever had. Wanted to press her against the wall and feel her and know that she was really here.

“I don’t understand …” she said, her eyes searching me.

“As a couple,” I said softly, bringing her knuckles to my lips and kissing them.

Amelia smiled and curled her fingers around my hand, pulling me as we stood up. “Come on.”

I let her pull me down the hall, too lost in the way her bottom swayed ahead of me to come up with any more objections. Everything inside me protested in fear, but the tiniest little voice in my heart urged me forward. I knew this was the right path. I just prayed it didn’t hurt like hell later on.