Page 63 of This Wild Heart

Baby books that my own mother had put together. Pictures of my dad standing proudly in the hospital, the wrapped bundle in his arms, wearing a hat identical to the one Leo had on his head. Pictures of my brothers lying on the carpet with me when I could hardly lift my head. Ian’s haircut was stupid, a bowl cut that my mom probably thought was adorable, and when we looked through the pages at home, we’d all given him so much shit about it.

God, Sheila. I tried to imagine breaking this news to her too. The wife thing already had her freaking out. Another grandchild. I blew out a shaky breath at the thought. My family, as a collective unit, was going to lose their fucking minds.

Anya crouched down and picked up the album sitting open at the top of the pile.

Moving my gaze up to watch her process what I’d been sorting out for the last hour felt fucking impossible, but I did it all the same. Her mouth fell open gently at the first couple of pages, and her blue eyes widened imperceptibly when she flipped through a couple more.

“Just say it,” I said.

Her eyes met mine and held. “He looksexactlylike you.”

The tightening of my jaw felt like someone clamped a vise over my bones, tightening it more and more until I worried my teeth would crack.

Anya closed the book and set it on the dresser. She’d pulled on some of my clothes when she left the bedroom, and it was a testament to the breathtaking bomb dropped on my life that the memories of equally breathtaking sex with her couldn't even break through what was tangling my brain. There was no sleepy moment of waking up with her in my arms, no luxuriating in what had happened. No hands wandering. No unhurried kisses. No second round as the sun set. No third round before bed.

Or maybe that wouldn’t have happened anyway. I’d never really know.

Instead, it was this.

Just the sound of her yelling my name—fear and panic coloring her voice—startling me into wakefulness. I wanted to be thinking about sex. I wanted to be repeating the sex. Wanted to start working through a list of what we could do together in this time when she was mine, even if it wasn’t real.

I didn’t want to be doingthis, whatever the fuck this was.

It didn’t seem I had much choice, though, as I watched her come closer and sit next to me on the bed.

“I don’t know how to say this, and I don’t always have the gift of subtlety, so I’m just going to go with my gut right now.” She paused, her fingers wringing together slightly on her lap. “Your name is on his birth certificate. He is your twin, Parker. We can get a paternity test, but I think that boy is yours. And I know you think you can’t do this, but?—”

“You don’t know that he’s mine,” I said through gritted teeth. “She could be anyone. She could be a stalker, for fuck’s sake. If I were smart, I’d call the police right now.”

“And have them do what? We don’t know where she went. We don’t know what she’s driving. We have a name, sure, but that’s not much to go on. Not tonight.”

“Anya, Ican’thave a kid.”

Instead of staying on the bed, she shifted onto the floor in front of me, crouching so that I had no fucking choice but to look at her. “You are freaked out, and that’s fine,” she said firmly. Her hands hovered for a moment, but then she grasped mine in her own, and the tightness in that grip had something monstrous trembling under my ribs. “You want to call the police? I can’t stop you. But what if he’s your son, and you hand him off to social services? If you send him off without figuring this out, I promise you, it will haunt you for the rest of your life. Yourson, Parker,” she whispered. “He’s just a baby. He’s innocent and sweet and didn’t ask to be here. And that poor girl. Do you know how hard it must have been for her to come here? She is doing what she thinks is best, and that’syou.” Immediately, I shook my head, but her face was unyielding. “Yes, it is.”

I stood so fast that Anya had no choice but to drop my hands as I paced the room. “I don’t know how to have a kid. I don’twantone. And you think I don’t already have things haunting me?” I said fiercely. “I know what that feels like. What regret does to your insides.” I smacked my chest with an open palm. “It sits here like fucking acid, eating away at you. Eating away at the parts of you left behind. I’ve felt it every single day for the past two years, and I don’t think there’s anything left. I don’t even know who I am with what’s left behind, okay? You want to talk about pretending, Anya? I pretend every fucking day like I don’t feel like I’m dying inside because of what I did.”

My chest was heaving like I’d run a fucking marathon.

Her eyes were bright and glossy as she stood, but no tears fell.

I pointed at the kitchen. “That kid needs someone who isn’t empty inside, Anya. I don’t have it in me to love anyone else like that. Ican’t.” My voice cracked on the last word, a vow I’d made to myself all those nights I lay awake.

Anya licked her lips, rolling them together once they weren’t dry. Briefly, she pinched her eyes shut, and when she opened them, I fucking knew I wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

“Bullshit,” she whispered.

My head reared back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She set her hands on her hips. “I call bullshit. Being scared of something is entirely different from being incapable. You love your family. You love your teammates. And you are not empty inside, no matter what you say. If you were empty inside, you wouldn’t care what your family thinks or how worried they are about you. Youmarriedme just to make them feel better because you love them.”

I scoffed. “That’s different.”

“Bullshit,” she repeated.

“Careful,” I warned her.

“It sounds like everyone has been careful with you,” Anya said. The words were gentle but unyielding, and a mesmerizing, fierce sort of light blazed in her eyes. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. “No one in your life is punishing you the way you’re punishing yourself, and maybe you want them to.” My heart hammered in my ears as she took another step closer. “Maybe you wish they were angry and yelling, telling you how horrible and selfish you were when your dad was sick. Would that make you feel better?”

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